Emami and Talebi stated that the “Iran War,” which has temporarily subsided with a two-week ceasefire, has deepened the fault lines within Iranian society, and that what is currently visible is not “promising.”
On February 28, the US and Israel began attacking Iran. As of April 8, a two-week ceasefire has been declared. But people are still debating the war’s effects and what comes next. We spoke with sociologist Dr. Mehrdad Emami and Iranian journalist Reza Talebi about what’s happening inside Iran and how it’s affecting ordinary people.
Dr. Emami pointed out that before the war, millions of Iranians were protesting side by side against the government. These protests, led mostly by middle and working class people, were strong enough that some called it a near-revolutionary moment. “In many central areas, Iranians were protesting hard, demanding the government be brought down. The state responded with a massacre,” he said.
He also noted that in the December-January protests, a royalist movement (Pahlavism, supporters of the old Shah monarchy) had a growing influence. Many satellite TV channels broadcasting from outside Iran are pro-Pahlavi and backed by the West. Emami said it was predictable that after the Mahsa Amini protests, this far-right nationalist movement would become more organized than leftist or pro-freedom groups. He also blamed the left and feminists for failing to produce a strong leading figure after the Amini protests.
Pahlavism is making divisions worse
Emami noted that according to official figures, over 3,000 people have been killed in the war so far, as a massive trauma for society. He argued that the Pahlavi movement is deepening existing splits:
“Iranian nationalists who spent years calling leftists and feminists traitors are now supporting the continuation of the war alongside the US and Israel. And even though millions of Iranians oppose the current government, being bombed every day pushes people toward wanting peace, not regime change. When your home is damaged and your life is at risk, the most urgent thing becomes stopping the war.”
He also noted a shift among minority communities (Kurds, Baluch, Arabs and others) who have historically been oppressed both under the Shah and under the Islamic Republic.
“These regions were actually at the center of the most recent uprisings, partly because they are resource-rich but their people remain poor. Yet in the December–January protests, turnout in these regions was low, which drew criticism from the nationalist groups leading those protests. As the result, groups that had been coming together in recent movements are now more fragmented than before.”
“Don’t underestimate political Islam”
Emami warned against dismissing political Islam in Iran:
“The left lost the 1979 revolution partly for this reason,” he said. He pointed to the Iran-Iraq war, which lasted 8 years, longer than expected, because the Iranian state at that time was young and still seen as somewhat legitimate, both at home and internationally. The world hadn’t yet seen its true nature.”
He also said that even some pro-war Pahlavi supporters are now split, because Iranians can see that the US is killing civilians and bombing Iran’s infrastructure. “Over time it has become clear that the US main goal is to weaken Iran’s oil, nuclear, and military capabilities, not to liberate its people” he said.
“This war is being fought more in the media than on the ground”
Journalist Reza Talebi said it’s sad that Iranians are stuck between two bad options for information: Iran’s official state media, which can’t go beyond slogans and denial, and international media driven mainly by profit. He added that print journalism in Iran is barely surviving, and most people are now entirely dependent on social media.
“Tension levels are high”
Talebi also spoke about the situation of Kurds and other minority communities living in Iran, and what might happen next:
“I don’t have a full picture of everything being discussed about Kurds, Turks, Arabs, and Baluch people in Iran, but the social and ethnic divisions are nothing new, and they aren’t just caused by the war.
These divisions do get deeper in wartime, of course, and they can lead to new conflicts. Tension levels are high. On top of the divisions between Kurds, Turks, Arabs, and Baluch, there are also splits between religious and secular people, and even if these cracks aren’t fully visible right now, they are very dangerous. If things aren’t handled carefully, situations similar to Syria or Afghanistan are possible.
I can’t see a clear future for Iran, and I also can’t pretend to be an expert on everything. I could be wrong but what I see doesn’t look hopeful. Iranian society is fragile and unpredictable. Maybe shared suffering can create some kind of balance.”
Despite snowy weather, villagers in Kargapazar (in Bingöl province, eastern Turkey) held a protest against a planned Geothermal Power Plant (GPP) project. They carried a banner reading “No to Geothermal.”
A US-based company called Ignis H2 Energy wants to build a geothermal power plant (GPP) in the Karlıova district of Bingöl. The project would affect 6 villages in the area. The problem is it would be built on an active earthquake fault line, just like a similar project the same company is pushing in nearby Varto.
Despite the snowfall, the people of Kargapazar village held their protests against the geothermal energy project on April 10th.
During the demonstration held in front of the Social Aid and Solidarity Association, a banner with “No to Geothermal Energy” was displayed.
Mehmet Ali Harmancı, a member of the Kargapazar Ecology Platform, stated that the project would negatively impact their living areas and the pastures used for agriculture and livestock. Harmancı emphasized that this project is directly related to expansionist and imperialist policies and institutions, explaining that natural resources are being targeted because of these policies.
Earthquake risk threatens thousands of lives
Following Harmancı’s statement, Kasım Demiralp, a member of the Kargapazar Ecology Platform, read a press release, stating that the GPP project was being carried out disregarding scientific facts:
“The geography we live in is a region with active fault lines and a high risk of earthquakes. Despite this sensitive structure, the desire to drill dozens of geothermal wells seriously endangers not only nature but also human lives. These projects, carried out by ignoring scientific facts, could lead to irreversible consequences.”
Demiralp also pointed out that drilling and injection operations carried out on fault lines pose an earthquake risk and threaten the living spaces of thousands of people.
“Our right to a healthy life cannot be disregarded for the sake of any self-interest.”
The statement also emphasized that the GPP project would pollute underground water resources, render agricultural areas unproductive, and negatively impact livestock farming and the ecosystem.
Demiralp emphasized that Article 56 of the Constitution, which states “Everyone has the right to live in a healthy and balanced environment,” cannot be disregarded for the sake of any project, company, or interest.
Their demand was to stop the geothermal projects immediately. “Nothing should proceed without the consent of local people” said Demiralp.
Mazlum Özdemir, one of the coordinators of Kurdish Monitoring, divides demands regarding the Kurdish language under two heading directed at the state and at Kurdish society: “Demands directed at the state can quite clearly be formulated as the removal of all legal and practical barriers placed before the Kurdish language in the public sphere.”
*Kurdish Language Day event in Şırnak / Photo: Yeni Yaşam Newspaper
Mazlum Özdemir, one of the coordinators of the Kurdish Monitoring platform, which is established in 2024 to track bans and restrictions on the use of Kurdish in the public sphere, spoke about the assimilation policies that have persisted in Turkey since the founding of the Republic, as well as the initiative’s goals. Özdemir said that the state structure shaped around Turkish national identity has systematically disregarded Kurds and the Kurdish language, and that they therefore view all violations as a serious matter that must be documented.
Kurdish Monitoring, launched in 2024 by a group of journalists, records the pressures exerted against the Kurdish language. Noting that the assimilation policy applied since the founding of the Republic has targeted Kurds, Özdemir says: “In order to institutionalize the Republic of Turkey’s structure, which was built upon the Turkish ethnic nation, all other ethnic, religious, and cultural identities were disregarded, subjected to assimilation, and exposed to massacre. Kurds and the Kurdish language received their share of this as well.” In this context, Özdemir recalls that the Law on the Maintenance of Order and other laws enacted during the Republican era denied the very existence of Kurds and banned Kurdish from the public sphere, adding: “The aim was to assimilate and eliminate Kurdish, just like all other languages spoken on these lands.”
This policy effectively continues to this day
Mazlum Özdemir emphasizes that despite some legal adjustments made after the 1990s, the use of Kurdish remains banned: “Starting from the 1990s, certain legal regulations were made and some of the barriers before Kurdish were lifted — but both legally and in physical, practical terms, the use of Kurdish in Turkey is banned. People are attacked and killed for speaking Kurdish in the street. Artists and attendees are detained and arrested for singing Kurdish songs at weddings. Kurdish-language concerts are banned by governors or mayors. The ‘right of mothers to speak Kurdish with their children in prison,’ which President Erdoğan has repeatedly claimed to have lifted and boasted about, is still banned. Kurdish publications cannot enter prisons; books written in Kurdish are blocked by prison administrations and cannot be sent outside.”
We aimed to make systematic repression visible
Describing how the initiative came about, Özdemir says: “We want the barriers to the use of Kurdish in Turkey to become visible, and to show that a systematic policy of obstruction is being applied.” He notes that while this situation is known to the public, it is often forgotten amid the intensity of the daily news agenda: “In the chaos of the day, these things often remain as stories we read and move past. Yet this is a serious violation against a language, and they need to be brought together in a systematic way — because the obstruction itself is systematic. It is not isolated or sporadic. These barriers and bans arise as the result of a policy and an ideological approach.”
Stating that they currently share their reports with the public and the media, Özdemir adds that they will also share them with national and international institutions: “The issue has an international dimension as much as a national one. Turkey is a country that has for years sought to become a member of the European Union and has undertaken certain efforts toward that goal. It is important to present, in the form of systematic reports, how a country seeking membership in the Union approaches human rights and language rights.”
Mazlum Özdemir emphasizes that they collect their data entirely from open sources: “News published in conventional media and social media, along with statements and reports released by civil society organizations, make up our sources.” However, he adds that the pressures faced by the Kurdish language are far greater than what appears in these outlets: “We also know from our daily experience that the reactions shown to people speaking Kurdish among themselves on the street or on the phone, or speaking Kurdish at school, at the grocery store, or at the hospital, are very rarely reflected anywhere. There are barriers and pressures that arise from covert racism.” Despite this, Özdemir notes that their physical and technical infrastructure remains limited, saying they currently document violations under only four main headings: “We report violations in the areas of media, prisons, public space, and culture and arts.”
The state spread assimilation through all public instruments
Describing the tools of assimilation policy, Özdemir argues that the state denied the Kurdish language through schools, media, and academia. “The Republic’s assimilation policy was shaped around the premise that Kurdish did not exist — and when that could no longer be sustained, around the premise that it was not a language. Once that became the policy, its instruments had to be set in motion. Schools became an important tool for banning Kurdish from the public sphere. Media emerges as another instrument. And these have now merged with today’s digital technology,” he says.
He goes on to describe how this process operated:
“Schools, media, academia, and all other instruments spent years propagandizing this and putting this policy into practice. Kurdish was prevented from becoming a language of education; children who spoke Kurdish at home were unable to speak it at school, and when they did, they faced systematic pressure from teachers. Teachers would assign one student among their peers the task of finding out whether children were speaking Kurdish at home — and when that student heard or saw children speaking Kurdish at home, they would report it to the teacher, causing those other children to be punished and beaten.”
Özdemir notes that this mechanism of repression was also sustained through the media: “Universities and the publications they produced spent years propagandizing that Kurds do not exist and that Kurdish is not a language. The media was used as a platform through which these policies were reproduced and disseminated.”
The warning of ‘self-assimilation’
According to Özdemir, despite all these pressures, Kurdish resisted assimilation for many years. However, he says that in recent times the concept of “self-assimilation” has also entered the conversation. “Particularly over the last 20 years, Kurds have begun using the concept of self-assimilation almost as much as assimilation itself,” he says. He explains the reason as follows: “For many years, Kurdish put up serious resistance to assimilation. Yet, particularly over the last 20 years — though it existed before as well — Kurds have begun using the concept of self-assimilation almost as frequently as assimilation. Because for some time now, certain voices have been suggesting that assimilation has been ‘successful,’ and it is acknowledged that self-assimilation is also being observed on a significant scale.”
Noting that even in villages, parents speaking Turkish with their children illustrates the extent of self-assimilation, Özdemir says: “When there is no Kurdish-language education in schools, when Kurdish television and digital media are banned and blocked, and when extra effort is made to ensure Turkish-language media reaches everywhere in response — it should come as no surprise that such an outcome would follow.”
Demands: To the state and to society
Mazlum Özdemir groups the demands regarding the Kurdish language under two headings: those directed at the state and those directed at Kurdish society. He lists the responsibilities that fall to the state as follows:
“Demands directed at the state can quite clearly be formulated as the removal of all legal and practical barriers placed before the Kurdish language in the public sphere. That is: Kurdish must become a language of education and be present at all levels of schooling; official space must be opened for Kurdish in all public institutions and organizations; barriers before Kurdish-language media must be eliminated; and the obstruction of cultural and artistic activities must come to an end. In short, all barriers must be removed and active encouragement must be provided so that Kurdish is officially recognized, becomes widespread, and can be learned and taught.”
He also draws attention to the responsibilities of Kurdish society and politics: “In parallel with these steps, Kurds themselves must use Kurdish in every area of their daily and public lives and resist assimilation as they have in the past. As for Kurdish politics — beyond reminding the state of its duties and responsibilities on this matter, it must also be criticized for not using Kurdish more within its own internal mechanisms, and public pressure must be built to push it toward taking steps in that direction. Because while the state bears responsibility for assimilation, Kurdish society and the political movement bear responsibility for self-assimilation.”
“This is probably the first time that the France Foreign Ministry communicated with a shareholder who fired a journalist in order to please a good client,” said Čubrilo-Filipović, the journalist dismissed by Le Figaro.
Milica Čubrilo-Filipović, Photo: The Association of Independent Electronic Media (ANEM)
Journalist Milica Čubrilo-Filipović was dismissed earlier this year from the France-based Le Figaro, where she had worked for eight years.
In an interview with the Serbian publication Vreme, Čubrilo-Filipović stated that her dismissal was triggered by Frédéric Mondoloni, the Political Director of the France Ministry of Foreign Affairs, who informed a shareholder of Dassault—the company that owns Le Figaro—that they had a “politically active” correspondent in Belgrade.
According to a report by N1, Čubrilo-Filipović claimed to have received written confirmation of these statements from her editor [the World section editor], adding that what was written there had also been verbally communicated to her by the deputy director of the newsroom. Čubrilo-Filipović further noted that the trade union supported her stance and that her case sets a precedent.
In her remarks to N1, Čubrilo-Filipović also shared: “A few years ago, I asked my colleagues how free they were regarding their reporting. They told me there were certain limits. One of these was that the government should not be criticized in countries where Rafale fighter jets are sold.”
The Dassault Group also operates in the aerospace and defense sector (Dassault Aviation). Furthermore, in 2024, the Serbian government signed an official contract to purchase Rafale fighter jets manufactured by Dassault Aviation.
In his statement to N1 regarding the allegations of Čubrilo-Filipović’s dismissal, Philippe Gélie, Deputy Managing Editor of Le Figaro, said in summary:
“I understand that she accuses us of trampling on press freedom and presents herself as a victim of this alleged behaviour. We asked Ms. Čubrilo, and not for the first time, to respect our standards of journalistic quality, in order to limit the amount of editing and rewriting required for her work. We also asked her to refrain from political activism, which violates the obligation of journalistic neutrality and could affect the reputation of Le Figaro.”
While journalism organizations such as the Serbia-based ANEM (Association of Independent Electronic Media), NUNS (Independent Journalists’ Association of Serbia), and the SJN (SafeJournalists Network) have drawn attention to Čubrilo-Filipović’s dismissal, no statements regarding the issue have been seen from other professional journalism bodies, most notably the France-based RSF (Reporters Without Borders).
Who is Milica Čubrilo-Filipović?
Born in Carthage, Tunisia, in 1969, Milica Čubrilo-Filipović is a Serbian former diplomat and journalist. She earned her undergraduate degree in law from Panthéon-Assas University in France in 1992, followed by a master’s degree in anthropology from the Sorbonne University in 1993.
Čubrilo-Filipović served as Le Figaro’s Balkans correspondent from 2000 to 2003. Between 2003 and 2006, she worked as the Director of the National Tourism Organisation of Serbia. She held the position of Serbia’s Minister of Diaspora in 2007-2008 and later served as the Serbian Ambassador to Tunisia from 2010 to 2013. Stepping away from politics in 2014, she returned to Le Figaro in 2018, where she worked until January 2026.
“The student protests marked the first point of disagreement”
Niha+ reached out to Milica Čubrilo-Filipović to ask about the allegations she raised and the events surrounding her dismissal. Noting that she was told her “political past” was the reason for her termination, Čubrilo-Filipović stated that this was merely an excuse for Le Figaro.
Čubrilo-Filipović stated, “My political background is just an excuse for them. They knew very well that I had posts in the government during the post-Milošević period, a time when many in the diaspora returned to help the country. It was Figaro itself that asked me to come back in 2018. I had already worked with them from 2000 to 2003. Since 2018, there had never been any conflict regarding my past. The disagreements began with the outbreak of tremendous protests in Serbia led by students.”
Noting that her first disagreement with Le Figaro’s management dates back to when students cycled to Strasbourg, home to the Council of Europe, to protest the Vučić government, Čubrilo-Filipović said: “The editor-in-chief changed the word ‘students’ in my article to ‘demonstrators,’ claiming I had too much ‘empathy’ for the students. Just like that, the whole point was gone. We had our second and final disagreement over an article I wrote about the Serbs in Kosovo, where I insisted that they were caught in the crossfire. On one side was Albin Kurti, who is in the process of creating an Albanian-centric Kosovo; on the other was the Belgrade-controlled, corrupt, and criminal Srpska Lista.”
Claim: “The request came from the France Foreign Ministry“
Čubrilo-Filipović, pointing out French President Emmanuel Macron’s support for Serbian President Aleksandar Vučić, continued:
“It must be underlined that Macron has shown immense support for Vučić in recent years, and especially over the past year. Macron was one of the few European Union heads of state (alongside Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán) to invite Vučić to his country while the wave of protests in Serbia was ongoing.”
Macron and Vučić, Photo: a2 News
Milica Čubrilo-Filipović stated that press freedom in France is becoming increasingly limited. She noted that the situation she experienced is unprecedented:
“Press freedom in France is becoming increasingly limited. This is probably the first time where the France Foreign Ministry (following a possible intervention from Belgrade) communicated with a shareholder and the latest fired a journalist in order to please a good client. This is a doubly scandalous ignorance of media independence.”
Additionally, Čubrilo-Filipović points out that she has never written about the Rafale fighter jets purchased by Serbia.
“The regime in Serbia is attempting to silence independent voices“
Noting that press freedom is also being restricted in Serbia, Čubrilo-Filipović said that the government is attempting to shut down several independent media outlets:
“Press freedom in Serbia is becoming worse day by day. The regime is doing its best to silence every independent voice. Another example of this is their negotiations with United Media, an international corporation, and their attempts to shut down the only remaining independent media outlets. Namely the N1 and Nova television stations, as well as the Radar, Nova, and Danas newspapers.
This situation reminds me of the Milošević era, when the international press was expelled from the country and journalists were no longer granted visas. Back to the 90s… Furthermore, on 29 March, many journalists covering the local elections were beaten up right before the eyes of the police.”
France-Serbia trade is expanding
Photo: South China Morning Post
Čubrilo-Filipović also addressed the trade relations and investments between France and Serbia. Noting that the initial payments for the purchased fighter jets were made last December, she continued:
“The French government and Dassault are more than happy to continue doing business with the Serbian government, regardless of the regime. The initial payment for the 12 Rafale fighter jets, which the country absolutely does not need, was made to Dassault last December.
The total value of this deal, signed in August 2024, is 2,7 billion euros. Meanwhile, French companies continue to sign new contracts in Serbia. We can point to companies like Alstom, Egis, Vinci, and Veolia in railway and metro projects for example.”
In 2018, Vinci took over the operations and modernization rights of the Belgrade Nikola Tesla Airport under a 25-year concession. The total value of the investment was announced as €1.46 billion.
Veolia, alongside Japan’s Itochu and the Marguerite Fund, is spearheading a project to close Belgrade’s Vinča landfill and replace it with a modern waste-to-energy facility.
Meanwhile, Egis and Alstom are bringing the planned Belgrade metro project to life. Backed by funding from the French government, the massive infrastructure project is being executed by French engineering firms.
Additionally, the France-based tire manufacturer Michelin operates a factory in the Serbian city of Pirot, while the energy and technology company Schneider Electric has its R&D and Software Center located in Novi Sad.
We spoke with academics and activists about whether animal testing is truly necessary or a systematic exploitation. The key question is whether animals should be considered “disposable.”
Animal testing is one of the most controversial topics in animal rights and ethics. On one side, animals are used in experiments as part of scientific progress. On the other, alternative methods that prioritize animal rights are still being debated. At the heart of this debate, this is the question: what ethical principles guide science, and how do scientific processes actually work?
We spoke with Prof. Dr. Uygar Halis Tazebay, a faculty member in the Department of Molecular Biology and Genetics at Gebze Technical University. He shared his views on how ethics committees handle animal testing and what alternative methods exist.
How does the ethics committee process work?
Tazebay notes that animal testing has been a controversial issue since the 13th century. He sees it as a “compromise” between scientific necessity and ethical concern, and says scientists themselves struggle with this dilemma.
“Ethics committees don’t simply approve animal use. First, they ask whether it’s truly necessary” he said. He added that applications are reviewed carefully, not just for the research goal, but also for whether alternatives exist and how many animals would be used. “How many animals? Why that number? Can this be done without animals? These are all questioned” he said.
In Turkey, the formal process for establishing ethics committees for animal experiments began with the Animal Protection Law No. 5199, enacted in 2004, and the regulations published in 2006. With the regulations of 2014, the Central Animal Experimentation Ethics Committees (HADMEK) and the Local Animal Experimentation Ethics Committees (HADYEK) were established.
Companies are mainly focused on cost
Tazebay said that while companies are trying to move away from animal testing toward alternatives, the main reason is often profit, because animal testing is expensive. “Drug companies want to get their product to market as fast as possible. The sooner you launch a discovery, the sooner you start making money” he said.
Why are alternatives still limited?
Tazebay also explained the technical side of alternatives:
“One approach is using artificial intelligence and computational biology to eliminate animals entirely. For example, toxicology studies are already fully AI-based. Another approach is switching to in vitro (lab-based) systems that mimic animals.”
However, he pointed out the limitations: “AI and computational biology give us results based only on what we already know, and we don’t yet know everything about cells. So when we build a model assuming we know everything, it doesn’t give us complete answers.”
For this reason, Tazebay believes it is currently not possible to eliminate animal testing entirely, given the limits of today’s scientific knowledge.
The current ethical approach, therefore, is not about completely eliminating animal use, but about how to limit it.
The main issue is that animals are considered disposable
However, animal rights advocates say this isn’t just a technical or scientific issue. Vegan and ecofeminist activist Özge Özgüner offered a perspective that puts animal lives at the center of the discussion.
Özgüner began by stating that animal testing is one of the most visible and systematic forms of exploitation. “From an animal rights perspective, the core problem with animal testing goes beyond recognizing rights or the issue of ‘suffering.’ It’s that animals’ lives are considered legitimately sacrificeable for human interests. In other words, animal exploitation is justified by constantly pitting the value of animal life against human life,” she said.
“For companies, it’s not about ethics, it’s about power”
Özgüner said companies are not interested in the ethical side of animal testing at all. “Companies treat animal testing as a technical matter, about regulatory compliance and risk management, so they can sell their products. For many companies, the deciding question is simply: ‘Am I required to do this or not?'” She added that while companies are increasingly moving toward alternatives, the reason is that they must comply with OECD guidelines and meet international standards. “Behind this seemingly positive shift, there’s no scientific ethics, just calculations about scientific efficiency” she said.
Özgüner explained that framing animal testing as a “scientific necessity” is tied to power dynamics shaped by scientific and economic systems.
“If alternative methods (in vitro models, organoids, computer simulations) are properly supported and expanded, many experiments can be done without using animals.”
Ethics committees focus on regulating animal use,instead of eliminating it
Özgüner noted that animal models used in research have a very low rate of reliably predicting outcomes in humans. “No matter how much testing is done on animals, the first real application of these methods still happens on humans. This shows that animal testing is not unavoidable,” she said. She believes animal rights are not recognized at the level of scientific ethics, and that committees like HADMEK focus on regulating animal use rather than ending it.
Özgüner said that in Turkey, animal testing is largely regulated in line with European Union (EU) legislation. “Ethics committees regulate how experiments are conducted within the legal framework. While animal testing in cosmetics has been banned under EU compliance laws, animal exploitation continues in drug development and academic research,” she said.
She noted that Turkey has no announced timeline or long-term national strategy to end animal testing. “Current restrictions are driven by international trade standards. Yet it is very clear that no real scientific progress can be made while animals’ right to life is disregarded and they are treated as mere tools in scientific production,” she said.
“We must transform institutional policies and support alternatives”
Özgüner said a world where animal testing is completely banned is possible. While the global push to end these experiments is not yet framed around animal rights, she pointed out that the alternatives being developed – methods that don’t exploit animals – are proving effective. If properly supported, she said, animal use could be greatly reduced.
She continued: “To achieve this, students, researchers, and ethics committees must be educated from a perspective that recognizes animal rights. The path forward is a rights-based strategy, one that refuses animal use in research, supports alternatives, and focuses on transforming institutional policies.”
In 1991, the ban on the Kurdish language was partially lifted, and from that point on, Istanbul particularly the Mesopotamia Cultural Center in Beyoğlu became a hub for a new wave of music production aimed at urban Kurdish youth.
“Koma Amed’in Kulîlka Azadî albüm kaseti”
The 1990s marked a period of transformation for Kurdish music in Türkiye. With the partial lifting of the ban on the Kurdish language in 1991, Istanbul became the center of Kurdish cultural production. Numerous groups, operating both within the Mesopotamia Cultural Center (NÇM/MKM) and independently, reinterpreted traditional Kurdish folk music with contemporary arrangements. During the same period, diaspora communities in Europe were developing a completely different musical political approach through groups like Koma Berxwedan.
The ban on the Kurdish language in Türkiye was expanded in both public and private spheres following the 1980 military coup. In 1991, the ban was partially relaxed. From that point on, the Mesopotamia Cultural Center (Navenda Çanda Mezopotamya, NÇM) in Istanbul, particularly in Beyoğlu, became a focal point for new music production aimed at urban Kurdish youth. Meanwhile, in Europe, especially in Germany, Belgium, and the Netherlands, established diaspora communities continued the circulation of Kurdish music through cassettes smuggled into Türkiye.
Timeline — Kurdish music groups of the 1990s
On mobile, the timeline can be scrolled horizontally.
Groups with roots spanning the 1980s into the 1990s
Koma Berxwedan
One of the most important groups in the history of Kurdish music. It was founded in Germany in 1983 under the umbrella of Hunerkom, a Kurdish cultural and artists’ organization; this structure was renamed the Kurdish Academy of Culture and Arts in 1994. The group had a constantly changing membership structure, making it an “open group”.
The group, which spread to Kurdish cultural centers in France, Germany, and the Netherlands, carried out the most comprehensive research and preservation work on traditional Kurdish folk music. Albums released in the 1990s were smuggled into Türkiye and reached a wide audience through cassettes smuggled across the border. The group, which disbanded in 2019, recently announced that it will resume its work.
Founded: 1983, Germany Selected albums: Dîlan (1985), Botan (1987), Newroz (1989), Amed (1991) Area of activity: Germany, France, Netherlands; banned in Turkey Notable songs: Lê Amedê, Oy Kurdistan, Herne Pêş, Newroz
Koma Dengê Azadî
Founded in Istanbul in 1990 and led by Hakan Ener, this group became one of the most popular and long-lasting Kurdish music ensembles of the 1990s. They created a unique sound appealing to urban Kurdish youth: a style entirely new for the time, blending traditional folk music with funk, funk-jazz, and rock’n’roll. They combined Eastern instruments such as the bağlama, duduk, and mey with guitar and trumpet.
The group, which included a Kurdish translation of “Bella Ciao” in its repertoire, had all four of its albums banned by the state for a period. Despite the bans, hundreds of thousands of copies were sold. They continued their extensive concert activity in Germany, Belgium, the Netherlands, and the United Kingdom.
Songs like “Selîmo”, “Hat karwanê Helebê”, “Lo şivano”, and “Roj roja me ye” have achieved cultural icon status and have been covered countless times to this day. Recently, the song “Çavên me sondxwarîne” has become very popular.
Founded: 1990, Istanbul Albums: Hêvî (1991), Em Azadîxwaz in (1993), Welatê min / Roj wê bê (1995), Fedî (1998) Musical style: Jazz-funk, rock’n’roll, folk Label: Ses Plak
Groups associated with the Mesopotamia Cultural Centre
On MKM / NÇM
Navenda Çanda Mezopotamya (NÇM) was founded in Beyoğlu, Istanbul in 1991, following the easing of the ban on the Kurdish language. Becoming a center for Kurdish cultural production, it housed numerous music groups. Most of these groups worked with the same studio, sound engineer, arranger, and recording musicians; this collaboration gave the sound of the era a distinct unity.
Map — musical centres and cassette circulation
Borders are schematic and do not represent political boundaries.
Koma Amed
It was founded in 1988 in Ankara by medical students. Among the founders, Evdilmelik Şêxbekir (Melek), a Kurd from Rojava studying at Hacettepe University, stood out. During its establishment, they faced significant difficulties finding a studio that played Kurdish music. In 1993, they moved to Istanbul and began working with NÇM.
The group, applying a folk-jazz synthesis with an experimental approach, broke away from the conventions of traditional Kurdish music. Their first album included “Çav Bella,” a Kurdish adaptation of “Bella Ciao.” This transformation was orchestrated by Şêxbekir. The Dergûş album sold over 400,000 copies; the then Minister of Foreign Affairs, İsmail Cem, presented this album as a gift to his EU counterparts, arguing that “Kurdish is not banned.”
Founded: 1988, Ankara Albums: Kulîlka Azadî (1990), Agir û Mirov, Dergûş (1997) Musical style: Folk-jazz, experimental folk Label: Ses Plak
After Koma Amed: Çar Newa
Following the dissolution of Koma Amed, four members of the group came together to form Çar Newa. The number “çar” (four) in its name directly refers to this founding story. It was active in the late 1990s and early 2000s.
Koma Amed, a group that sought to build its own sound upon the folk-jazz heritage of the past, continued the musical language of its predecessor.
Founded: Late 1990s, Istanbul Origin: Continuation of Koma Amed — four former members Period: Late 1990s – early 2000s
Koma Rewşen
Recognised as the first Kurdish-language rock group in Turkey. Operating under the NÇM, the group occupies a distinctive place in the Kurdish music landscape of the period by virtue of this pioneering role. Koma Rewşen combined a rock formation with Kurdish lyrics and traditional motifs, becoming known through live performances in student circles and at NÇM events.
Significance: First Kurdish-language rock group in Turkey Affiliation: NÇM, Istanbul Period: Early to mid-1990s
Koma Asmîn
A music group composed entirely of women. This characteristic gives it a singular place in the Kurdish music landscape of the period, carrying distinct symbolic weight in terms of both gender and cultural identity. Active at the same time as NÇM-affiliated groups, Koma Asmîn contributed to the visibility of Kurdish women’s voices in public life.
Composition: Women members only Affiliation: NÇM circle, Turkey Period: 1990s
Agirê Jiyan
One of the prominent groups of the 1990s, developing a distinctive approach in an effort to bring Kurdish music onto a modern and popular footing. It operated in connection with the NÇM, sharing the same studio infrastructure and technical team as the other groups of the period. Known particularly for its dance rhythms and arrangements, it is frequently cited alongside Koma Çiya, Koma Azad and Koma Amed in academic sources.
Selected album: Adarê (1995) Musical style: Modern Kurdish folk, dance Period: Early to late 1990s
Koma Çiya
One of the groups operating within the NÇM. Consistently present across the recordings of Kurdish music production of the period, Koma Çiya is grouped with other ensembles sharing similar political themes and sonic approaches. It is best known for the album Dîlana Bêsînor, released in 1998 on the Kom Müzik label.
Selected album: Dîlana Bêsînor (1998, Kom Müzik) Affiliation: NÇM, Istanbul
Koma Rojhilat
The group took on a musical identity shaped by its reference to Iranian Kurdistan (Rojhilat), as the name indicates. One of the principal groups of the NÇM, it produced work in Istanbul throughout the 1990s. Its recorded centrepiece is the album Mezrabotanim Ez, released in 1997 on the Kom Müzik label.
Selected album: Mezrabotanim Ez (1997, Kom Müzik) Affiliation: NÇM, Istanbul
Koma Azad
It is one of the groups documented to be active both in Türkiye and in the diaspora. It is the most widely known among the Kurdish groups bearing the name “Freedom”. In terms of musical style, its name is mentioned alongside Koma Azadî and Koma Dengê Kawa.
It was active during the same period as groups affiliated with NÇM. It shared a common aesthetic in terms of political themes and the reinterpretation of folk music.
Other groups of the period
Vengê Sodirî
A group occupying a singular position in the Kurdish music landscape of the period: it produced music exclusively in Zazaki and worked with an experimental approach. Taken together, these two characteristics place it in a rare position among the groups of the era.
Language: Zazaki (distinct from other groups active in Turkey) Musical approach: Experimental Period: 1990s
Gulên Mezrabotan
One of the most unusual formations in the Kurdish music landscape of the period: all of the group’s members were children. It took on a symbolic role in the transmission of Kurdish cultural identity to younger generations. Its direct incorporation of children into Kurdish music production stands as a singular undertaking within the era.
Composition: All members children Affiliation: Turkey Period: 1990s
Koma Gulên Xerzan
Taking its name from the Xerzan region of Batman, the group combined folkloric roots and political lyrics in Kurdish music of the 90s. Their music, which spread through cassette culture, carried themes of identity, exile, and resistance. They became synonymous with names like Rojda and Çiya.
A pioneering group from the Soviet sphere
Koma Wetan
Although its historical significance extends back well before the 1990s, this group, founded in Soviet Tbilisi in 1973, holds the distinction of being the world’s first Kurdish-language rock ensemble. Its lineup consisted of three Yazidi Kurds and one Armenian; the lead performer, Kerem Gerdenzerî, was born in Tbilisi, though his family was originally from Kars and Van. With state support from the Soviet authorities, the group was granted the status of a “vocal-instrumental ensemble” and featured on state television and at festivals.
It recorded demos in 1979; its sole album, Bayê Payizê (Autumn Winds), was not released until 1989. Combining Kurdish poetry with classic rock, psychedelic textures and the works of the region’s Kurdish bards, the record attracted considerable interest among Kurdish musicians in Turkey during the 1990s and was acknowledged by a number of groups as a source and point of reference.
Founded: 1973, Tbilisi (USSR) Album: Bayê Payizê (1989) Musical style: Kurdish poetry + rock, psychedelic Significance: World’s first Kurdish-language rock group.
*The map and timeline were generated using the AI tool Claude.
Nearly 40 years ago, in an era where “Kurdish börek” was being rebranded as “Küt börek,” a lawsuit was filed against a baker named Yusuf in İzmit simply because he wrote “Kurdish börek” on his shop sign.
Photo: Ferid Demirel
In Frankfurt, at the intersection of Battonstrasse and Langestrasse, sits a modest establishment: Dağlayan Börekçilik. It is run by Yusuf Dağlayan, a man from Bingöl. His life offers a striking window into the ongoing debates regarding Kurds in Turkey—and even into a matter as seemingly simple as the name of a pastry.
One morning in Frankfurt, while searching for an open breakfast spot, I noticed a place with “Börekçilik” written on its sign right at the junction of two streets. I stepped inside. It was still early; the shop was empty.
Behind the counter stood a middle-aged man—balding, with a slight belly—who greeted me in German. After a brief exchange, he mentioned he was from Bingöl. I ordered a börek and sat down. Once he finished his work behind the counter, the owner came over and sat across from me.
After the usual introductions, I brought up a debate that had recently resurfaced in Turkey: I asked what he thought about the attempts to rename “Kurdish börek” as “Küt börek.”
Yusuf immediately began telling a story from his past:
“I am Yusuf Dağlayan,” he said. “I am from the hamlet of Bağkıyan, in the village of Bilece, between Kiğı and Pülümür. You can’t just call it Bingöl. Kiğı used to belong to Dersim; it was only attached to Bingöl after 1948. Pülümür and Dersim are closer to us anyway. I was detained in 1982. Tortured. This was the September 12 period. Both my father and I. Back then, it was the left-right conflict; it was before the PKK. My older brother was a student, but he fled abroad. The state put pressure on us and took us in. Because of this, at the end of 1984, I had to move to İzmit.”
Unable to find steady work, he took matters into his own hands:
“I started selling börek from a mobile cart in front of the SEKA paper factory. We had no money. Just börek. So we made Kurdish börek. On the first day, they beat me. ‘You can’t stay here, you can’t sell here,’ they said. The next day, a massive fight broke out, but eventually, we took control of that spot.”
According to Yusuf, the factory provided a constant flow of people ten thousand entering and ten thousand exiting:
“Then we expanded the business. We opened a shop. We had five mobile carts and our own production facility.”
As we spoke, an acquaintance of his entered. After exchanging greetings, he sat with us, and Yusuf continued:
“In İzmit, they used to call me ‘Kurdish Yusuf.’ This was around 1987. After I opened the shop, I received a court summons one day. I went to court. The judge asked: ‘Why did you write Kurdish börek on your sign and your menu?”
Photo: Ferid Demirel
“I said: There is a man named Mehmet from our village who went to Istanbul. Among us Kurdish Alevis, we make “perğe” every New Year for Hızır. It is an oily bread that we share with people. Muslims sacrifice animals; we do this. The judge told me, ‘You are being divisive.’”
Yusuf smiled.
“I said: There is Laz börek, Circassian, Bosnian… why shouldn’t there be Kurdish börek?”
From there, Yusuf moved into another story one he also told in court about “Kurdish Mehmet the Porter,” a figure who has since become part of the pastry’s folklore:
“Mehmet was Kurdish. He was poor. He went to Istanbul, to Kasımpaşa, by ship. He worked as a porter. He had made perğe at home and took it with him to eat near the Galata Bridge. People saw what he was eating. They liked it. They gave him money and bought the kilor (rings) from him. He ended up going hungry that day but realized he had made good money.”
So, he began making more.
“He started selling them. A hundred, two hundred a day. He saw he was earning more than he did from portering. He rented a shop in Karaköy from someone from Trabzon. That shop is still there. He built a bakery. That oven is still running. He passed away long ago. His name was Kurdish Mehmet. People called him Rengo. This was 250 years ago.”
After Yusuf told this story and made his defense, the judge took a ten-minute recess. When the session resumed, he simply said, “You may go.” The case was dropped.
However, months later, another summons arrived. “This time it was a different judge,” Yusuf said. “He said: ‘You are spreading separatism. Your cart has yellow, red, and green colors; these are separatist colors. This is PKK propaganda.’”
“I said: If these colors are separatist, then from Thrace to Kars, from Trabzon to Antalya and Izmir… is the state separatist too? The judge frowned. ‘How so?’ he asked. I told him: I see traffic lights everywhere. Those colors are beautiful. That is why I used them on my shop. If I am a separatist, then the state is a separatist too.”
The judge paused and then said: “You may go.” The file was closed.
Yusuf continued working in İzmit until 1993. Eventually, as political cases persisted and an arrest warrant was issued, he became a fugitive. He lived underground
The Mezopotamya Women Journalists Association (MKG) and the Dicle Fırat Journalists Association (DFG) released a statement on April 6, the “Day of Killed Journalists,” saying:“It is our duty to expand the struggle for truth of the murdered journalists, to honor their memory, and to continue the line of a free press.”
MKG and DFG issued a joint statement marking April 6 “Day of Killed Journalists.”
Their collective statement reads as follows:
April 6 is a day of commemoration for journalists in Turkey who were killed because of their journalistic activities. The date was chosen because journalist and writer Hasan Fehmi Bey was assassinated on April 6, 1909, on the Galata Bridge, making him one of the first losses of this job.
The Turkish Journalists Association (TGC) designated April 6 as the “Day of Martyred Journalists” in 1997; in 2005, the name was changed to the “Day of Killed Journalists.” April 6 commemorates journalists who were killed for pursuing the truth. Targeted for exposing facts, being the voice of the people, and revealing darkness, these journalists continue to live on in the memory of the struggle for a free press.
Once again, through the memory of killed journalists, we emphasize: with every journalist whose pen was meant to be broken, the truth itself was intended to be silenced. However, pressures, threats, massacres, and policies of impunity have not been able to stop the tradition of a free press. In these lands, those who pursue the truth have always paid a price—but they have never abandoned the truth. Today, we commemorate all murdered journalists with respect and gratitude. The legacy they left behind, their resistance, and their struggle for truth continue to illuminate our path.
The pens of murdered journalists have not fallen silent, and will not. It is our responsibility to grow their struggle for truth, to uphold their memory, and to continue the line of a free press.
Mezopotamya Women Journalists Association – the Dicle Fırat Journalists Association
The DFG had also published a monthly report on April 2, regarding violations of rights against journalists in March. The report included the following data:
5 journalists were detained
2 journalists were arrested
1 journalist was subjected to ill-treatment
2 journalists were threatened
1 journalist was targeted
Investigations were launched against 3 journalists
Lawsuits were filed against 5 journalists
3 journalists were sentenced
Cases of 24 journalists are ongoing
5 news coverages were blocked
Access bans were imposed 6 times
53 social media accounts and 75 pieces of content were blocked in digital media
In the Socialists’ Cemetery, the revolutionaries of the German Socialist Movement engraved in the history books lie side by side with nameless heroes.
Photo: Wikipedia
As you walk through the silence of a large park in Berlin’s Friedrichsfelde district, you come across three words engraved on a stone: “Die Toten mahnen uns.” In English, “The dead warn us.” With this phrase, you suddenly feel as though an entirely different era has begun, with slogans and marches echoing around you; this is Zentralfriedhof Friedrichsfelde. In other words, the Socialists’ Cemetery…
When the Berlin Municipality purchased this 25-hectare site in 1880, it commissioned landscape architect Hermann Mächtig to design the area as a garden cemetery. At the time of its opening, it became the first municipal cemetery open to all Berliners, regardless of faith. No distinction was made between rich and poor… The city’s poor were buried here, with the municipality covering their funeral expenses. For this reason, it came to be known as the “Armenfriedhof,” meaning the “Cemetery of the Poor.”
On one side, the cemetery is home to the well-kept and magnificent tombs of the city’s wealthy families, while on the other lie the graves of thousands of poor Berliners, some lacking even a name… Here, those whose only possession in life was their bodies are “equalized” with the rich in death.
And it is also here that the revolutionaries of the German Socialist Movement, etched into history books, lie side by side with nameless heroes.
A red marble plaque inscribed with the names of 327 men and women who died fighting against fascism between 1933 and 1945. Photo / Wikipedia
The Funeral That Changed the Cemetery’s Fate
August 7, 1900… Wilhelm Liebknecht, one of the pioneers of the German Socialist movement, suffered a stroke while returning home after working late at the socialist newspaper Vorwärts, which he had been an editor for years, and died at the age of 74. On August 12, Berlin witnessed one of the largest funerals in its history. Tens of thousands of people joined the procession stretching from the city center to Friedrichsfelde Cemetery.
This ceremony and the crowd in attendance did not merely bid farewell to Liebknecht. They also altered the cemetery’s fate. Liebknecht’s burial here instantly transformed Friedrichsfelde into a shrine for the labor movement. His grave, standing like a monument, became a gathering point for generations of social democrats, socialists, and anti-fascists. Subsequently, other leaders of the labor movement, such as Ignaz Auer, Paul Singer, Carl Legien, and Theodor Leipart, were also laid to rest here. Thus, Friedrichsfelde took on the name “Socialists’ Cemetery” and was cemented into the symbolic map of the people’s struggle in Berlin. Thereafter, each new burial added new layers of meaning to the cemetery, accompanied by inscriptions carved into stones and newly erected statues. Each statue became a silent but screaming manifesto.
Rosa is Here: “I Was, I Am, I Shall Be”
January 1919 was a time when the streets of Berlin became the scene of the Spartacist Uprising, echoing with clashes between the Spartacists and Freikorps units (paramilitary forces). On January 15, 1919, more than a hundred revolutionaries, including Rosa Luxemburg and Karl Liebknecht, were massacred by Freikorps troops. Some died in clashes, while others were executed by firing squad in extrajudicial killings…
The ceremony attended by high-ranking East German leaders to commemorate Rosa Luxemburg in January 1989. Photo / Wikipedia
The bodies of Karl Liebknecht and 33 others were buried in the Socialists’ Cemetery on January 25. Karl was now in the same cemetery as his father, Wilhelm Liebknecht. Rosa, however, was made to disappear after being killed. It took months to find her body. She was eventually found in May 1919 in the Landwehr Canal, where she had been thrown, and was buried in this cemetery. Rosa was one of the revolutionaries that the fascists feared the most, so that they wanted her body to be lost and for her to be forgotten. But they failed. Rosa is now in the Socialists’ Cemetery, and through her final article, she declares: “Tomorrow, the revolution will already rise up resoundingly and proclaim to your horror with trumpets: I was, I am, I shall be!“
Destruction and Reconstruction
The year 1926 marked a new turning point for the Socialists’ Cemetery. On June 13, 1926, the “Revolutionsdenkmal” (Monument to the Revolution) was unveiled. Built as a red brick cube, it symbolized the resilience of the revolutionary movement and the revolutionaries who were lined up against a wall and executed by a firing squad. However, the Nazi regime destroyed this memorial of the revolution with dynamite in 1935.
Following the Second World War, the German Democratic Republic (GDR), established in East Berlin, sought to once again glorify the symbols of the labor movement. On January 14, 1951, a new site was opened in the center of the Socialists’ Cemetery: the “Gedenkstätte der Sozialisten” (Memorial to the Socialists). A large porphyry stone was erected right in the middle of the memorial. Only three words are inscribed on the obelisk: “Die Toten mahnen uns” (The dead warn us.) A simple, brief sentence, yet one that strikes every reader to the core…
The monument, designed by Ludwig Mies van der Rohe in 1926 and built in memory of the fallen Spartacists, was destroyed by the Third Reich after 1935. Photo / Wikipedia
During the GDR era, the monument became an indispensable venue for state ceremonies. In the final years of East Germany, while the cemetery became a burial ground for party elites and the state bureaucracy, it was closed to new burials following the fall of the Berlin Wall and reunification of Germany. The existing graves remain standing, preserving history like a stone memory.
The Call Echoing in the Silence
Although the crowds at the official ceremonies held in the Socialists’ Cemetery dwindled after the fall of the Berlin Wall, thousands of people still come here every January, braving the cold, to commemorate Rosa and Karl. The graves of the 327 anti-fascists in the outer semicircle of the cemetery, who took part in resistance networks during the Hitler era, are not forgotten either. Among them are workers, trade unionists, teachers, and ordinary people. Ordinary, but brave people…
The sentence carved in stone continues to ring in the ears of visitors leaving the cemetery: “The dead warn us!” This is not merely a reminder. It is a call that carries the lessons of the past into today and tomorrow. And everyone asks themselves this question: Do the dead in our geography warn us too?
The objection against the arrest of Esra Işık has been rejected by the Muğla 2nd Civil Court of First Instance.
Esra Işık was detained and later arrested while protesting during an expert inspection related to a lawsuit against the urgent expropriation of agricultural land around Akbelen Forest in Milas, Muğla. The objection to her arrest has been rejected by the Muğla 2nd Civil Court of First Instance.
She is one of the leading figures in the Akbelen protests. An urgent expropriation decision decision had been issued for 679 parcels of agricultural land surrounding Akbelen Forest in Milas, Muğla which will result in villagers losing their olive groves and homes. Local residents say this action is meant to expand coal mining operations run by YK Energy, a company owned by İçtaş and Limak, and they have taken the case to court.
Court-appointed panel of experts began on-site inspections in the area on March 30 under gendarmerie supervision. Following tensions that arose during the inspection, while villagers reacting the inspection experts on March 31, Esra Işık was detained that night and arrested the same day.
