NEWS
NEWS

Northeast Syria returns to 2014

Updated

The war between Kurds and the Syrian army takes the population back to the war scenario of the previous decade and puts the autonomous project of the so-called Rojava on the brink of extinction

Kurdish soldiers deploy with armored military vehicles.
Kurdish soldiers deploy with armored military vehicles.AP

The murals illustrating the walls of the Qamishli stadium provide a review of decades of PKK history, the party founded by Kurdish leader Abdullah Öcalan. From when he trained in the Lebanese Bekaa, at the so-called Mahsum Korkmaz Academy, under the tutelage of the PLO of Yasser Arafat and the Syrian regime, to the most recent era.

Each painting corresponds to a key date for the idealized vision of this formation. The latest ones focus on the bloody confrontation fought by the Kurdish forces of the People's Defense Units (YPG) - a "franchise" linked to the PKK - against the Islamic State (IS), and on key moments of that combat like the "Kobane resistance," the enclave inhabited by that population, which was besieged by the fundamentalists between 2014 and 2015.

"Kobane became the heart of a country," reads one of the inscriptions. "We do not bow to oppression," adds another text that recalls the final victory of the YPG soldiers, allied with the US army, in that battle.

Just over a decade since the conclusion of a confrontation that took on epic proportions in the memory of the Kurdish people - who dubbed Kobane "the Kurdish Stalingrad" - that same pocket in northern Syria finds itself once again surrounded and engulfed in yet another armed conflict, as a symbol of the huge setback suffered by the autonomous project maintained by the YPG and its allies in the northeast of the Arab country.

In a few days, the so-called Democratic Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria (DAANES) has collapsed, losing control of dozens of villages and cities east of Aleppo, Raqqa, Hasaka, or Deir Ezzor, until being cornered in the area of Qamishli and the aforementioned Kobani.

Additionally, the autonomous entity - which has shrunk from 50,000 square kilometers to just 10,000 - has had to relinquish most of the oil fields that gave it economic viability and the strategic Tabqa dam, the largest in Syria.

"The Autonomous Administration is finished," says Walid Celo from the Al Furat Studies Center in Qamishli, the former "capital" of that project.

According to the Institute for the Study of War, the most extremist Kurdish sectors, those aligned with Öcalan's PKK, are not willing to accept the integration of Rojava into the new Syria - as demanded by President Ahmed Sharaa's government - contradicting the determination of local leader Mazloum Abdi.

The think tank questioned whether both Abdi and Al Sharaa are capable of restraining the most radical sectors of their forces and anticipated an open war with "catastrophic" results, following the precarious ceasefire declared on the 20th.

The advance of the Syrian army on all fronts has revived the war psychosis throughout this region. Kurdish patrols can be seen on the road linking the Iraqi border to Qamishli, sometimes equipped with vehicles mounted with heavy machine guns. Many of these patrols are composed of women.

The same situation occurs in Qamishli, where armed groups guard the main intersections, gathering around improvised bonfires. As evening falls, shortly after five o'clock, most shops close their doors, and the population retreats to their homes.

Tension escalated this Wednesday after an unknown-origin drone struck a hospital in the town. The explosion tore off a piece of the roof, scattering debris around.

"We were very lucky because it didn't hit the gas tank," explained Diliar Shaker, an employee of the Kurdish Red Crescent, located in the health facility.

His office is just a few meters from where the device fell, which fortunately did not cause any casualties. "We heard a buzzing [the drone] and then the explosion. It was 12:30," said Renan, the building's guard and the only person present at that time.

"We don't understand why we have been attacked. This is an orthopedic hospital," Shaker pointed out.

Despite the hypothetical ceasefire, fighting has continued around the Kobane area, where hundreds of thousands of people remain besieged, including thousands of displaced persons fleeing the fighting in Raqqa.

One of the female leaders of the YPG units in that city, Nasrin Abdullah, explained via the internet that the town and the surrounding villages lack electricity, water, and soon "food will be a problem."

"They say there is a ceasefire, but as I speak, they are attacking Kobani. The Turks are actively supporting them. This morning [Thursday] we saw dozens of Turkish armored vehicles on the border [Kobane is located on the border between the two countries]. If this continues, thousands of people will be massacred," she stated.

The Qamishli football field will never be remembered for the sports feats of the teams that played on this stage, but it will always be associated with the tumultuous journey that the Syrian Kurds have had to endure in recent decades.

It was precisely here, during a match between a team from Deir Ezzor and the local team on March 12, 2004, when Kurdish and Arab fans engaged in a violent brawl that led to a popular uprising.

The Kurds set fire to the Baaz party headquarters - the formation that established the dictatorship led by Hafez Assad - and toppled the statue of the deceased autocrat, who had been succeeded by his son, Bashar Assad, four years earlier. The regime's tanks and helicopters crushed the protests, leaving dozens dead and wounded.

The brutal repression ended any doubts about the bloody nature of the new despot, who over the years would overshadow the horrors attributed to his predecessor.

Bashar's fall marked the peak of the Kurdish expansion that advanced in the Aleppo region and took control of the Qamishli sector where regime forces remained.

Throughout the Syrian popular uprising, the city remained under the auspices of Kurdish militias, but they allowed a significant group of regime soldiers to remain stationed in this same district of the town.

The flags of the former regime can still be seen blurred on the walls of several buildings, which until December 2024, were military barracks.

Today, in the old roundabout where a statue of Hafez Assad once stood, the so-called Martyrs' Square can be seen, adorned with portraits of fallen Kurdish soldiers in recent years.

A short distance away, another sign displays the faces of several YPG soldiers who fell in the struggle that took place in the Sheikh Maqsoud neighborhood, the Kurdish stronghold of Aleppo, which was taken over by the government on the 10th.

Not far from here, near the football field, dozens of vans line up with newcomers. They are part of the legion of civilians fleeing the clashes.

A large contingent has settled in the former camp facilities, now the headquarters of the Afrin Displaced Committee, another Kurdish region captured by pro-Turkish factions in 2018.

Here, everyone has fled more than once, and many, like Hussei Yussef, cannot forget the tragic imprint left by all these years of successive wars.

For him, it is more than a mental burden. He lost his right leg in 2014 when he stepped on a mine while fighting in Afrin against IS forces.

"We have already counted more than 5,000 families [over 25,000 people] throughout Rojava. In Qamishli, we have had to accommodate them in almost 70 schools and halls," added Jamal Rashid, another member of the Committee.

Hussein can barely contain his anger. "We have seen this before. The same scenario as in 2014," he says, recalling the conflict of the past decade.

Despite the prosthesis, the Kurd continues to serve as the head of the armed men guarding the stadium. He wears several bullet magazines on his vest.

"We are fed up with the international community! Why do they always treat the Kurds like this?" he proclaims with an increasingly agitated tone. "I don't even trust what you are writing in your notebook," he adds, addressing the journalist.

The Kurdish debacle has radicalized the stance of many members of this community, especially after the shift by the United States, which went from being the main support of local forces to backing the Damascus offensive.

The outrage has spread throughout the international community. The United Nations headquarters in Qamishli has been covered with graffiti and insults. "You are partners of Jabhat al Nusra [the Al Qaeda franchise to which the current Syrian head of state belongs]," claims one of the scribbles.