Hassan Hamza – Activists
We no longer hold any illusions about the South. Our words and criticisms have been exhausted. Wherever you stand, you find yourself tangled in its web. The system of tribalism, political Islam, and red carpet ceremonies for the “young president” has become an admired model—for them.
From the very beginning, everything was conditioned on their terms: the first newspaper, the first Newroz fire, and even the national anthem—now echoed across Bakur, Rojava, and Rojhelat—all trace their origins to that foundation.
It has often been said: Art is born in Rojhelat but matures in Slemani. Yet this model seems to have passed its prime. The forces of creativity and resistance have been cut off from the South for decades.
How did the South come to this decay?
To be frank, the roots lie in a hereditary system of leadership: the legacy passed from father to son, institutionalized as a model. Parliament has been reduced to a hall of loyalists, collaborators, and opportunists.
This form of governance in the South has become entrenched and unchangeable. The political system has become so rigid that not even a significant political event—internal or external—can effect transformation unless an unexpected catastrophe or natural disaster forcibly disrupts it. Until then, it remains sealed.
Due to widespread illiteracy, stagnation, and a feudal mentality rooted in tribalism and political Islam—be it Salafi, Ikhwani, or any other branch—religious extremism has found fertile ground to expand. They invoke Mecca to justify their actions in Kurdistan, reaping the rewards of reactionary and repressive governance. These are the same families whose leaders proudly declare: Our tribe possesses thousands of men. A family that promotes an alternate model of Islam in which women are invisible—both in public and behind the curtain.
Even the heirs of Mullah Jalal have inherited only titles and hollow rhetoric. Their only contribution is aimless boasting and superficial speeches, waiting for the next opportunity in the yellow zone. Nothing substantial remains.
Meanwhile, the sons of the “tribe of a thousand men” have stashed billions in global banks. At the same table with aging colonial merchants, they sign gas and oil contracts worth billions—while promoting autonomy and federalism that have long been sold off.
Simultaneously, another wave of Salafism and Islamic revivalism continues to grow under their wing, fostering a vision that turns Kurdistan into a second Kabul. They present themselves as saviors while laying the groundwork for a brotherly party-state.
What is even more tragic is the alignment of global powers—Putin, Erdoğan, Trump, and others—who support these figures as a model of conservative, outdated, and corrupt governance. In this era of political emptiness and decay, they have become recycled tools in the hands of international power dynamics.
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