For more than a century, the Kurds of the Middle East have been among the most consistent friends of the West. This friendship has never been based on geography or convenience. It has been rooted in shared values: democracy, pluralism, tolerance, and the belief that people of different faiths and cultures can live together in dignity.
Long before these ideals became political slogans, they were everyday realities in Greater Kurdistan. For centuries, Kurds, Armenians, Arabs, Assyrians, Turks, and Persians lived side by side. Muslims, Christians, Jews, Yazidis, Alawites, and Druze practiced their faiths freely. Diversity was not feared, it was normal. Coexistence was not a project imposed from above; it was simply the way society functioned in Kurdistan.
That tradition was shattered after World War I. The postwar agreements engineered by the European powers after World War I, including the secret Sykes Picot carve up of the Ottoman Empire and the later Treaty of Lausanne that replaced the earlier Treaty of Sevres, effectively divided the Kurdish homeland among Iraq, Iran, Syria, and Turkey, leaving the Kurds without a state of their own. The newly formed nation-states that emerged from the ruins of the Ottoman Empire were built on rigid nationalism. Their goal was homogenization. Diversity became something to suppress, and Kurdish identity became something to erase.
From that moment, Kurdish resistance began. It was not merely a struggle for land; it was a struggle for existence. Kurds were denied their language, their culture, and even their right to call themselves a people. Successive governments sought to eliminate Kurdish identity through repression and forced assimilation. Too often, Western powers looked the other way, prioritizing short-term geopolitical interests over justice.
Yet despite this painful history, the Kurds repeatedly chose partnership with the West. Repeatedly, they stood with Western nations at decisive moments.
When Saddam Hussein terrorized Iraq and destabilized the region, it was the Kurds who rose up. When al-Qaida spread its violent ideology, Kurdish forces fought it on the ground. When ISIS unleashed genocide and sought to establish a caliphate, Kurdish men and women became the backbone of the resistance. Tens of thousands of Kurdish fighters gave their lives, not only to defend their own communities, but to protect Western cities from terrorism.
The liberation of Kobani, Raqqa, and much of northern Syria was achieved largely through Kurdish sacrifice. Kurdish forces guarded thousands of captured Islamic State (ISIS) militants so that the West would not have to deploy its own soldiers. The security Americans and Europeans enjoy today is owed in no small part to Kurdish courage.
And what have the Kurds received in return?
Too often, abandonment.
In 2017, the Kurdish region in Iraq held a peaceful independence referendum. Nearly 97 percent voted in favor. Instead of supporting this democratic expression, the United States and its allies sided with Baghdad. When Iranian-backed militias marched on Kurdish cities to crush that vote, the West remained silent and advised the Kurds to surrender.
That moment planted deep doubts about the authenticity of Western friendship.
Today, those doubts are turning into something far worse.
In northeastern Syria, known to Kurds as Rojava, a rare democratic experiment has flourished over the last decade. Kurds, Arabs, Christians, and others built a multiethnic administration based on gender equality, religious freedom, and local self-rule. It became the most stable and tolerant region in Syria.
Recently, it came under attack and a fragile ceasefire could be violated any time.
The United States and its allies are shifting their support to Ahmed al-Sharaa, former al-Qaida member, who has now been rebranded as Syria’s new ruler. In the name of expediency, Washington appears willing to sacrifice the very Kurdish partners who defeated ISIS on its behalf.
This is a betrayal not only of an ally but of logic and principle. The Kurds in Syria did not fight for years against Bashar al-Assad’s dictatorship and ISIS’s terror only to end up under yet another authoritarian Islamist ruler. They did not sacrifice tens of thousands of lives to replace one form of oppression with another. Their struggle was for freedom, dignity, and democratic self-governance, not to exchange one strongman for the next.
Yet today Kurdish cities such as Kobane are besieged. Electricity and water have been largely cut off. Tens of thousands of civilians have been displaced. And Western capitals, eager for a quick deal with Damascus, remain largely silent.