WHO CAN TRUST AMERICA NOW?
Laois native and YPG volunteer Joshua Molloy tells how the US betrayal of their one-time Kurdish allies means more carnage and chaos
IT was early morning in the spring of 2015 when I felt my first shockwave. I was a 23-year-old international volunteer, battling alongside Kurdish YPG forces in Syria when an American airstrike struck the Isil-held village opposite our bullet-ridden outpost.
We rushed outside and jumped on top of the wall to watch thick black smoke bleeding into the air. While shielding our eyes from the sun to try to spot the tiny jet fighter in the sky, I turned to a Kurdish fighter watching the burning rubble through the broken half of binoculars like a telescope.
“Heval Obama!” he cried, with a beaming smile and a thumbs up, “very good! Very, very good!”
In the YPG, “Heval” means comrade or friend. It’s a respectful title used for both male and female comrades, and how we would greet one another in passing. It’s how we would get the attention of a YPG fighter if we didn’t know their name. It’s what we would anxiously call out to one another on our cheap radios, with a desperate “Heval?” emerging through broken clouds of static, to see if anybody was still left out there any more.
To be called a Heval was no small thing, but as an outsider politically and culturally, as well as being segregated by a language barrier, it took me a while to understand what it truly meant to be a Heval. To be a Heval wasn’t to necessarily be ideologically aligned with the YPG. You didn’t have to understand the political writings of Abdullah Ocalan. You didn’t have to be Kurdish human rights activist. In fact, you didn’t even have to be Kurdish. To be a Heval, was to simply be “one of us”.
The relationship between the YPG and Heval Obama was one born out of realpolitik, with the YPG providing Washington with the only well-organised and highly motivated ally capable of taking the fight to Islamic State (Isil) in Syria. On the ground, among the dust-covered YPG Hevals in the trenches, the feeling was that our US partners shared similar values and ideals. Despite failing to influence outcomes in Iraq and Afghanistan, here in northern Syria, the Americans had found themselves on the morally right and winning side. While pursuing their own interests, defeating Isil to bring stability to the region, they were also supporting the democratic project of local forces. Something that aligned very well with the ideals they often pledged to promote.
Whatever people may believe about the true nature of state interests, it was here that it felt like the Americans had found their footing again. On long nights holding the line against Isil in abandoned villages, the roar of fighter jets in the clouds and humming engines of an AC-130 gunship floating through the air were a reassuring reminder that we had Hevals in the sky above us. They watched over us as we slept on flea-ridden blankets in the dirt. And as we drifted off to a half-sleep to the white noise of American airpower, it felt like we were in the same struggle together for democratic ideals in the face of totalitarianism.
When the SDF was formed in October 2015, shifting reliance away from an all-Kurdish force by incorporating Arab fighters into the coalition’s counter Isil strategy, the Arabs and Assyrian Christians became important Hevals, too. And with the help of Heval Obama, we liberated al Hawl, Tishrin and Shaddadi, towns with Arab populations fearful of Kurdish domination. Arab fighters from these liberated areas then joined the SDF, controlled their own local security and affairs, and pushed further into Isil territory with a snowball like effect, tearing down the black flags and turning the map from black to yellow with each step. The hope was that by including non YPG forces in the counter Isil strategy in Syria, the US could appease Turkey’s concerns regarding the PKK-affiliated YPG, while at the same time, engage in a realistic and sensible strategy that could provide stable governance for areas freed from Isil.
Cobbling together a multi-ethnic ground force of local fighters and using a strategy of maximum air power worked brilliantly, and provided a blueprint for future interventions in a world where the US sought to maintain a lighter military footprint. And it seemed that while American ambitions to recreate models of democracy and respect for human rights had failed elsewhere, here in northern Syria — under the feminist and egalitarian society being built by their allies — that things were going quite well. Despite it all never being part of the Americans’ plan.
The invasion of northern Syria by Turkish-backed forces has done much more than undo all of this hard work. It has unleashed total chaos on the area.
In just several dramatic days, Isil activated cells across the region, exploiting the chaos with a wave of bombings and attacks on the SDF. Meanwhile, significant unrest within several Isil prison camps saw hundreds, perhaps thousands, escape.
Airstrikes and shelling killed Kurdish civilians and caused mass displacement as those who lived near the border fled for their lives.
Footage emerged of Turkish-backed forces executing Kurds at the side of the road. And American troops were even fired upon by Turkey, in what former presidential envoy Brett McGurk described as “not a mistake”.
With all major Kurdish cities straddling the Turkish border, the SDF were being forced into a brutal confrontation they did not want. Turkish plans to resettle millions of refugees along the Syrian border were viewed as an attempt to ethnically cleanse the region, creating an existential threat for the Kurds. Their only choice was to defend their cities or to flee south into the desert.
The American withdrawal ordered by Donald Trump effectively gave Turkey the green light to invade their allies. But to make the betrayal worse, in the weeks beforehand the US monitored the destruction of YPG defences along the Turkish border in a plan to ease tensions with Ankara — something that backfired on the Kurds when they were abandoned, with SDF General Mazloum Abdi solemnly commenting: “We are now standing with our chests bare to face the Turkish knives.”
Desperate for survival, the SDF has been forced to make a deal with Russia and the Syrian regime, a regime that has imprisoned and tortured several of my former Hevals. With no leverage in negotiations due to their desperation and lack of US support, the SDF is making tough concessions that effectively put an end to the autonomous region known as Rojava. And as the US withdraws, bombing its own bases and passing the entering Russian convoys on the roads, they will leave behind the scattered remnants of Isil amidst a chaotic and unpredictable war that has the potential to cause widespread instability. Worst of all, they are nulling the sacrifice made by the many friends of mine who were killed fighting against Isil who now, it appears, may have died for nothing.
But even forgetting about the second rise of Isil, the mass displacement, ethnic cleansing, humanitarian catastrophe and the moral tragedy of betraying the Hevals, 11,000 of whom have been killed by Isil, the real damage will be seen in the decades ahead. If Trump wanted to end pointless wars in the Middle East, he needed to ensure that he didn’t burn the model for future interventions with local forces. In a future where the US sought out a lighter military footprint and an end to “endless wars”, being seen as a trusted partner to do business with was the only way forward.
Now, the next time the US needs to roll out the blueprint again for what had once been dubbed the “most successful non-conventional military operation in history”, they might not be able to find any Hevals willing to work with them any more.
‘In just several dramatic days, Isil activated cells across the region, exploiting the chaos’