Data from the Turkish Statistical Institute (TURKSTAT) regarding the most common names in Turkey and the most popular names for newborns indicates that nationalist names are replacing traditional-religious ones. While Kurdish names are often not recorded due to legal and practical obstacles, it remains impossible to access any information regarding Kurdish names within TURKSTAT’s data system.
Image: Niha+
TURKSTAT has released data on the most frequently used and newborn names in Turkey for 2025. According to the institute’s data, the most common names for men are Mehmet, Mustafa, Ahmet, and Ali, while for women, they are Fatma, Ayşe, Emine, and Hatice. The records show that these four names in each category have maintained their rankings since 2018.
Among newborns, Alparslan ranks first among the most preferred male names. A total of 7,509 newborn boys were given this name by their families. Göktuğ, Metehan, Yusuf, and Kerem share the top spots. For newborn girls, the most preferred names are Alya, Defne, Gökçe, Zeynep, and Asel. TURKSTAT’s website provides data dating back to 2018, with rankings provided for the top 30 in each category.
“Visibility” in Baby Girl Names (2025)
Alya
8,739
Defne
7,716
Gökçe
7,582
Zeynep
6,228
Phonetic Barriers in the Registry System
While modern names like Alya and Defne have climbed to the top for baby girls, names embedded in cultural memory such as Rozerîn, Bêrîvan, and Zîlan continue to be relegated to the “unknown” or “converted” categories in official statistics. This situation is a statistical reflection of a century-old language policy.
Based on this data, it is possible to state that since 2018, nationalist names such as Alparslan, Göktuğ, and Metehan have begun to be preferred over traditional-religious names like Ahmet, Mehmet, and Mustafa for boys. While names like Mehmet and Mustafa still rank at the top of the overall “most used” list in Turkey, we see that these names have been used significantly less for newborns since 2018. This points to a clear societal shift.
The Transformation of Names in Data (2025)
Newborn Boy Name Preferences (By Number)
Alparslan
7,509
Göktuğ
6,029
Miran
3,751
Mustafa
2,407
Ahmet
2,280
Traditional Heritage: Mehmet still ranks 1st across Turkey with over 1.2M people, but fell to 11th among newborns.
New Trend: Miran rose to 6th place in 2025, surpassing long-established names like Ömer and Miraç.
Phonetic Barriers in the Registry System
While modern and nationalist names have climbed to the top, Kurdish names like Jan, Ciwan, and Arîn remain “invisible” in official statistics due to bureaucratic and phonetic barriers.
Source: TURKSTAT 2018-2025 Dataset. Chart by Niha+ Special News.
The “Outlier” hame on the list
There is, in fact, an “outlier” name among TURKSTAT’s top 30: Mîran. This name entered the Turkish naming landscape primarily through the television industry.
Mîran, which means “Mirs” or “Lords” in Kurdish, ranks 6th on the 2025 list. While Mîran was not among the top 30 names in 2018, it made an entry at 8th place in 2019. This rise is clearly linked to the influence of the TV series Hercai, which began airing in 2019 and featured a lead character named Miran Aslanbey. Following this series, the name Mîran experienced a rapid surge among male names in Turkey. Between 2020 and 2023, it fluctuated within the top 30, ranking 12th in 2024 and reaching 6th place in 2025.
This example serves as a case study for several reasons: the reliance on information in some circles that the name has Persian origins, the ease of acceptance for a name that has become a popular culture element, and the fact that it does not contain the distinctive letters of the Kurdish alphabet such as “X, Q, W.” This situation demonstrates that through popular culture, the name has been stripped of its “ethno-political” context and has become an aesthetic choice for parents from diverse backgrounds.
Kurdish names hitting the “Letter” barrier
However, beyond the name Mîran, there is a blind spot in the mirror held by official statistics. In that blind spot lies the reality of families whose chosen Kurdish names for their children hit a “letter barrier” and who must engage in a legal struggle to obtain identification documents.
Article 66 of the Constitution states, “Everyone bound to the Turkish State through the bond of citizenship is a Turk.” Yet, it is well known that people of many ethnic backgrounds other than Turkish live in Turkey, and these individuals give their children names in their own mother tongues. Due to legal and practical obstacles in Turkey, no official records are kept regarding ethnic and linguistic origins, and thus no concrete data is available. Nevertheless, daily practices show that Kurdish parents frequently give their newborns Kurdish names—a situation that has become much more visible in recent years.
Names like Bêrîvan, Zîlan, Baran, Sosin, Rojbîn, and Rojhat are heard more frequently in streets, cafes, and universities. Despite this, official statistics do not mention these names. Since TURKSTAT only provides the top 30 names, there is no information regarding names below that rank. Therefore, while conducting an objective assessment is naturally difficult, certain daily practices and obstacles bring to the fore several possibilities regarding why Kurdish names do not appear in the top 30.
Are these names absent simply because they are fewer in number, or is it because population registries—despite various amendments over time to Law No. 1353 on the Adoption and Application of Turkish Letters—still prevent such names from being recorded on IDs?
Lives with two names
While there haven’t been many reports in the press recently, news stories from a few years ago detailed the many difficulties faced by families giving their children Kurdish names.
During the research for this report, we learned the story of a father who went to the registry office years ago wanting to name his child “Rojhat.” The official at the registry office said of the name Rojhat, “This name is not allowed; it must be another name,” and forced the father to accept the official’s own name as the child’s name for the ID.
Consequently, there are people whose real names are Rozerîn or Rojbîn but are officially recorded as Ayşe or Zeynep. There are individuals who are Rozerîn, Botan, or Rojbîn at home but are Zeynep, Ayşe, or Ahmet in schools and government offices. In one case, a woman named Ayşe, whose real name was Rojbîn, took out a loan despite her poor financial situation to change her name through the courts. However, she passed away while the court case was still ongoing and was buried under the name Ayşe.
“Jan” or “Can”?
An incident in 2022 provides clues regarding the “gray areas” in TURKSTAT’s data. (The names of the family have been withheld for security reasons). A. and C. wanted to name their newborn Jan Arvîn. They went to the registry office in their province. The official asked, “What language is Jan?” The family replied that it is both Kurdish and Circassian. The official responded, “No, it’s not possible; we cannot accept Kurdish,” but stated they could accept it if it were a Turkish name.
When the family insisted on Jan, noting that a famous person had recently used a Kurdish name, the official replied, “They are artists; they have long arms; they can do it.” He then gave another example: “For instance, someone else came last week. Their name was Ciwan. We solved the problem by writing it as Civan. Come, let’s change your J to a C and make it Can. Look, this child will face many problems in the future in school and among friends because of this name.” When the family remained persistent, they were sent to a higher official and were eventually allowed to use the name Jan only after signing a document stating they took all responsibility.
Kurdish Names: A Century-Old Struggle
The process of “naming by signing a waiver” is a lingering consequence of Turkey’s language and identity policies over the last 100 years. Here is the chronology filled with bans, circulars, and “alphabet” barriers:
1925Law on Maintenance of Order and Reform Plan for the East
With the proclamation of the Republic, the use of languages other than Turkish was prohibited. Under Article 41 of the Reform Plan for the East, penalties were imposed on those using non-Turkish languages in public spaces and government offices.
1928Law No. 1353 on the Adoption and Application of Turkish Letters
The law transitioning to the Latin alphabet became the primary justification for blocking the registration of Kurdish names (specifically due to characters like q, w, x).
1980 – 1991Law No. 2932: Absolute Prohibition
Following the September 12 coup, the use of Kurdish was completely banned. Although repealed in 1991, the reality of “dual naming” (official vs. traditional) persisted in bureaucracy.
2002 – 2003EU Harmonization and “Conditional” Naming Rights
Through a Ministry of Interior circular, the ban on names was lifted under the condition of “compliance with the Turkish alphabet.”
During this period, civil registry offices continued to reject Kurdish names on grounds such as “general morality.”
2006Civil Registry Services Law No. 5490
The new law guaranteed the right to name children; however, bureaucratic obstacles and the “character ban” remained in effect.
Present DayThe Alphabet Wall and Legal Battles
Names like “Awin, Bawer, Xunaw” are still subject to bureaucratic hurdles and lawsuits due to letters not present in the official Turkish alphabet.
Constitutional Obstacles
Article 3: “The language of the State of Turkey is Turkish.” (Barrier to official recognition)
Article 42: “No language other than Turkish shall be taught as a mother tongue.” (Educational barrier)
*Infographics were created by the AI tool Gemini. Some names have been changed due to individual requests and security reasons.
“While geothermal power companies have reaped huge profits thanks to incentives and purchase guarantees, the local population has not even been able to benefit directly from the electricity generated,” says Deniz Mine Öztürk, pointing out that ecological and social devastation lies hidden behind the “clean energy” rhetoric of geothermal power plants.
Source: Afyonkarahisar University of Health Sciences Energy Management Unit website
Geothermal power plant (GPP) projects, which are concentrated in the provinces of Aydın, İzmir, Manisa, and Denizli, are facing backlash from local communities and experts. The GPP projects planned for the districts of Varto in Muş and Karlıova in Bingöl will affect the natural habitats of a total of 22 villages. Experts and local residents are opposing two separate GPP projects to be implemented by the U.S.-based Ignis H2 Energy Production Inc. in Varto and Karlıova, stating that these projects will have a severely negative impact not only on human life but also on natural ecosystems and animal life.
Residents in the Aegean region, particularly in Aydın, continue to voice complaints about increased cancer risks, the smell of rotten eggs, and the decline in agricultural productivity due to geothermal power plants.
Öztürk: Underground minerals, gases, and heavy metals have toxic effects
Deniz Mine Öztürk
Deniz Mine Öztürk, a Ph.D. candidate in energy geography at Clark University, shared her insights with Niha+ regarding the ecological damage caused by geothermal power plants. Öztürk explained that there are different types of technology used to generate energy from geothermal sources:
“Most of the sources in Turkey are hydrothermal, formed when underground water reserves are heated by heat transmitted from the Earth’s core. Heat from the core can be transmitted to points near the Earth’s surface through fractured rocks in areas with tectonic activity. In these regions, geothermal fluid is extracted to the surface through drilled wells to generate energy. To both extend the sustainability of the resource and protect surface ecosystems, this extracted fluid must be reinjected back into the same location after energy is generated.”
Öztürk explained that as one descends deeper into the Earth, temperature and pressure increase, and this causes the minerals, metals, and gases present in the rocks contacted by the accumulated fluid to dissolve more readily. He emphasized that geothermal fluids vary depending on the region, depth, and the rock they come into contact with; in geothermal sources in Anatolia, minerals such as sodium, calcium carbonate, and sulfate, along with trace metals like boron, arsenic, and lithium, have been identified:
“When these minerals, heavy metals, and gases from the subsurface ecosystem are brought to the surface, they can have toxic effects on living organisms.”
Sodium
Na
Calcium Carbonate
CaCO₃
Sulfate
SO₄²⁻
Boron
B
Arsenic
As
Lithium
Li
Carbon Dioxide
CO₂
Hydrogen Sulfide
H₂S
Sulfuric Acid
H₂SO₄
Referring to the consequences of the fluid extraction process, Öztürk stated the following:
“Due to the high cost of reinjecting the extracted fluid back into the same location and the flexibilities provided by the Geothermal Law No. 5686, it has been observed that some geothermal power plants in the Western Aegean discharge the fluid into the ground or nearby water bodies. This has caused contamination in the soil, as well as in groundwater and surface water sources. Additionally, when re-injection is not fully carried out, over time the decline in the source’s pressure and the resulting decrease in groundwater levels have led to ground subsidence and fissures.”
“Hydrogen sulfide with a rotten egg smell in Aydın”
Explaining that non-condensable gases present in the fluid are released into the atmosphere through power plant chimneys during reinjection, Öztürk added that these gases include carbon dioxide (CO2)—one of the primary causes of climate change—and hydrogen sulfide (H2S), which has a rotten egg odor and is both toxic and flammable:
“One of the most frequently mentioned concerns in Aydın is the smell of hydrogen sulfide. Hydrogen sulfide can also react in the air to form sulfuric acid, leading to acid rain. Acid rain, in turn, causes respiratory difficulties in humans and animals and disrupts plant growth.”
Öztürk, noting that geothermal companies produce energy under the guise of “clean” energy compared to fossil fuel use, reminded that carbon dioxide emissions from geothermal power plants in Turkey are far above global averages:
“At some plants, emissions rival those of fossil fuel power plants. This means they contribute to global climate change in the long term. In addition, geothermal power plants release large amounts of water vapor, which alters the local climate.”
“Drilling can cause stress in animals”
According to Öztürk, the various elements contained in geothermal fluids, along with the resulting acid rain and climate change, can negatively impact the development of plant and animal species. Noting that these processes threaten biodiversity and endemic species, Öztürk said, “The intense noise and vibrations generated during drilling, exploration, and power plant operations can cause stress in animals and affect their migration and reproductive behaviors.”
Additionally, Öztürk noted that geothermal power plants (GPPs) built near agricultural areas can degrade soil quality, contaminate irrigation water, and consequently reduce agricultural yields. He added that damage to pastures and water sources can create significant pressures on livestock farming activities.
“These projects were implemented through top-down decisions”
Öztürk stated that authoritarian methods and corporate policies aimed at increasing company profits have caused multi-dimensional injustices in the Büyük Menderes and Gediz Graben regions—where geothermal power plants are predominantly built—specifically in Aydın, İzmir, and Manisa:
“Polluted air, water, and soil have had negative effects on the health of humans, non-human living beings, and ecosystems. The food produced in the region has been contaminated. Future generations have been deprived of their right to benefit from these natural and clean ecosystems. While geothermal power companies have reaped huge profits through incentives and purchase guarantees, the local population has not even been able to benefit directly from the electricity produced. On top of that, they lost their means of livelihood and their living spaces.”
Reminding that these projects were implemented through top-down decisions, Öztürk said, “Expropriation orders were issued in haste for land that villagers did not want to sell. People were deprived of the land where they had labored for generations, accumulated memories, and shaped their culture.”
“The local community, municipalities, experts, civil society organizations, and opposition parties were not included in the decision-making processes. They were deprived of the rights to ‘participation’ in decision-making processes—one of the most fundamental democratic rights—and the right to be recognized as a subject,” according to Öztürk’s observation. While JES companies are free to organize and easily convey their demands to the government, the organization of local communities opposing these projects was criminalized:
“The villagers’ right to protest the companies was met with attacks by law enforcement; lawsuits were filed against protesters, and they were detained. In fact, following the JES resistance in Aydın/Mezeköy, a state of emergency was declared for one week; entry and exit to the village were banned. Thus, multi-dimensional injustices—ecological, economic, political, social, and cultural—were created in the Western Aegean.”
“The displacement of Kurds and Alevis will exacerbate social inequality”
Öztürk noted that the planned new geothermal power plant projects in Muş and Bingöl, which are set to be built in Kurdish and Alevi villages historically forced to migrate in Turkey, add another dimension to the situation:
“The potential for Kurds and Alevis to be effectively driven from their living spaces and deprived of their means of livelihood poses profound social and cultural threats. In a region where people were forcibly displaced through the emptying of their villages throughout the 1980s and 1990s, the prospect of their being dispossessed once again—deprived of their living spaces, cultures, and social ties—will lead to the reproduction of historical injustices and the deepening of social inequalities. “However, despite all the injustices created and the deepening power imbalances throughout the process, the people organized in the Western Aegean have halted numerous projects through their determination and persistence. In this sense, I am certain that the organizational experience and political awareness demonstrated in Muş and Bingöl will serve as an example for energy projects in other parts of Turkey.”
Referring to Ignis H2’s report that new hot water sources had formed around Kaynarpınar village following the 2023 Maraş earthquakes, Öztürk noted that the region lies on two highly active fault lines.
According to Öztürk, the risks associated with the project can be assessed from two perspectives in this context: first, the earthquakes that geothermal activities could trigger, and second, the responses that geothermal systems might exhibit to natural earthquakes.
After the 4.3-magnitude earthquake centered in Güzgülü-Yedisu on the morning of April 26, statements from the Kandilli Observatory and Naci Görür were reported in the press. In a statement made via social media, the Kandilli Observatory highlighted that the tremor in Yedisu occurred along one of Turkey’s most high-risk “seismic gaps.”
Geoscientist Prof. Dr. Naci Görür stated in his social media post that if the Yedisu fault—identified as one of Turkey’s most high-risk areas—were to rupture, a major earthquake would severely impact Erzincan, Bingöl, and Dersim.
A seismic gap is a segment of an active fault known to have remained stationary for a relatively long period compared to other segments along the same line, and which produces significant earthquakes.
The Yedisu fault is located at the eastern end of the North Anatolian Fault (NAF).
Öztürk, noting that there are examples of projects that were canceled due to studies indicating that well drilling and the reinjection of fluid into the ground at high pressure at geothermal power plants could trigger earthquake risks, listed the following examples:
“For example, in Pohang, South Korea, a geothermal power plant was shut down in 2017 after it was determined that the reinjection of fluid into the ground had triggered a 5.5-magnitude earthquake. In Germany, a geothermal project developed in 2014 sparked public backlash due to earthquake risks and potential pollution. Ultimately, it was decided that the electricity to be generated would not justify the risk, and the project was canceled before it even began.”
“On the other hand, these geothermal pipes can sometimes burst on their own. According to Öztürk, who noted that “examples of this have occurred repeatedly in Manisa and Aydın,” the company must also clarify whether it has an emergency action plan in place to address the risk of an explosion (blow-up) under any circumstances, and whether it has developed a plan to assess and mitigate the consequences of explosion and leakage risks.
“Projects are being carried out without transparency”
He noted that one of the biggest problems with all energy projects in Turkey, including geothermal power plants, is that these projects are carried out without transparency from the exploration phase all the way through to the operation of the power plant:
“Announcements and news items are prepared solely to inform investors and are removed shortly thereafter. There is no intention to involve the public in the decision-making process, nor is there any aim to provide equal access to information about the process or the project. In Aydın, there have been instances where even villagers who own titled land in the exploration area only learned of the situation a month or two before drilling began. When official documents are collectively sent to the village head, it is up to him to decide when to share this information with the villagers. This can lead to villagers starting the legal process and practical organization from a position of disadvantage.”
In 2026, it was reported in the media that geothermal exploration areas in Balıkesir, Kayseri, Bitlis, Niğde, Malatya, Konya, Çorum, Kırşehir, and Erzincan were put out to tender. Additionally, it was noted that tenders were initiated for three geothermal areas in Ağrı, Adana, and Diyarbakır.
Evaluating the relationship between suspicious female deaths, impunity, and security policies, Eralp stated, “When a death remains suspicious, the issue should not only be finding the perpetrator, but also exposing the networks that make it possible to cover it up.”
Photo: Ekmek ve Gül, placard saying “How many more femicides are you going to disguise as (!) suicides?”
According to data shared by the We Will Stop Femicide Platform, while 294 women were killed by male violence in 2025, 297 women were found dead under suspicious circumstances. Today, many cases of violence defined as “suspicious deaths,” such as those of Rojin Kabaiş, Gülistan Doku, and Nadira Kadirova, are criticized by feminist and women’s movements for the lack of fair trials.
Eralp: Crimes left unpunished are consigned to uncertainty under the guise of ‘suspicious death’
Making an evaluation regarding suspicious female deaths and the judiciary’s policies of impunity, Feride Eralp, a member of Women Are Strong Together, stated that the announced data only covers cases reflected in the press. “These mean at least this many women were killed. When we also take into account the femicides and suspicious female deaths that are not reflected in the press, we can actually talk about much higher numbers,” she said.
Referring to the period when femicide statistics were announced more realistically, Eralp argued that the data disclosed in the past made the prevalence of male violence visible, which is why it is not shared today, saying, “A reality about how widespread violence against women is had been exposed.”
Stating that suspicious female deaths are not a new phenomenon, Eralp recalled the female suicides reported in Batman and Diyarbakır, especially in the 1990s and 2000s. Expressing that female deaths resulting from systematic male violence were brought to the agenda as suicides, she said, “Today, something similar is operating under the concept of ‘suspicious death’.”
“The crimes of those who feel the freedom to commit crimes by leaning their backs on powerful people—crimes involving various power relations within the state and gang formation—which remain unpunished and whose perpetrators are often not revealed, are consigned to uncertainty under the guise of ‘suspicious death’.”
Stating that the women’s movement has frequently brought this issue to the agenda in recent years by linking it with war policies, Eralp said that this situation is also a practice of making women disappear:
“This geography is accustomed to the result of disappearances in custody and the failure to prosecute perpetrators despite them being known by everyone, a state violence that intensified especially in the 90s but existed after the 80 coup. This has a previously experienced practice and form. Therefore, I can say that the women’s movement has significantly brought to the agenda how this has merged with systematic male violence and transformed into a practice of disappearance against women, especially after the end of the peace process in 2015 and the restart of the conflict process.”
“In theory, sentence increases; in practice, impunity”
Establishing a direct link between suspicious female deaths and policies of impunity, Eralp emphasized that the women’s movement has not followed a line of only demanding heavy sentences for years. Stating that sentence increases often create more impunity, she said the following:
“The last increase in sentences for sexual crimes was in 2015. At that time, as the Istanbul Feminist Collective, we said: ‘In theory, sentence increases; in practice, impunity.’ As sentences become heavier, the likelihood of judges giving those sentences gradually decreases. Especially in areas where evidence is difficult to obtain, such as sexual crimes, and in areas where the woman’s statement is essential, when you increase the sentence, they generally give up on sentencing altogether.”
Stating that changes in the execution system also create a perception in society that ‘they’ll get out anyway,’ Eralp noted that this makes it harder to prevent male violence:
“It constantly brings some aggravations for these types of crimes against women. But what happens in practice? In practice, the execution system is organized in such a way that none of these heavy sentences are executed in that manner. Either a pandemic amnesty comes or another reduction in execution follows. A perception has formed in everyone’s mind that someone who enters prison stays for a year or two, gets out, and moves to an open prison anyway. When this perception is formed, it becomes much harder to prevent male violence.”
“It is not the woman who says ‘the state protects me’ but the male perpetrator”
Emphasizing that women often make repeated requests for help before the murder, Eralp said that the failure to effectively implement restraining orders and complaints paves the way for murders:
“Women go to the state repeatedly, but crimes such as threats, insults, detention, and simple injury are almost never punished. From there, the path leading to murder is opened. While women and children should think ‘the state protects me from violence,’ on the contrary, male perpetrators think ‘no matter what I do to a woman, the state will protect me’.”
Stating that the sexist approach continues in judicial processes, Eralp expressed that even men who have no ties to anyone within the state can receive unjust provocation reductions and good conduct reductions simply due to selective judicial policies.
In the context of this approach in the judiciary, Eralp said that women’s lifestyles, sexual orientations, or clothing can still be made a subject of judgment in courtrooms. “We saw this practice in the Ayşe Tokyaz case. The killer Cemil Koç was trying to defend himself by trying to put the life of the woman he murdered on trial. This is just one example,” said Eralp, noting that women are exposed to this perspective by all men, from the rich to the poor. She added that these practices of impunity normalize violence against women, children, and LGBTI+ individuals.
“Women have now realized that violence is not normal”
According to Eralp, one of the most important gains of the feminist movement has been the social acceptance of male violence as a political issue. “In a country where at the end of the 1980s a judge could easily say, ‘you should never leave a woman’s belly without a foal or her back without a stick,’ it is much more difficult to utter this sentence today. Today, the perception among women that such a sentence cannot be uttered has become very strong,” she said.
Eralp explained that a transformation has taken place regarding the awareness of violence against women:
“Male violence against women is very common in Turkey. But we do not deserve this. In other words, him inflicting violence on me is not because something is wrong, lacking, or bad about me. That is the man’s problem. It stems from that man seeing himself as having the right to establish power over women and thinking he has the right to fortify this through violence the moment it is shaken. In fact, there is a change with the fact that gender inequality is now more widely known as a phenomenon. This change does not mean we face less violence, are killed less, or encounter less sexism. But we are not staying silent about them.”
Stating that women’s organizations have been fighting for years to prevent suspicious female deaths from being forgotten, Eralp said that the names of murdered women are specifically commemorated in protests. “Saying ‘suspicious death’ and closing the file is also an attempt at erasure. If we forget those names, they will have succeeded,” she stated.
“Musa Orhan received a sentence but did not go to prison. We continued to pursue this as well. We continued to keep it on the agenda constantly. For Gülistan Doku and Rojin Kabaiş, friends from the ÖGK (Student Youth Organizations) established justice commissions and brought this issue to the agenda in different cities. Different women’s organizations have been continuing to follow and pursue such cases in different cities for years and years. They continue to hold protests on this subject in the streets.”
“Not only the perpetrators, but also the crime networks must be exposed”
Stating that to prevent suspicious female deaths, not only the perpetrators but also the mechanisms that cover up the crimes must be exposed, Eralp drew attention to the networks of relations especially within the security bureaucracy and the judiciary:
“When a death remains suspicious, the issue should not only be finding the perpetrator, but also exposing the networks that make it possible to cover it up.”
Eralp said, “Today, there is talk of establishing a department for unsolved crimes and research. But we see that this is being established once again as a tool for a kind of political reckoning.” She emphasized that bringing some files back to the agenda is not enough on its own:
“The issue here is not just exposing the first stage. In the case of Gülistan Doku, as long as all the mechanisms that have allowed this to be covered up for 6 years are not touched, this system reproduces itself.”
“Security policies do not protect women”
Eralp said that the securitist policies defended on the grounds of women’s safety do not protect women in practice. Recalling the 700 hours of camera footage that went unexamined for years in the Gülistan Doku file, Eralp argued that the state’s security mechanisms are not for women’s safety, but to protect the interests of the state’s power centers.
Stating that the security system is often used for the purpose of suppressing protests and monitoring society, Eralp expressed that the sacralization of the security bureaucracy makes invisible the mechanisms that facilitate the covering up of femicides:
“This security network does not protect the interests of women and girls. When a woman went missing, it served no purpose for 6 years. In fact, on the contrary, it deleted the record. It saw the murdered woman. It ends up using its power directly to commit a crime.”
“The state must do its duty”
Eralp said, “If we pay taxes to this state, if we are citizens of this state, we must not give up demanding that the state do its duty.” Stating that women’s organizations continue to monitor cases for this reason, Eralp said that being present in courts means forcing state institutions to take responsibility:
“By being present in the courtrooms, we are saying this: You are obliged to conduct a trial that will ensure real justice, not one based on male-dominated prejudices.”
Expressing that the women’s movement makes it visible when police officers do not fulfill their duties, Eralp said that the slogan “Where was the police while women were dying?” came to the fore for this reason.
“Trustees in Kurdish provinces blocked the path of social transformation”
Recalling that local governments and women’s organizations developed important experiences in the past, especially in Kurdish provinces, Eralp said that trustee policies served a function that blocked this social transformation. Stating that women’s centers, shelters, and local solidarity networks played an important role in reducing female suicides and murders in Batman and Diyarbakır, Eralp noted that municipalism in Kurdish provinces radically transformed this situation; and that they did this not through a security mechanism, but through policies that erode gender inequality and by increasing the options for women to move away from violence.
Emphasizing that this is lived as social memory and experience, Eralp concluded her words by saying, “The ability of municipalities to produce policies for male violence in their own localities more autonomously without the fear of trustees, and therefore to take steps that strengthen gender equality, will certainly be able to reduce such deaths again, as it has reduced them before.”
26 femicides, 23 suspicious deaths in April 2026
According to data from the We Will Stop Femicide Platform, in just the first four months of 2026, at least 102 women were murdered, and the deaths of 99 women were recorded as “suspicious.”
According to data for April alone, 26 women were murdered, and 23 women were found dead under suspicious circumstances. Furthermore, 38% of the women were killed by the men they were married to. 69% of the women were killed in their homes.
Prominent events in the last 1 month
It was determined that Mustafa Türkay Sonel, the son of the governor of the period Tuncay Sonel, killed Gülistan Doku, who disappeared in Dersim on January 5, 2020, with a pistol. Sonel was arrested for the crime of “intentional killing” after being taken into custody. A total of 12 people were arrested as part of the investigation.
Within the scope of the investigation, 700 hours of camera footage were taken under examination 6 years later.
Photo: “Where is Gulistan Doku?”
It was announced that İlayda Zorlu was found dead on April 17 as a result of a shot from her father’s service pistol. Student and youth organizations organized protests in many cities to shed light on İlayda’s death.
Photo of İlayda Zorlu, placard saying “Not the lady of the house, but the rebel of the campus”
On May 7, the decision “not to grant permission for investigation” regarding the management of the KYK dormitory concerning the death of Rojin Kabaiş was overturned by the Erzurum Regional Administrative Court upon the appeal made by the Van Bar Association.
On April 8, it was reflected in the press that a man who entered the Ali İhsan Aldoğan Girls’ Dormitory inside the ITU Ayazağa Campus was caught topless in the laundry room by female students.
In the Varto and Karlıova regions, villagers have launched a resistance by setting up tents to protect their nature against a planned Geothermal Power Plant (GPP) project. It is reported that the first drilling activities for the projects in question are scheduled to begin on May 20.
The local population began their vigil after the American company Ignis H2 Inc. sought to implement two separate geothermal projects in the Varto (Gimgim) district of Muş and the Karlıova (Kanîreş) district of Bingöl. On May 3, residents set up a tent in the area where drilling is planned in Varto’s Çallıdere (Xwarik) village, demanding that the plants be stopped.
Experts and local residents point out that these projects carry risks of earthquakes and environmental destruction, warning they will destroy animal husbandry and life in the region.
Speaking regarding the tent protest, Varto resident Ali Rıza Vural said, “We promised one another that we would protect our land and our nature.” LawyerBahar Koç evaluated the situation by stating, “There are illegalities within the project introduction file.”
On April 24 in Varto and April 25 in Karlıova, rallies were held against the project, which will affect 22 villages, brought ecologists and people from many different cities together.
Vural: We are acting based on scientific reports
Ali Rıza Vural from Teknedüzü (Badan) village stated that they began organizing after examining the potential damages of the project through reports from the Union of Chambers of Turkish Engineers and Architects (TMMOB):
“This geothermal project has been on our agenda for about 3-4 months. First, we researched the damage geothermal energy causes to nature, people, and living things, and then we tried to explain it to our people. These aren’t just rote sentences; there is a real report from TMMOB. We focused intensely on this report. Out of fear that the same disasters experienced in the Greater Menderes Basin could happen here, we moved into a serious state of organization.”
16 villages on vigil against the May 20 drilling
Vural mentioned that between the villages of Çallıdere and Teknedüzü—where the first operating license was obtained and drilling is expected on May 20—the public has completed preparations to protect the area through a social reflex:
“We are trying to stand by our friends and provide support. We are providing logistical support. In three days, the youth will hand over the vigil shifts to the villages. In this sense, every evening, two of the 16 affected villages will keep watch there. Representatives of the village, including a mukhtar (village head), will be on duty. We promised each other that if the slightest thing happens while they are on watch at night, we will communicate, and we will all be in this field as a whole to protect our own land and nature.”
Photo: Varto Ecology Platform
Vural emphasized that their actions are not under the control of any political institution or NGO, but are entirely a local grassroots movement, stating that all villages have locked shoulders:
“Women, children, the elderly, and the youth… This is not under the direction of any politics, institution, or NGO; it is entirely the Varto Ecology Platform. I am talking about an organization where the old, the young, children—everyone, regardless of their political views—is united and solely claiming ownership of their nature.”
We grow stronger through solidarity
Stating that logistical and moral support for the tent resistance is growing every day, Vural said that neighbors have taken over the daily chores of those on watch:
“We can see from the tent visits that people from all walks of life come to visit. They offer all kinds of financial and moral support. The friends keeping watch there all have their own jobs and work. They have livestock. Despite this, other villagers and neighbors look after their animals and meet their needs in place of those on vigil. There is absolutely no compromise here. In fact, we are getting stronger.”
Expressing concerns that the state and ministries might clear the way for the company, Vural said that no matter what happens, they will not allow their lands to be touched.
Lawyer Koç: We are waiting for a stay of execution
Providing information on the legal dimensions of the projects intended for Varto and Bingöl, Lawyer Bahar Koç stated that separate lawsuits have been filed against both the “EIA (Environmental Impact Assessment) Not Required” decision and the operating license granted to the company:
“Normally, there is an ‘EIA not required’ decision and a license given to the company. Separate lawsuits must be filed for both. The Governor’s Office responded to both on different dates. Therefore, we filed two lawsuits, but their dates are not the same. We filed the lawsuit regarding the license earlier, and the one for the ‘EIA not required’ decision last week. Currently, our two cases are ongoing at the Bingöl Administrative Court.”
Emphasizing that the court has not yet made a decision and is waiting for the administration’s defense, Koç said the following regarding the process:
“A stay of execution has not been granted yet because the administration’s defense must be taken. The defense has not been made yet; the legal process continues. Since the authorized court in the region where the project will be built is the Bingöl Administrative Court, we filed our lawsuits there. After the defense comes from the administration, a date for a site discovery will be set.”
Social reaction is essential against a possible de facto situation
Stating that they do not have a stay of execution order in hand against the drilling work expected on May 20, Koç expressed that social reaction is essential to prevent the company from entering the field until a court decision is reached:
“Since the company holds the license, they may come and create a de facto situation. To prevent this, only a social reaction is necessary. Through social reaction, we are trying to stop this and ensure that a stay of execution is obtained from the court as soon as possible. This process is carried out in this two-pronged manner all over Turkey: social reaction on one side and the legal process on the other.”
This is a search for justice
Defending that the vigil tents established under the leadership of the youth are both a search for justice and a legally appropriate reaction, Koç said, “The project introduction file is full of provisions contrary to the law. In the face of such unlawfulness, it is perfectly legal for our friends to show resistance, set up tents, and keep watch there.”
While the ceasefire reached between Iran and its rivals in 2026 may have reduced tensions in the region, the situation is different for the Kurdish opposition. This “silent war,” continuing with drones and operations along the border, proves that the ceasefire is not peace but merely a change of strategy.
A drone strike in Sulamaniyah (Rudaw)
The ceasefire announced on April 8, 2026, between Iran and its external opponents was seen by many as a sign of lower tension in the region. However, for Iran’s Kurdish opposition movements, it did not mean sign of peace. In the area between Rojhelat, Eastern Kurdistan, and the Kurdistan Region of Iraq, the conflict did not end; it just changed its form.
While international attention focused on Iran, the United States, and Israel, another conflict continued along the Iran-Iraq border. After the ceasefire, Iranian military operations appeared to focus more directly on Kurdish opposition groups. These groups were targeted with drones, missiles, arrests, and security pressure.
This is why the situation can be called a “silent war.” It is not an official war, and there is no formal declaration. But attacks, pressure, fear, and deaths continue. It is “silent” because it receives much less international attention than other conflicts in the region.
From ceasefire to targeted attacks
After the ceasefire, Iran’s military focus seemed to shift toward Kurdish opposition groups based in Iraqi Kurdistan, including the Kurdistan Democratic Party of Iran, PDKI, Komala, and PAK.
Reports by human rights and regional monitoring organisations indicate that violence did not end after the ceasefire but shifted toward Iranian Kurdish opposition groups. CPT Iraqi Kurdistan recorded 48 attacks between 8 and 24 April 2026, of which 37 targeted Iranian Kurdish opposition camps and bases, compared with only four attacks on U.S. diplomatic or military facilities. The same report stated that 75 percent of post-ceasefire attacks were carried out directly by the IRGC, while 25 percent were attributed to affiliated groups. Human rights organisations such as the Kurdistan Human Rights Network and Hengaw also documented deadly IRGC attacks on PDKI and Komala-linked sites, including the killing of Kurdish opposition members and civilians.
The Kurdistan Regional Government’s Media and Information Office announced that between February 28 and April 20, the Kurdistan Region was targeted in a total of 809 attacks, despite not being a party to the war.
This pattern points to a clear shift in Iran’s security focus. Tehran sees these Kurdish groups as both an internal and cross-border threat because they are linked to Kurdish areas inside Iran and are also based in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq. For Kurdish groups, the ceasefire did not bring real security. It only changed the direction of Iran’s pressure.
This conflict mainly takes place along the mountainous Iran-Iraq border, especially around Hewler and Sulaymaniyah, where Iranian Kurdish opposition groups have had bases for many years.
In mid-April 2026, a drone attack hit the Surdash area near Sulaymaniyah. The attack seriously injured Ghazal Mawlan Chaparabad, a young Kurdish female peshmerga affiliated with Komala Toilers of Kurdistan, who later died from her injuries. According to a HANA Human Rights Organization legal team report, she first received only initial emergency care at Shorsh Hospital and then needed urgent higher-level treatment, including advanced imaging, specialist trauma care, and intensive care support. HANA also reported serious allegations that her admission or transfer to other hospitals was delayed or refused, and that her condition worsened during these delays. This case shows that Kurdish opposition camps and nearby remote areas may be especially vulnerable after drone attacks, not only because of the strikes themselves, but also because wounded people may face delays in reaching advanced medical care.
Ghazal Mawlan Chaparabad (hana.org)
A few days later, another attack hit the Jezhnikan camp near Hewler. Rudaw reported that a drone attack killed Shahin Azarbarzin, the son of a Peshmerga fighter, and seriously wounded his father. Kurdistan24 also reported that the camp housed civilians and that women and children were among the injured in related attacks. This shows that these camps are not only military or political spaces; families and civilians also live there. Together with the case of Ghazal Mawlan, this raises concern about whether wounded people in remote camp areas can reach advanced emergency care quickly after drone or missile attacks.
The danger was not limited to fighters or military sites. Civilian areas were also at risk. As a result, many Kurdish camps and nearby communities now live with constant insecurity.
Rojhelat under internal pressure
At the same time, pressure inside Iran’s Kurdish regions also increased. Hengaw reported that Iranian authorities increased the presence of plainclothes forces and created new checkpoints at city entrances, on inter-city roads, and on rural roads around Sine. It also reported that security-linked forces were deployed in several Kurdish border areas to create fear, prevent possible protests, and control public space. The report mentioned Hashd al-Shaabi forces, tanks, and armored vehicles in some Kurdish border areas. A Washington Kurdish Institute digest also described expanded military and proxy-force deployment in Kurdish areas. Together, these reports suggest that Kurdish areas were under stronger public security control after the ceasefire.
For Kurdish people, this meant more surveillance, less freedom of movement, and constant pressure. Human rights reports from the same period mentioned arrests without warrants, detention without family contact, and the execution of a Kurdish political prisoner. For example, KHRN reported that Yousef Karimi, a Kurdish man from Bukan, was arrested without a warrant and held without contact with his family. Separately, Hengaw reported that Kurdish political prisoner Naser Bakrzadeh was executed in May 2026 after his death sentence had been upheld by Iran’s Supreme Court.
These actions show that Iran was using two strategies at the same time: outside Iran, it tried to weaken Kurdish opposition groups in Iraqi Kurdistan; inside Iran, it tried to stop political mobilisation in Rojhelat.
Why Is Iran doing this?
Image: Rudaw
Iran’s strategy seems to be based on fear of instability. During the wider crisis in early 2026, Chatham House reported that Kurdish opposition groups faced pressure and uncertainty because of mixed U.S. messages about a possible Kurdish uprising. It also noted that Kurdish groups based in Iraq could, in theory, create space for wider opposition activity inside Iran, but that this would be very risky because Iranian security forces still had strong capacity for violence.
The attacks after the ceasefire can therefore be understood as a warning. Iran wanted to stop Kurdish groups from reorganising, weaken their cross-border networks, and prevent Kurdish mobilisation inside Rojhelat and across the border in Iraqi Kurdistan. In this sense, the post-ceasefire attacks were not random. They were part of a security strategy aimed at controlling Kurdish political activity both inside and outside Iran.
The Conflict has changed, not ended
The April 2026 ceasefire may have reduced the risk of a larger regional war, but it did not bring stability everywhere. For Kurdish opposition movements and the wider area between Rojhelat and Iraqi Kurdistan, the conflict continued without being officially recognised.
It was not a traditional war with large battles. It was a conflict fought through drones, surveillance, arrests, and targeted attacks. For this reason, the situation in Rojhelat was not real peace, but a transformed conflict.
The Kurdish question in Iran is no longer only an internal issue. It has become part of a wider regional security struggle. The conflict has not ended; it has only become quieter, less visible, and easier for the world to overlook.
May 1st in Turkey, lastly celebrated in Taksim Square in 2012. We have compiled a chronicle of May 1st celebrations marked by police interventions and mass detentionsagainst the ban on Taksim.
Photo: Murat Bay
Since 1976, May 1st in Turkey has been defined by the persistence of workers to reach Taksim Square. Following the “1977 May Day Massacre,” the square became both a symbol of labor rights and the country’s most contested protest site. Despite long-standing bans, unions and leftist organizations continue to claim Taksim as the traditional heart of May Day celebrations.
Here is a summary of the events following the ban on Taksim Square over the last 13 years:
May Day in Istanbul from 2013 to 2025: The Taksim ban, police interventions, mass detentions, and the ongoing struggle.
1,000+
Total detentions (at least)
13 years
Ongoing Taksim ban
100+
Total number of arrests
2013
Following its reopening in 2010, Taksim was banned once again. The Governor’s Office cited the “pedestrianization project” as the reason. Extraordinary security measures were taken across the city; bridges were raised, and roads were closed. Hours-long police interventions occurred in many areas, particularly Beşiktaş and Şişli. Even hospitals and homes were affected by tear gas. It was reported that 30,000 police officers were deployed to Taksim that day. According to the Governor’s Office, 25 protesters (3 serious), 6 journalists, and 22 police officers (3 serious) were injured.
72 detentions
2014
Taksim Square was completely cordoned off. Intense tear gas and water cannons were used throughout the day in Şişli, Mecidiyeköy, and surrounding areas. Health institutions and journalists were also impacted by the interventions.
171 detentions • 12 journalists injured
2015
Entry to Taksim was prohibited. Only a limited number of unions were allowed to lay wreaths at the monument. Interventions targeted small groups across the city. Allegations surfaced regarding police entering political party buildings.
203 detentions, 13 arrested
2016
Celebrations were moved to Bakırköy. Despite this, interventions continued against groups attempting to reach Taksim. Various political and union groups were redirected to alternative areas. A citizen named Nail Mavuş lost his life after being crushed due to an uncontrolled maneuver by a water cannon vehicle (TOMA).
231 detentions, 5 arrested
2017
The Taksim ban remained in effect. Groups gathering at various points in Istanbul were detained, including individuals attempting to hold sit-in protests.
165 detentions
2018
The Governor’s Office rejected all applications. The rally site was moved to Maltepe. Taksim was sealed off with barriers starting from the early hours of the morning.
84 detentions
2019
Interventions were carried out against groups gathering in Şişli. Detentions of those attempting to march toward Taksim continued throughout the day.
119 detentions
2020
Curfews under pandemic conditions were cited as grounds for restrictions. Reports included allegations of ill-treatment, assault, and reverse-handcuffing during detentions.
48 detentions
2021
Despite the curfew, groups attempting to march to Taksim faced harsh intervention. Union representatives were among those detained.
212 detentions
2022
After a two-year hiatus, a mass rally was held in Maltepe. Groups heading toward Taksim were once again blocked, leading to further detentions.
100+ detentions
2023
Numerous groups attempting to march to Taksim from Şişli and Beşiktaş were detained. There were attempts to prevent members of the press from recording the events.
80+ detentions
2024
The Constitutional Court (AYM) ruled that Taksim is a legitimate May Day site and declared the Governor’s ban a “rights violation.” Thousands gathered in Saraçhane to march to Taksim, but police blocked the route with barricades. The confrontation lasted approximately 1.5 hours, followed by house raids. In 2025, the court found the ban to be unlawful.
268 detentions, 77 arrested
2025
Operations were conducted against organizations calling for a Taksim gathering. Throughout the day, barricades in Mecidiyeköy were challenged amidst ongoing interventions. According to the Progressive Lawyers Association (ÇHD), a total of 419 people, including 10 children and 11 lawyers, were detained in Şişli.
419 detentions, 13 arrested
Source: Human rights organizations and press compilations.
2013: The return of the ban
After allowing celebrations in 2010, the AKP government reimposed the ban in 2013. The Governor’s Office cited a “pedestrianization” project as the reason.
30,000 officers were deployed.
Bridges of Galata and Unkapanı were dismantled to block access.
Police used tear gas and water cannons against groups in Beşiktaş and Şişli. Tear gas was fired at ambulances and into the garden of Şişli Etfal Hospital.
At least 72 people were detained.
2014, May 1
Taksim was closed to everyone except police and accredited journalists.
While small pro-government unions were briefly allowed to lay wreaths, others faced heavy intervention in Tarlabaşı, Şişli, and Beşiktaş.
22 people were hospitalized with fractures, 12 journalists were injured by gas canisters and rubber bullets.
171 people were detained.
2015, May 1
Unions like DİSK and KESK insisted on Taksim, but were blocked.
Police fired tear gas into the CHP district building in Beşiktaş.
203 people were detained; 13 were officially arrested.
2016, May 1
Major unions (DİSK, KESK, TMMOB, TTB) decided to hold the main rally in Bakırköy for this year only. However, other leftist groups still marched toward Taksim.
231 detentions and 5 arrests near Beşiktaş and Şişli.
2017, May 1
The Interior Minister announced Taksim would remain closed. Main unions moved to Bakırköy again.
165 people attempting to reach Taksim were detained across various districts.
2018, May 1
Main unions moved to Maltepe, while socialist groups headed for Taksim.
The square was completely surrounded by barriers early in the morning; even journalists were barred.
84 people were taken into custody.
2019, May 1
Groups gathered at Şişli Cevahir Mall to march to Taksim but were met with police intervention.
119 people were detained.
2020, May 1
During the pandemic, 48 people were detained. Lawyers from ÇHD reported that detainees were subjected to “plastic handcuff torture,” beatings, and insults. One person’s arm was broken during the intervention.
2021, May 1
Despite a lockdown and rejected applications, unions tried to march from Dolmabahçe.
212 people were detained, many of whom were dragged on the ground. DİSK President Arzu Çerkezoğlu was among those detained.
2022, May 1
After a two-year pandemic break, mass celebrations returned.
At least 100 people were detained while trying to reach the square from multiple points. The official rally was held in Maltepe.
2023, May 1
Groups from various unions and socialist parties attempted to walk from Şişli and Beşiktaş.
At least 80 people were detained.
2024: The Saraçhane barricade
Unions and the CHP gathered at Saraçhane to march to Taksim, citing a Constitutional Court ruling that the ban was illegal.
Police formed a massive barricade under the historic Bozdoğan Aqueduct.
Police used water cannons, tear gas, and rubber bullets.
210 people were detained on the day, 47 more were taken in during house raids on May 3.
Governor Davut Gül stated, “The state may leave it for tomorrow, but it won’t let it go unpunished.”
2025, May 1
A new May 1st organizing committee declared “Taksim belongs to the people.”
Police operations targeted organizers on April 29 and 30, around 92 people were detained.
Protesters repeatedly challenged police barriers in Mecidiyeköy throughout the day.
407 people were detained, 7 were arrested. Reports of reverse-handcuffing and police brutality were documented in Mecidiyeköy.
Elevatorz NG, the Nigerian guests of the International Amed Theater Festival, surprised the audience by blending their modern performance with the Kurdish dance Cida: “Movement is a universal language; this warm welcome in Diyarbakır made us feel right at home.”
“A scene from the ‘Connecting Bridges’ dance performance. Photo: Elevatorz NG”
Elevatorz NG, participating from Nigeria in the 11th Amed International Theater Festival organized by the Diyarbakır Metropolitan Municipality, presented a dance performance titled ‘Connecting Bridges.’ Founded by two brothers, Michael and Samson Vatorz, the group aims to convey a message of ‘unity’ and ‘respect’ by bringing together Nigeria’s national dances with dances from various parts of the world.
The staging approach adopts a minimalist and symbolic aesthetic that places the performer’s body, movement, and voice at the center of the theatrical experience. The stage is designed as an open, fluid space, allowing choreography and spatial relationships to define shifting emotional and narrative landscapes. Stage props are minimal, functioning as abstract representations of barriers and bridges that can be reconfigured to evoke division, negotiation, and connection. The aesthetic language emphasizes physical expression; lighting is used to isolate moments of conflict and gradually opens up to warmer, more inclusive states as dialogue emerges. The costumes are made of African fabrics in contemporary styles, allowing the performers to represent multiple identities rather than fixed characters. Overall, the staging prioritizes clarity, intimacy, and adaptability, supporting the work’s focus on themes of dialogue, empathy, and peace, while allowing the audience to engage imaginatively with the symbolic world of the performance.
The show met with the audience on April 27th at the Çand Amed Great Hall. Dance and music artist Serhat Kural spoke with Michael and Samson Vatorz for Niha+ about their dance performance, their dance work in Nigeria, and their impressions of Diyarbakır.
“There is nothing that dialogue cannot solve”
Serhat: First of all, I want to welcome you to Amed and this international theater festival. As a dancer, I am very happy to have watched your show; it was truly beautiful. Could you tell us a bit about who you are and your background?
Michael Vatorz: Hi, my name is Michael, also known as Michael Vatorz.
Samson Vatorz: My name is Samson, also known as Samson Vatorz, and together we are Elevatorz NG.
Michael: Elevatorz NG is a dance and theater company; beyond dance, we also act. We have a bit of a singing background as well, so we incorporate that into our work, but we are primarily active as actors, dancers, and creative directors. We have been established as Elevatorz NG since 2010. So far, we have competed in several competitions and are currently the winners of World of Dance Nigeria. We were the first K-pop ambassadors in Nigeria and represented our country in Seoul, South Korea. We have participated in several other festivals outside of Nigeria, and this is what we do full-time.
Serhat: And when did you start working together?
Samson: Well, we are brothers. We have been working together since birth.
Serhat: Could you tell us a bit about your piece? What message do you want to convey to the audience?
Michael: The piece, “Connecting Bridges,” is simply about “dialogue for peace,” much like the festival’s theme. We actually created this dance piece back in 2023. We performed a shorter version of it when we represented Nigeria at the ITI World Congress in Fujairah. That was where the organizers saw us and invited us here because the dance-theater piece matches the festival theme so well. We created an extended version specifically for this festival. The piece is designed to say that regardless of our ideologies, family backgrounds, or religious beliefs, we are humans first. There is nothing that dialogue cannot solve; we simply need to sit together and talk about it, and we will definitely find a way. We wanted to express these thoughts through our dancing and the dialogue within the piece.
“Peace means unity and respect.”
Serhat: If you had to use just one word to describe peace in your country, what would it be?
Samson: You mean the meaning of peace for our country?
Serhat: Yes.
Michael: If it is just one word, we will likely have different ones. He can say his word, and then I will say mine.
Samson For me, the word is respect . I say respect because if you respect another person’s culture, views, and traditions, you can live together. You do not necessarily have to adopt their culture or do what they do. You have your own culture; they respect yours, you respect theirs, and everyone can coexist.
Michael: To add to what he said, we went out today and witnessed something that represents why I chose the word unity. We visited a church and saw Muslims inside who were very welcoming. Then we went to a mosque, and they were so happy to see us; they hugged us regardless of where we came from or who we were. They just wanted us to be their friends. One man in particular was so happy, and it was quite emotional for me. We said to ourselves: if we can all act this way, there will be so much unity and peace.
Serhat: What was the journey like while creating this project? From the beginning to the end of the piece, you emphasized that we can live much more peacefully and beautifully. You also had great concentration on stage; could you tell us a bit about that?
Michael: Regarding the experience of creating the piece and maintaining the tempo and character throughout… I will start with the fact that we have been together all our lives because we are brothers. That is a major advantage. I know there are brothers who fight or do not even speak to each other, but we see ourselves as more than just brothers; we are one. That bond kept us together and made creating the piece much easier because we already have a shared mindset on how we flow. Secondly, maintaining the tempo in the performance was not something we just learned; we had to practice over and over again. Practice is what makes a dancer a professional. Anyone can dance, but not everyone can perform at a professional level. Repeated practice and engagement with the audience were key. We fed off the energy the audience gave us. When they gave us positive energy, it boosted our morale on stage and kept us going. We didn’t even notice when the piece came to an end.
Serhat: Your piece featured traditional costumes. Why did you choose traditional costumes for this mix of dance styles?
Samson: Because they are beautiful. We started a movement in 2017 that we called “Trado-HipHop” at the time. We see ourselves as cultural ambassadors. Nigeria has many languages, and while that can sometimes cause minor hiccups, it is also our unique strength that makes us dynamic. Nigeria is a beautiful country because, despite these many tongues, it remains one nation. To have stayed together for 66 years as one country despite this diversity is commendable. We feel a responsibility to promote this culture for the world to see. As for the hip-hop element, we started as hip-hop dancers and later added traditional dancing professionally. We decided we couldn’t throw hip-hop away because it is a culture, specifically a Black culture, and we love cultures from all around the world. We wanted to fuse our traditional dances with hip-hop without diluting either. We have now evolved the name to trado-pop as of 2026. The reason for the change is that “hip-hop” felt limiting. We love salsa, Afro-dance, Kizomba, Bachata, and many other styles. We wanted to fuse traditional dance with popular culture as a whole. The consistent element is the Nigerian traditional dance. If you watch closely, you will see parts where I did some funk and locking, and Michael did some locking as well. You will notice we have backgrounds in hip-hop, contemporary dance, and salsa. We tried to chip in various elements of popular culture and then added your culture as well.
“A scene from the ‘Connecting Bridges’ dance performance. Photo: Elevatorz NG”
Michael: And then we added the cida.
Samson: Yes, we brought the cida on stage. We wanted to express that the world is one and that movement is a universal language.
Serhat: Have you been to the here before, and how do you feel here?
Samson: It’s a new era in the Middle East… like the United Arab Emirates…
Michael: I’ll take this one. We haven’t been to this part of the world before—I’m not sure if UAE counts as the same experience—so this feels like our first time. We feel so welcome; the reception has been awesome. We love it. If you asked me to come back, I would come back again and again because it feels like Nigeria. Nigerians are warm people; we treat guests right and make them feel loved. The reception here feels just like that. It is so warm, and we honestly love it here.
The Kurdish question, discussed under the heading of the PKK and leaving its mark on the last 48 years of Turkey, has outlasted numerous presidents, dozens of prime ministers, governments, ministers of interior and foreign affairs, and chiefs of general staff. Throughout this period, spanning from 1978 to February 27, 2025, Abdullah Öcalan has remained the unchanging actor on the other side of this issue.
Photo: Niha+
Despite having a history of over a century, the Kurdish question—debated alongside the PKK’s prominence in the last fifty years of Turkish history—is not merely a chronology of conflict; it serves as a mirror reflecting how the state’s institutional structure and mode of governance have transformed.
Consequently, the recent political history of Turkey, covering this 48-year span, is on one hand the history of the transformation of the Kurdish question—oscillating between “denial,” “annihilation,” “dialogue,” and the “securitarian status quo”—and on the other, a history of statistics showing the turnover of countless governments, presidents, prime ministers, and ministers.
Throughout these 48 years, which the state has characterized in official discourse primarily through the rhetoric of “terrorism” rather than as the Kurdish question, the common point of almost all ministers from various parties has been the emphasis on “fighting until the last terrorist.” From the day the PKK was founded—an event Süleyman Demirel described as the “29th Kurdish Rebellion” and widely viewed as a result of the Kurdish question—until the day it announced its dissolution, the issue was portrayed by the state as “terrorism.” From the military boots of September 12 to today’s cross-border doctrine utilizing UCAVs (SİHAs), there has been a consistent effort to squeeze the Kurdish issue into a parenthesis of “annihilation and public order.”
THE ANKARA RECORD & MEMORY ARCHIVE: 1978 – 2026
Focal & Process Actors
1978 – PresentAbdullah Öcalan
The focal point of the process from Fis to İmralı. In 2025, he issued the historic call for the organization’s dissolution.
1997 – PresentDevlet Bahçeli
Untied the 48-year-old knot in late 2024 with his move: “Let İmralı address the Parliament.”
Presidency and Leadership
2003 – 2026Recep Tayyip Erdoğan
The primary executive who steered the issue from “The Kurdish problem is my problem” to a “Survival issue,” leading to the 2025 finale.
1989 – 1993Turgut Özal
The first civilian move to break the taboo. The first leader to discuss the possibility of dialogue with the PKK at the state level.
1991 – 2000Süleyman Demirel
The state mind who acknowledged the “Kurdish Reality” yet became the architect of OHAL and rigid security-oriented policies.
Security & Responsibility Milestones
1996Mehmet Ağar
The era of “a thousand operations.” Central figure in dark networks and the famous “If I pull one brick, the wall collapses” metaphor.
2016 – 2023Süleyman Soylu
The figure who prioritized security over the ballot box through the trustee regime and the “neutralization beyond borders” doctrine.
2010 – 2026Hakan Fidan
The most critical political mind in back-door diplomacy, overseeing both the peace attempts and operations from Oslo to the present.
* This chart is a summary of political records compiled from NihaPlus’s official archives.
From Fis to September 12: Ankara’s ‘Public Order’ parenthesis
The foundation of one of the most significant periods of the Kurdish issue in modern history was laid on November 27, 1978, with the establishment of the PKK in the village of Fis in Diyarbakır’s Lice district. Abdullah Öcalan and 21 founding members from the structure known as the “Apocular” (Apoists) before 1978 attended this meeting, which is considered the PKK’s first congress. The ideological roots of the PKK are based on the political line Öcalan shaped at Ankara University in the 1970s. Öcalan’s organizational background began in 1974 with the Ankara Democratic Higher Education Association, a Marxist structure.
During this period, Turkey was debating an agenda dominated by economic crises and clashes between right-wing groups and a strong revolutionary structure led by students. At that time, Ankara was in a climate of crisis under the supervision of President Fahri Korutürk, where political will was constantly shaken. The 42nd government led by Bülent Ecevit, followed by the 43rd led by Süleyman Demirel, treated the Kurdish issue as a technical file within the scope of “separatist activities” during their short-lived administrations, just as their predecessors had. Interior Ministers İrfan Özaydınlı and Hasan Fehmi Güneş (Ecevit era) handled the Kurdish people’s search for rights and increasing pressure in the region within the framework of “separatist activity” and “public order issues.” It was not accepted in the “official” agenda of the state or the government that these events were a result of the Kurdish question.
In 1979, when activity on the Urfa-Siverek line caught the attention of the security bureaucracy, the Interior Ministry in Demirel’s cabinet was held by Mustafa Gülcügil, while the Foreign Ministry was held by Gündüz Ökçün and later Hayrettin Erkmen. During this period, an intense conflict broke out between the PKK and certain tribes in the region associated with political powers in Ankara. The “Apocular,” as they were known then, began to appear in newspaper headlines daily and became the primary agenda item for civil and military administrators.
The political spectrum was alternating between Ecevit and Demirel governments. At the very center of this political circulation, every moment civilian politics failed to produce solutions, the space for military tutelage—represented by Chief of General Staff Kenan Evren—expanded further. While Ankara’s actors presented the matter as “marginal groups associated with the dissolution of feudalism,” democratic channels were rapidly closing, and Turkey was drifting toward the darkness of September 12—a period that would be etched into memory with grave rights violations like those at Diyarbakır Prison No. 5. As this half-century parenthesis opened and actors in Ankara changed, the dimensions of the problem and the official approach deepened.
The 1980s: Coup, denial, and the Atrocity of Diyarbakır No. 5
The military coup of September 12, 1980, represents more than a breaking point in Turkey’s political history; it is a dark milestone where the Kurdish question was completely severed from the ground of democratic solutions. The administration of General Kenan Evren, who took over the junta leadership, positioned Kurdish identity not just as a “public order” issue, but as a direct “political threat” to the survival of the state. This period turned into a systematic process of oppression where the most fundamental human rights of Kurds were suspended, the mother tongue was banned, and identity demands were put through severe torture racks.
During these years when democratic politics were liquidated, Prime Minister Bülend Ulusu and Interior Minister Selahattin Demircioğlu took their places in history as the executive figures of this oppressive regime built by military tutelage. In this phase, where Kurds were redefined as “Mountain Turks” in the state’s core memory, the bureaucracy under Ulusu and Demircioğlu attempted to justify rights violations on the ground as “state discipline.” However, every repressive practice implemented by these administrations only deepened the problem.
The real center of tragedy during this period was the Diyarbakır No. 5 Military Prison, which functioned not just as a prison but as a “radicalization laboratory.” While the inhuman tortures carried out under the orders of Kenan Evren and the junta administration left indelible marks on the memory of the Kurdish political movement, Ankara’s actors reported this brutality under the heading of “discipline.” İlter Türkmen held the Foreign Ministry seat, and the coup administration sought “understanding for the coup” from the international community. The efforts of the coup administration, both inside and outside Turkey, served to transform denial into a constitutional text (the 1982 Constitution) rather than solving the problem.
Throughout the 1980s, the names passing through these seats signed off on decisions banning Kurdish identity, thereby preparing not for a solution, but for the most violent phase of the conflict (the 1984 Eruh-Şemdinli attacks). The wreckage handed over from Bülend Ulusu to Turgut Özal was not just a public order file, but a reality of a Turkey where millions were uprooted and the sense of democratic belonging was severely damaged. While these “temporary” cadres of Ankara tried to negate identity under the boots of September 12, they took their places in the dusty pages of history as the primary architects of that massive parenthesis that remains unresolved today.
The 1990s: Peak of conflict, OHAL, and evacuated villages
The 1990s constituted the bloodiest period of the Turkey-PKK conflict. This decade was marked by the premierships of Süleyman Demirel and Tansu Çiller, and the term of Doğan Güreş as Chief of General Staff. Within the framework of the State of Emergency (OHAL) applications covering the Kurdish geography, the state resorted to large-scale security operations. During this period, many names passed through the Ministry of Interior, from İsmet Sezgin to Mehmet Ağar and Meral Akşener.
This decade witnessed politicians developing a new concept alongside “security bosses.” The interior ministry seat, handed from İsmet Sezgin to Mehmet Ağar, was now the headquarters for “extra-routine” operations. The evacuation of 3,428 villages and “unsolved” extrajudicial murders showed that Ankara approached the matter with a policy of “annihilation.” Ağar’s famous later words, “If I pull one brick, the wall will collapse,” summarized the state memory of that era.
According to a report prepared by the TBMM (Grand National Assembly of Turkey) in 1998, it was documented that 3,428 villages and hamlets were evacuated and approximately 500,000 people were forcibly displaced. According to some political parties and NGOs, these figures are higher: 4,000 settlements evacuated and nearly 3.5 million citizens forced into internal migration. The Human Rights Association (İHD), in a report submitted to a commission established in the TBMM in 2025, documented that a total of 36,409 people, including 9,454 civilians, lost their lives in the conflict process covering the 1991-2024 period.
One of the most important political ruptures of this picture occurred in 1993. Turgut Özal was in the presidency. On one hand, Özal represented a pragmatic dilemma: he activated traditional public order language and securitarian instruments like village guards by labeling the group as “a handful of bandits,” while on the other, he pushed taboo dialogue channels with an emphasis on “Kurdish reality.” Özal went down in history as one of the rare leaders who did not publicly exclude the possibility of dialogue with the PKK. The PKK declared a ceasefire in March. However, this window closed with Özal’s sudden death in April. Immediately after Özal’s death, on May 24, 1993, 33 unarmed soldiers in civilian clothes were killed on the Bingöl-Elazığ highway. The incident effectively meant the end of the unilateral PKK ceasefire declared up to that date. With Tansu Çiller (50th Government) taking the Prime Ministry, security policy shifted to a harsher line. The wave of “unsolved” murders that began after Çiller’s statement, “We have a list of Kurdish businessmen who help the PKK,” became the dark legacy of the 1990s.
The 2000s: EU Process, “Democratic Opening“ and Oslo Talks
The year 1999 became a multi-layered turning point where the Kurdish issue evolved on both legal and political levels. During the 56th and 57th governments led by Bülent Ecevit, the bringing of Abdullah Öcalan to Turkey slowed the pace of conflicts on the ground but left Ankara’s democratic solution capacity facing a new test. When the trial system established on İmralı Island combined with the pressure created by the EU membership process, Turkey undertook a radical legal transformation, such as the abolition of the death penalty. While Interior Ministers Sadettin Tantan and Rüştü Kazım Yücelen, along with Foreign Minister İsmail Cem, tried to bring the legal framework of the issue closer to international standards, the lifespan of their politics was not yet enough to turn these reforms into a social peace project.
The AKP coming to power in 2002 created a pragmatic curve in the state’s traditional securitarian language. Following President Ahmet Necdet Sezer, Abdullah Gül’s ascent to the Çankaya Mansion initiated a new climate where the term “Kurdish issue” was articulated at the highest level in Ankara. The “Democratic Opening,” which materialized with Gül’s March 2009 statement that “Good things will happen,” was presented as a comprehensive policy package under the coordination of Interior Minister Beşir Atalay. However, this civilian search could not avoid colliding with the ancient tension between the status quo in the state’s core structure and the demands for democratic reform.
During the same period, behind the scenes, a secret diplomatic traffic with KCK executives—which included MIT Undersecretary Hakan Fidan and reached the public as the “Oslo Talks”—documented Ankara’s search for an interlocutor for a solution. While the entry of 34 PKK members through the Habur Border Gate on October 19, 2009, welcomed by tens of thousands of people, revived hopes for social peace, the failure of political actors to ground this process on a constitutional basis deepened the crisis. While the echoes of Habur were still ongoing, the Constitutional Court’s closure of the Democratic Society Party (DTP) in December 2009 meant the blocking of democratic political channels through judicial intervention.
In this ten-year process, names like Hüseyin Kıvrıkoğlu, Hilmi Özkök, Yaşar Büyükanıt, and İlker Başbuğ, who changed in the seat of the Chief of General Staff, along with the interior ministry seat handed from Abdülkadir Aksu to Beşir Atalay, left their places to new ones as “temporary actors” at the end of their terms. Although Ankara tried to expand the field of rights with European Union harmonization laws, every reform step, to the extent it was not crowned with a democratic constitution, was abandoned once again to securitarian reflexes and judicial obstacles.
2013–2015: “Solution Process“ and the Dolmabahçe Agreement
At the beginning of 2013, a new link in state-PKK negotiations began. This time, the process was conducted more transparently: HDP’s İmralı delegation held meetings with Öcalan. On March 21, 2013, Öcalan’s letter was read at the Diyarbakır Newroz. The most concrete output of the process featured Deputy Prime Minister Yalçın Akdoğan and Interior Minister Efkan Ala at the center of the dialogue traffic with the HDP delegation. The Dolmabahçe Agreement, announced on February 28, 2015, was the most concrete threshold in these actors’ search for a solution. However, President Erdoğan’s announcement that he did not recognize the agreement and the shifting political balances after the June 2015 elections brought an end to the policies carried out by these names. As Efkan Ala and Yalçın Akdoğan were gradually moved away from decision-making mechanisms with the end of the solution process, Prime Minister Ahmet Davutoğlu also became part of this circulation by handing his seat to Binali Yıldırım.
Post-2016: Anatomy of the trustee (Kayyım) policy
The State of Emergency (OHAL) declared after 2016 and the change in the system initiated a period where Ankara reinforced its “securitarian” doctrine with new names. Süleyman Soylu, who took the Interior Ministry seat, operated the regulation added to the Municipality Law via Decree-Law (KHK) No. 674, continuing the policy of appointing trustees (kayyım) in place of elected mayors for seven years. During the Soylu era, the tension between the right to democratic representation and the security bureaucracy was managed through judicial and operational processes. After Soylu handed over the duty to Ali Yerlikaya in 2023, Ankara continued cross-border operations with military strategies under the management of Minister of National Defense Hulusi Akar and Chief of General Staff Yaşar Güler.
The registration of the local will in the region in favor of the DEM Party as a result of the 2024 local elections showed that despite the dozens of prime ministers, interior, and foreign ministers who changed over this 48-year process, the issue maintained its ground of social legitimacy. Today, the process under the management of Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan and Interior Minister Ali Yerlikaya constitutes the most current link of that historical parenthesis where actors have changed rapidly since 1978, but solution methods have failed to achieve constitutional status.
2025 and beyond: The “Dissolution” call and the question remaining uncertain
The autumn of 2024 was a turning point where a new political language, diverging from the state’s traditional security policies, was established in Ankara. The move by MHP Chairman Devlet Bahçeli from the parliament podium went down in record as an initiative that moved the ground of interlocution for the decades-long conflict directly to İmralı. Following this declaration of political will, on February 27, 2025, Abdullah Öcalan made an open call to the PKK to end the armed struggle and dissolve the organizational structure. Responding to this call at its 12th Congress held on May 5–7, 2025, the organization announced the decision to terminate activities carried out under the name “PKK” since November 27, 1978.
With the announcement of dissolution, although the matter was moved back to the parliamentary floor, the tension between political will and the state’s institutional memory persisted. The text prepared by the commission established within the Parliament and tasked with reporting the process could not step outside the traditional state language regarding the naming of the solution. The fact that the definition “Kurdish issue” was not included in the report was evaluated by human rights defenders and political subjects as an institutional obstacle to meeting the issue on constitutional grounds. Abdullah Öcalan, in a message published on the first anniversary of the dissolution decision (February 2026), emphasized that the February 27, 2025 call was a declaration that the choice was clearly made in favor of politics.
In this 48-year process stretching from 1978 to 2026, Turkey outlasted many prime ministers and dozens of interior ministers before reaching the final stage under the administration of President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, Interior Minister Ali Yerlikaya, and Foreign Minister Hakan Fidan. This half-century record, where political actors changed rapidly and various discourses—from the promise of “fighting until the last terrorist” to the “call for dissolution in parliament”—were tried, has once again confirmed the transience of names. Today, in the new picture formed after the dissolution of the PKK, Ankara continues to face the reality that the solution lies not just in the change of names and offices, but in that democratic and constitutional transformation of mindset that dozens of governments have postponed.
Written but unimplemented reports
The recent political history of Turkey is also a history of “written but unimplemented” reports. Historian Mehmet Bayrak describes the Kurdish question from the state’s perspective as: “The state mind is a denier and refuser on the official plane, but a confessor and acceptor on the secret plane.” From the public order bulletins of the Ministry of Interior since 1978 to the thousands of pages of minutes from Parliamentary Research Commissions, every document actually offers an anatomy of a non-solution. These reports, prepared by the state’s own institutions, also reveal what has been sacrificed under the heading of “combating terrorism.”
The 1990s were years when the state took to the field not only with weapons but with “extra-routine” structures. The Parliamentary Commission for the Investigation of Unsolved Murders established in 1993 reflected only the tip of the iceberg. The data reached by the commission documented the field equivalent of Mehmet Ağar’s “thousand operations” remark. However, the true symbol of the Ağar era was that famous metaphor describing the web of dark relations within the state: “If I pull one brick, the wall will collapse.” The Ministry of Interior shelved the files investigating structures like JİTEM behind this wall by placing them under the scope of “state secrets.”
According to the report, a large portion of the murders in the region, especially between 1992 and 1994, were committed by “uncontrolled forces within the state.” However, instead of taking action on these reports, the Ministry of Interior shelved the files targeting structures like JİTEM by classifying them as “state secrets.” These reports today still demonstrate the significance of the Saturday Mothers’ search for justice at Galatasaray Square.
Reports prepared in the second half of the 1990s revealed the social cost of the Ministry of Interior’s “secured zone” strategy. Village evacuations, which gained momentum after Turgut Özal’s death, resulted in more than 3,000 settlements being wiped off the map by 1997. According to the TBMM Migration Commission Report (1998), approximately 1 million people were displaced. While the Interior Ministers of the period tried to present this wave of migration as “voluntary,” the reports of NGOs (İHD, MAZLUMDER) recorded for history the burned crops, the shot livestock, and the imposition of “either become a village guard or leave.”
Work carried out under the coordination of Beşir Atalay during the AKP era’s “Democratic Opening” process acknowledged that the problem was not just a public order issue, yet it did not turn into a concrete result. Concepts like “integration,” “cultural rights in the mother tongue,” and “strengthening local governments” appeared in these studies. However, when these concepts collided with the state’s traditional red lines (concerns over the unitary structure), they were replaced by “operational” reports again starting from 2011. The “Wise People Delegation Reports” prepared during the 2013-2015 Solution Process showed that a large part of society was ready for peace, but the “trust” issue could not be overcome.
Post-2016, the content of reports was entirely built upon “justifying the appointment of trustees.” During the Süleyman Soylu era, attempts were made to legalize the trustee regime by defining elected mayors as “logistics support units.” While these studies formed the basis for thousands of pages of indictments, international institutions such as the Council of Europe Congress of Local and Regional Authorities stated in their reports that this situation was a “usurpation of the right to elect and be elected.”
The Foreign Ministry’s defense line
The Ministry of Foreign Affairs was managed by 26 different names during this process. International reports show that 70% of Turkey’s conviction files at the ECtHR consist of “Kurdish issue-oriented rights violations” (right to life, freedom of expression, property rights). In the Hakan Fidan era, diplomacy reports are now built on the “export of the problem beyond borders.” Operation reports regarding northern Iraq and Syria signal a strategic shift that moves the problem from the streets of Ankara to the mountains of Erbil and Sulaymaniyah.
The Statistical memory of the Interior Ministry
In these 48 years, more than 30 different names occupied the interior ministry seat. Statistics show that changes in ministers did not lead to a change in “method.” The 15-year continuous State of Emergency (OHAL) regime from 1987 to 2002 is the most concrete and darkest data of this statistic.
THE ANKARA RECORD: COMPLETE 48-YEAR LIST (1978 – 2026)
Palestinian dance artist Shaden Abu Elasal, whose dance group, Shaden Dance Company, presented a performance titled “Feathers” at the 11th Amed International Theatre Festival, expressed that she was deeply moved by the Kurdish people’s commitment to their culture. Abu Elasal noted that in her works, she does not merely copy reality but generates something new from it.
The theme of this year’s 11th Amed International Theatre Festival, held in Diyarbakır, was set as “Dialogue for Peace.” Led by the Metropolitan City Theatre, which continues its work under the auspices of the municipality, the festival opened with a reception on April 22nd.
During the ten-day festival, which runs until May 2nd, numerous plays and dance performances by theatre troupes from 19 countries will meet the audience. Various panels and workshops related to theatre will also be organized.
Alongside participants from countries such as Sudan, Ukraine, Syria, and the Kurdistan Region, the Shaden Dance Company from Palestine is among the groups and artists attending the festival. The team’s project, “Feathers,” met with the audience on April 25th at the Çand Amed Grand Hall.
The performance was introduced in the promotional bulletin with the following words: “When our consciousness forms, we realize that we do not know how free we truly are or whether we can ever escape the clutches of power. Feathers explores how power shapes our identity, influences our perception of beauty and goodness, and how it can drive a human being from love to hate. In Feathers, four beings come together and intertwine in scenes that reveal the complexity of human interaction and the forces of power shaping their lives. This is embodied in a love story between two beings—one dominant, the other submissive. The submissive being does not realize what they are.”
Dance and music artist Serhat Kural spoke with the founder of the ensemble, Shaden Abu Elasal, for Niha+ about this dance performance, the experience of being a female dancer in Palestine, and the festival itself.
Serhat Kural, Shaden Abu Elasal, Rugeş Kırıcı
Hello Ms. Shaden. Welcome to Amed. Welcome to our International Theatre Festival as a Palestinian choreographer and dancer. First of all, I want to ask: Who is Shaden Abu Al-Assal, and what is the Shaden Dance Company? Could you tell us a bit about yourself?
First, I’m happy to be here and thank you, Serhat, for this interview. I am Shaden Abu Al-Assal. I was born in Nazareth, in the north of Palestine. I finished my degree in Dance at the Academy of Music and Dance in Jerusalem. Then I came back to Nazareth and I started establishing projects and programs around dancing—educational programs. Besides that, I started doing my own creations as an independent choreographer. So, there was one path of education, focusing on dance, ballet, and contemporary dance, and the other line was developing myself as a choreographer. In 2016, I established a dance group for ballet and contemporary dance in Nazareth for ages 14 to 18, and we used dance as a tool for understanding ourselves and understanding the world and our complicated reality. So, besides the technique, we searched the body as a tool for education. In 2019, I established the Shaden Dance Company. After I did many projects as a dancer and created and performed my own dance works, I decided that I would now be only a choreographer and create not on stage, but behind it. I started this in 2019, and there are dancers from Palestine, Palestinian dancers, and also dancers from all over the world.
Could you explain your identity, as a dancer in Palestine and also as a woman? What kind of journey have you had regarding this?
In a society that has been under oppression for many years since the Nakba of 1948, as a third generation of the Nakba, as a Palestinian living in a very “hot” place… it’s a very hard, complicated, and difficult situation. It’s like everyday suffering. So I want to say that the values that I embrace as a woman and as a human being created who I am. I also came from a family that was very active politically and socially. So the meaning of justice, the meaning of equality, and the meaning of respect for humanity were really powerful parts of who I am. Since I was a child, I was asking myself many questions about the world that we are living in, about myself, about what I can do in this situation, and what my influence is. Can I make my voice louder than it is, seeing the suffering of the Palestinians through all these years?
I can understand this very well because our story is more or less the same as Kurdish dancers. When I met you and your group, and when I watched your performance, a part of me was really happy. Another part of me was so sensitive because even when I listened to your panel, you said you created choreography about how power can affect the body. A lot of pieces are also about this, because balance is really changeable and we don’t have to take our decisions for it to be more free. And that’s why I can understand you very, very much. I want to ask about your piece; what did you want to tell us about it? Can you tell us a bit about your project?
Yes, it’s a combination of who I am, how I was created in this reality as a person, and also how I am a revolutionary in my life. Usually, in anything, I look for something different, new, something that is unique. So, in my art, I don’t want to be a victim—not in reality and not in my art. I want to look for this combination of having a message for the world and being an artist that is looking for something new. I don’t want the authority to decide how my art is going to be. So I am very, very sensitive about not wanting to copy reality. I’m taking reality and digging and creating something new. My biggest happiness is when I enter the studio and start searching, and in one moment something is created—something different, something that I haven’t seen before. This astonishment that I have from art makes me feel powerful, and this power makes me survive in this place. I feel my power when I create. I feel my power when I create as I want to create, not as they want me to create. It’s a combination between who I am as a woman and a human being, and who I am as an artist. I hope that you understand me.
Exactly, I understand very much. Do you think you are giving courage to women who live in Palestine as an artist?
I don’t know. I know that I’m giving…
Sorry, I want to open this topic; maybe it can help you. I watched two videos about your pieces. They were so affecting. I saw many women dancers inside, and I think you have many women dancers. You create something and they find an opportunity to do something with you. I have to say you are like a choreographer, but at the same time, a leader as a woman. That’s why I ask this.
I find it hard to talk about it because it’s hard to talk about myself as a leader. I can say that I can affect people around me in a positive way so that they can do something that wasn’t done before. If they have the tools, if they insist, if they believe in themselves and if they work hard, I think that maybe I am an example of that. Because as an Arab woman, I was the first one to study in the Academy of Dance. At that time, the words “contemporary dance” were not common in our society. But I took this step because I wanted to do that. And coming back and creating things there… my performances are not “shows” shaped in a beautiful way. My performance is different; it’s not superficial. And I insist on that. I also succeeded in creating a very good school at a very high level, technically and artistically. So, I think that these students—women that I taught and who dance in this group—maybe, and I hope, see the world differently than how society wanted us to see it. I’m happy that some of them continued dancing and they are finding their own ways now as choreographers. I hope that I had a positive effect on them.
I’m pretty sure you’re going to be an example for these women. I want to talk about your experience in Amed. What do you feel about Amed and about your performance? How did the audience criticize your piece? Could you share a bit of this experience with us?
First of all, the idea of this festival is really powerful and important, both in its panels and performances. Because there is always an attention to shut our mouths. In this festival, they give people who are under oppression the power to stand and to express themselves with all the beauty that this place has. The people are so kind, so generous. I’ve been to many festivals, but being in a festival that a woman is directing… I should say that it’s different. It has its own spirit. I really admire this community, the Kurdish people, for their commitment to their culture and their insistence on expressing themselves through art. They don’t lose their culture. I saw the opening and I said, “Wow.” Yes, I see people here and how connected they are to each other. The position of the woman as mayor is something unique. I think it’s something that I can learn from.
My last question. Deeply, I want to say I have really high respect for the Palestinian community. We are always with you. I know there is a condition that is so difficult. But as I said to you, we are a bit similar. And I hope Palestine is going to be free soon. How do you relate to the audience in Palestine as a contemporary dancer?
I must say, as I said before, that it is new in Nazareth and in the north of Palestine, and also in the West Bank. But people are curious. People come to our performances and they ask questions. Even though sometimes they say, “we don’t understand,” what is good is that we talk to people. There’s a dialogue about it. I must say that the last work, Feathers, because it has a clearer drama and characters, the audience interacts with it more than my previous work, which was more abstract. So I think these kinds of works make the people closer to you. I think sometimes they are afraid of these kinds of performances because they don’t have the tools to analyze them. But when you come to them and you talk and explain, and you say it’s okay, you can take it however you want, people feel comfortable. When they feel comfortable, their imagination works. So I’m happy that we have an audience for this. It is not huge, but there’s an audience that is growing more and more.
Exactly. I understand very much because we are in the same process. We are doing the same way for us to be more understandable for the audience. But another part of us wants to be more abstract. I don’t want to say this is our destiny, but we need a balance to be closer to the audience.
Exactly. And I think it’s so important not to be “above” the audience. Because our work is going on stage, and without this audience, there is no meaning for us. This combination between being loyal to yourself as an artist and staying loyal to your audience… we have to find this balance without giving up our artistic vision.
Hogir Alay and Gökhan Kumak were found hanging from a tree in refugee camps in Germany. Alay and Kumak are just two of the Kurdish refugees who have reportedly committed suicide in German camps in recent years. These two suicides, which occurred in 2023 and 2024, raise questions about the safety of the refugee camps. The families are awaiting justice.
A refugee camp in Germany, Photo: planet-wissen.de
Hogir Alay and Gökhan Kumak are only two of the Kurdish refugees who have lost their lives in refugee camps in Germany in recent years. Hogir went from Mardin to Germany in 2022, and Gökhan went from Şırnak in 2023 to seek asylum. On this journey, which they embarked upon due to political pressure or the goal of building a better life, they spent a long time trying to reach Germany illegally. At the end of this period, they experienced difficult days in the camps they arrived at. After a while, their bodies were found hanging from trees inside the refugee camps. Alay’s body was found 24 days later in a wooded area within the garden of the camp where he stayed.
German authorities announced that both Alay and Kumak had committed suicide. However, according to their families, there was no reason for their children to take their own lives. Despite the time that has passed, they want the causes of their children’s deaths to be investigated. They claim there was negligence on the part of relevant institutions and individuals in Germany.
Why are refugees committing suicide in Germany?
According to data reflected in the press and public opinion, dozens of Kurdish refugees have ended their lives in Germany since 2023. 17-year-old Mustafa Baki from Kobanî, Mehvan Muhammed Süleyman from Duhok, 28-year-old Fethullah Aslan in a psychiatric institution in Berlin, and Mustafa Polat in Erfurt are just a few names on this list.
According to data from the refugee counseling center Pena-Ger, 32 suicide attempts occurred in the state of Saxony in 2024 alone. However, according to Pena-Ger, the real figures are much higher, as ethnic origin records are not kept and many cases go ‘undocumented.’
Between 1993 and 2018, 288 suicide cases were documented in refugee camps in Germany. Today, it is recorded that there are approximately 30 suicides and 400 attempts per year.
Hanging, jumping from heights, or overdosing
Refugees most often commit suicide in or around the camps where they stay, while their asylum process is ongoing or under the threat of deportation. This most frequently occurs in the form of hanging oneself from a tree, jumping from a height, or overdosing. It was announced that Gökhan Kumak and Hogir Alay also committed suicide by hanging themselves.
Hogir Alay’s body was found 24 days later
Hogir Alay lost his life on October 11, 2023. His body was found on November 4 by someone else staying at the AfA-Kusel refugee camp where he resided. In other words, Alay’s body emerged 24 days later. As stated in the investigation file, the location where the body was found was the wooded area right behind the gym inside the camp.
On October 11, Alay called his father several times, as well as his brother and his brother’s wife, but could not reach them. After this attempt, which took place around 18:00 on the same day, his family could never reach Hogir’s phone again.
Screen recordings showing Şiyar Alay’s correspondence with authorities via email
According to the family’s claim, during the following days when they could not hear from their child, they wrote an email to the refugee camp where Hogir stayed through their other child, Şiyar Alay, who is a refugee in Austria. In the official email written in response to Şiyar Alay dated October 25, it was explicitly stated that the police could not establish any contact with Hogir and that attempts made through Social Services (Sozialdienst) had been inconclusive.
In the file prepared regarding Alay’s death, according to the security guards of the camp, Alay’s last entry-exit record via ID card scan was made on October 11, 2023, at 16:27. It is stated that he entered the facility at that hour. It is noted that on October 17, 2023, he was reported missing because he could not be found in the accommodation facility during patrols.
Official Investigation Document of the Kaiserslautern Police Department
Alay’s brother Rêber Alay told Niha+: “On November 4, news came to us from the camp. They saw him and said he had lost his life. They realized it was him because he had an AK-47 tattoo on his chest. He had a tattoo on his chest.” In the investigation and autopsy reports, it is stated that because the body had remained outside for a long time, it had become unrecognizable, his identity could not be determined, and identification was only possible with the tattoo on his chest. The news of Hogir Alay’s death was officially conveyed to Turkey’s Consulate General in Mainz by the police on November 6, 2023, at 11:52.
Hogir Alay before going to Germany as a refugee
Rêber Alay rebels against this situation: “His feet are touching the ground. There are photos. Also, his body is very battered. Decayed. He must have been hanging for 24 days. If he is in the camp and in a visible place, how could this child have been hanging for 24 days? Thousands of people stay in 그 camp. During this time, camp authorities did not ask if this child was missing. They notified the police after it became clear he was dead. Something striking is that they say everyone who died hanged themselves. Don’t people who commit suicide try another method? This is a question mark. They are all diagnosed as dying from heart failure. It was said that Hogir died the same way. It was written that Hogir drank a lot, and there was two per mille alcohol in his blood. It is claimed that Hogir actually fainted before hanging himself, and died not from suffocation but from heart failure.”
Hogir Alay while at the refugee camp in Germany
He went through illegal routes
Hogir Alay went from Mardin to Germany through illegal routes a year and a half before he died, in 2022. According to his family’s account, while Hogir was in Mardin, he participated in protests for Kobanî and was investigated for this. In the face of both this investigation and the difficulties he experienced due to refusing mandatory military service, he decided to go to Germany with his wife. It is claimed that before his death, Hogir repeatedly complained about poor living conditions, discrimination, and violence perpetrated by security personnel and social workers, but these complaints were not forwarded to the relevant authorities.
Investigation document showing Hogir Alay’s official date of death
His brother Rêber Alay confirmed that his brother had problems with camp authorities: “One day, in front of everyone, Hogir says, ‘if I am killed here, either they killed me or I will kill the security guard.’ They couldn’t get along.” In the report prepared by the Hogir Alay Initiative, which was established to continue the search for justice after Hogir Alay’s death, it is stated that Alay complained about constant room changes and psychological pressure during his stay at the camp. It is alleged that security personnel subjected him to systematic harassment and physical attacks.
Last location information taken from Hogir Alay’s phone
Complaints were not forwarded on the grounds of “protecting the institution’s reputation”
The claim that Alay wanted to convey these complaints to the management unit, but the translators at the camp refused to translate these statements on the grounds of “protecting the reputation of the institution,” is included in the file. In the investigation file, criminal records regarding Hogir Alay’s past and turmoils in his private life have been added by the authorities as ‘psychological factors triggering suicide.’ However, according to refugee rights defenders and the family, the personal crises an individual is in do not alleviate the camp management’s responsibility to ‘protect the right to life’; on the contrary, it increases the obligation of supervision and protection toward an individual at risk.
The case is closed quickly in Germany
It is understood from the information reflected in the investigation file that an autopsy of Hogir Alay was performed in Germany. The autopsy was conducted on November 9, 2023, at the Institute of Forensic Medicine at Saarland University in Homburg. Regarding the family’s claims that an autopsy was not performed, the Kaiserslautern Chief Public Prosecutor stated in a 2025 letter that this claim does not reflect the truth, emphasizing that comprehensive autopsy and toxicology reports are available in the file.
Despite this, the family demands an autopsy in Turkey as well: “After he came to Turkey, we didn’t think of anything at first. Then after thinking a bit, we took him out of the ground. We had an autopsy done. According to the autopsy, it is said his front teeth had fallen out. One of his bones was broken, his heart and some of his organs were decomposed, some were missing. It is said the higher board of the Forensic Medicine Institute in Turkey will give the final result. A year and a half later, after the autopsy, Germany sent its own autopsy to the prosecutor here. What do the authorities here say now? We will put Germany’s and our own autopsy side by side. Let’s see what comes out. In the end, they also made their own autopsy reports like the one in Germany. Now they also say Hogir hanged himself,” says Rêber Alay.
From the preliminary autopsy report of the Istanbul Forensic Medicine Institute regarding Hogir Alay
His father Abdülvahap Alay filed a criminal complaint with German institutions through the Kızıltepe Chief Public Prosecutor’s Office. In the complaint, he claims that there was no possibility of their child committing suicide and that he might have been a victim of murder. Despite this application, the Zweibrücken Chief Public Prosecutor’s Office stated that Hogir took his own life, claiming that he did not commit suicide under the influence of someone else, but due to his internal problems. Furthermore, it noted that there was no information or findings regarding the possibility of him being killed by others and closed the investigation it conducted on the grounds that no criminal situation was detected.
In the investigation file in question, it is stated that no direct connection could be established between Alay’s past frictions with security personnel and the death event. The German prosecutor’s office points to the fact that Hogir Alay personally declared in his statement dated August 4, 2023, that he had “made peace with the security personnel” as evidence that conflicts within the camp had no link to the suicide decision. According to the information provided by Rêber Alay, some of his brother’s personal belongings and phone have not yet been delivered to them. The investigation opened in Turkey continues.
Kumak: They will kill me
Gökhan Kumak, like Hogir Alay, committed suicide in the camp where he lived in Germany. Kumak went to Germany through illegal routes in January 2023. He was 34 years old. He was a long-haul truck driver. He used to carry cargo to and from Iran and Iraq. According to his family’s account, he decided to go to Germany saying, “I don’t have a profession, I can’t see a future, let me go to Germany, maybe I’ll get residency and build a good life for myself.” After staying in the first camp where refugees are accepted for the first 8 months, Kumak was sent to a camp called a heim where he would stay permanently. Kumak, who stayed here for 6 months, constantly called his family during this time, claiming that he would be killed. The family states that their child’s psychology deteriorated greatly due to this situation. His brother Eser Kumak told Niha+: “Before he died, he called my father. He says, ‘I’m afraid the German police will bring trouble upon me. They will kill me, they will burn me.’ Something happened to him in the heim, I don’t know that. He suffered a lot in the camp. He said the German police set Afghans upon him.”
Before losing his life, Gökhan calls his father and says that they have ruined his psychology, that it is a very serious matter, and asks them to save him.
Gökhan lost his life on April 2, 2024.
However, his family was informed on April 9: “One day we couldn’t get news. He had a friend. I called him, I told him we couldn’t reach my brother. I said, don’t you see Gökhan? He said, ‘don’t call me,’ he said, ‘I don’t know where Gökhan is.’ There was someone else next to him. He said, his voice came to me, ‘tell them the police came and took Gökhan and Gökhan died.’ The other kid said, ‘don’t involve me, don’t involve me, don’t call me,’ and after day he blocked me. He was an Afghan boy. But he was using a number from Turkey.”
Gökhan Kumak
Eser Kumak stated that official authorities from Germany did not reach them. Gökhan Kumak’s body, like Hogir Alay’s body, was seen hanging from a tree in the forest. It was sent to Turkey on April 14, 2024. In the autopsy performed, it was written that he had a heart attack. However, the family does not believe this finding. Eser Kumak states that due to the heavy situation they experienced, they could not think to request an autopsy in Turkey as well. The family provided the information that no investigation has been opened in Turkey regarding Gökhan Kumak.
Someone from Germany calls the family: Don’t go to the ECHR On April 18, 2026, someone who identified herself as Ute Classen and stated she was a social service official in the city of Bad Wildungen sent voice messages to the family via WhatsApp from Germany. In the voice recording sent in German, the person states that Gökhan had psychological problems, that everyone tried to help him, but he committed suicide nonetheless. The voice recording also says, “I would not recommend you to apply to the European Court, because here in Bad Wildungen, nothing happened to justify this.”
Gökhan Kumak
Pena-Ger: Suicide attempts of refugees are not being recorded
Pena-Ger is a non-profit non-governmental organization providing online counseling services for refugees throughout Germany. Dealing with the files of Gökhan Kumak and Hogir Alay, the organization is preparing to restart the legal process for both files. According to Pena-Ger, a series of death cases occurring among Kurdish refugees in Germany in recent years, which are mostly evaluated as suicides, are known. However, according to the organization, there is no precise statistical record specific to this group, and they argue that this lack of data points to a more fundamental problem: that suicides or suicide attempts among refugees in general are not systematically recorded in Germany.
According to DRK Rheinland-Pfalz, which operates as part of the Red Cross in the German state of Rhineland-Palatinate, a large portion of these cases remain invisible because they are not recognized or documented as a result of structural problems. This invisibility leads political decision-makers to not take the need for adequate psychosocial support for refugees seriously enough, and this situation leads to serious consequences. The organization states that despite this, structural patterns are identified through individual cases and media and civil society reports.
“Problems of Kurdish refugees remain invisible”
Pena-Ger draws attention to another point: neither the German Federal Statistical Office nor the Federal Office for Migration and Refugees makes a distinction based on ethnic origin. Therefore, the specific problems experienced by Kurdish refugees in particular remain statistically invisible. Especially collective accommodation centers, deportation detention, and similar restrictive conditions negatively affect psychological health. Isolation, lack of privacy, and constant fear of deportation deepen existing crises and increase suicidal thoughts. At the same time, the psychological problems of refugees are frequently distorted in the public eye through a security perspective.
Pena-Ger believes the causes of the suicide cases and attempts are structural. In addition to inadequate psychological support, the failure to forward complaints, insufficient protection mechanisms, and staff shortages, it is stated that living conditions within the acceptance system lead to re-traumatization. Long asylum processes, collective housing, lack of privacy, and constant uncertainty deepen existing traumas. The legal situation regarding access to health services is also thought to be a critical factor. It is stated that the Asylbewerberleistungsgesetz (AsylbLG) seriously restricts access to psychotherapy in particular. In the first 36 months, only acute illnesses are treated. This leads to many refugees being unable to access the necessary treatment.
Beybûn Şeker from Pena-Ger states that as an institution, they try to offer active support: “Every day we encounter people who experience suicidal thoughts or live in deep despair without support. In Germany, the mental health of refugees usually comes to the agenda for a short time only after sensational events. Millions of refugees are portrayed as threats by being generalized, but this is not the solution.”
