Hiwa Tase
Published online by TISHK Center for Kurdistan Studies: 11.01.2026
Summary
For the Kurds of Eastern Kurdistan (Rojhelat), the possible fall of the Iranian regime brings a paradox of victory. This feeling comes from a long history of being suppressed by central governments, from the destruction of the Kurdistan Republic in 1946 to the “holy war” against Kurdish autonomy in 1979. Even with this difficult past, things have changed. Today, the movement shows a strong national identity that includes Ilam and Kermanshah, and a civil society that leads genuine resistance. Although there is still fear of violence from the center, the movement is now more mature and self-aware, ready to fight for its basic rights.
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Keywords: Rojhelat, Self-determination, Historical anxiety, Militarization, Civil society.
Today, forty-seven years after the fall of the Pahlavi dynasty and the start of the current uprisings in Iran and Eastern Kurdistan (Rojhelat), people look back on their history with a paradoxical feeling. On one hand, they celebrate the possibility of the current regime collapsing and are participating actively in the ongoing revolutionary movement. On the other hand, there is a lingering sense of historical anxiety; even if the current system falls, they fear they still face a long road to truly granting and securing their fundamental rights. For the Kurds, the struggle is not only about the broader democratic transformation of Iran but also about the specific, long-standing quest for self-determination, a quest that has been met with consistent suppression and aggressive military responses by successive central governments. In this short essay, I highlight the historical fears rooted in the Kurdish memory and analyze the fundamental shifts that have transformed Rojhelat’s political landscape in comparison to the 1979 Revolution.
This sense of fear and skepticism is rooted in a foundational memory: the short-lived Republic of Kurdistan in Mahabad in 1946. Although the republic was a turning point for emerging Kurdish nationalism, it ended in tragedy when the Iranian army entered the city, arresting and executing Qazi Muhammad and other leaders. This image of state execution has remained fixed in the Kurdish collective mind, serving as the first major lesson that windows of self-determination are often met with brutal closure. Even as the Republic became an enduring symbol of modern statehood, its suppression set a precedent for the restoration of centralized power.
This historical trauma deeply informed the intense skepticism Kurds felt during the 1979 Revolution, a time that began with unprecedented hope before rapidly descending into conflict. Following the Shah’s fall, Kurdish groups including Kurdistan Democratic Party Of Kurdistan-Iran (KDPI) and Komala engaged in genuine negotiations with the provisional government, which initially seemed open to the idea of regional autonomy. However, this fragile opening was extinguished as Ayatollah Khomeini consolidated absolute authority and declared a “holy war” (jihad) against the Kurds in August 1979. By framing Kurdish demands as a threat to territorial integrity, the state shifted from political dialogue to a military suppression. This same tactic of delegitimization was used during the Iran-Iraq War of the 1980s; the government branded the Kurdish struggle as treasonous collaboration with Saddam Hussein, justifying a brutal militarization of the region that persists to this day.
By the 1990s, this cycle of state-sponsored fear had spilled over Iran’s borders. Following the 1989 assassination of KDPI leader Abdul Rahman Ghassemlou in Vienna, the Kurdish movement faced the reach of the Iranian state’s security apparatus even in Europe, notably during the 1992 Mykonos restaurant assassinations in Berlin. This era of high-intensity volatility showed that the threat to Kurdish leadership was not confined to the mountains, but was a global campaign of suppression. These events find a modern parallel in the 2022–2023 crackdown, where Tehran—seeking to deflect domestic pressure from the “Woman, Life, Freedom” protests—launched multiple rounds of ballistic missile and drone strikes against Kurdish refugee camps and political offices in Iraqi Kurdistan.
Despite these recurring cycles of fear and violence, the landscape of Kurdistan today has transformed fundamentally compared to 1979. There has been a profound rise in Kurdish national awareness and a sophisticated political consciousness that transcends local grievances. A critical development in this new era is the expansion of the geography of Kurdish nationalism; the movement has now firmly reached Ilam and Kermanshah, integrating these southern regions of Eastern Kurdistan into the broader struggle. These areas, once considered more integrated into the central state, now play a critical role in the future of Kurdistan, providing a deeper strategic and demographic depth to the movement.
Furthermore, the political environment has matured significantly. Despite ideological differences and internal tensions, political parties have, at this crucial historical moment, come together around a shared platform and found common ground to mobilize grassroots organizations. Their collective calls for strikes, demonstrations, and political action have been widely embraced by people on the ground. Perhaps the most powerful shift, however, is the emergence of a robust civil society within Kurdistan. This civil force has become the most potent driver of change, maintaining an organic and symbiotic relationship with political parties while leading the charge in social and cultural resistance. While the historical fear of brutal suppression remains, this internal strength suggests that the Kurdish community is no longer just a subject of state policy, but a highly organized and self-aware political force.
