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“We have no village to return to in Kurdistan”: Kurdish podcaster Mehmet Uğur Korkmaz speaks to Medyascope

Turkey’s metropole-dwelling Kurds stand at the epicenter of sociopolitical debates, and are increasingly seen as an electoral juggernaut with every election cycle. Yet within the Kurdish sphere itself, there is ongoing debate as to what extent they have become assimilated and ‘Turkified’. Medyascope discussed these tensions and the nature of metropolitan Kurdishness with Mehmet Uğur Korkmaz, whose podcast *Kürtler Şehirde* (Kurds in the City) has garnered widespread acclaim.

Kurdish identity in metropolitan areas, especially Istanbul, is complex and evolving, influenced by assimilation and the urban experience.

The podcast *Kürtler Şehirde* aims to document and explore these tensions, fostering a sense of community among young Kurds.

‘Turkification’ for many means living authentically as oneself without imposed identities, challenging state narratives.

Cultural production in cities transforms traditional Kurdish identities, leading to new aspirations and expressions.

The ongoing Kurdish peace process holds both hope and fear, emphasizing the importance of inclusive peace for all communities in Turkey.

By Mehmet Tatlı • Medyascope Contributor

What does the name “Kurds in the City” mean? If we go back to the early days, what specific need gave rise to the podcast?

There are actually a few foundational sentiments at play. One is my own personal story: I grew up as the child of a Turkish mother and a Kurdish father. During my early youth, depending on the context, I would sometimes suddenly become “Kurdish” and at other times “Turkish.”

As I became more politically conscious, I began to position myself increasingly within a Kurdish identity. This process compelled me to reflect on the experience of “becoming Kurdish”—questions such as: What is a Kurd? Who qualifies as a Kurd? Is this identity innate, or is it a political state of being?

Another foundational sentiment was the fact that so much of what we were experiencing was going largely undocumented, and that a broad segment of society in Turkey remained completely unaware of these experiences. This state of invisibility intensified my need to tell this story.

The third—and perhaps most defining—sentiment stemmed from the observations regarding the city found right at the very beginning of the PKK’s founding manifesto. In that text, the city was depicted as a monster lying in wait to devour the Kurds. Yet, looking at the situation today, Kurds largely reside in cities—and, crucially, they still manage to remain “Kurdish.” I wanted to delve a little deeper into this contradiction.

Which segments of society make up the majority of your audience? What kind of bond has formed between you and your listeners?

My listeners are predominantly young Kurds—young people who feel invisible, who struggle to establish a direct connection with their Kurdish identity or the Kurdish freedom movement, and who, as a result, tend to hold back or conceal their identity.

The feedback I receive and the relationships I’ve built suggest that the podcast has had a healing effect on its listeners. I believe that realizing they aren’t the only ones to have gone through similar traumatic experiences provides them with a sense of relief. And I end up becoming friends with almost all of them. Whenever I visit a city, I invariably sit down with a listener—just to chat, hang out, grab a bite to eat… My listeners even form friendships with one another, independent of me. We are more than just friends; we function almost like a solidarity network. We consult one another, confide in each other, and work together to find solutions. We are growing and evolving together. It is a truly wonderful feeling, and I strive to prove myself worthy of it.

What is “Turkification”?

For me, ‘Turkification’ is about being able to live out my own identity. It is the right to exist with this identity—and to make my own decisions—without being compelled to live out a supra-identity, culture, or ideology defined and imposed by the state. Consequently, it is not a centralized or monolithic concept.

Despite a regime that declared Istanbul Turkish the official language of instruction while excluding all other languages, dialects, and vernaculars, a person who speaks Turkish using their own regional accent is, in fact, just as much of a ‘Turk’ as anyone else. In other words, being Turkish does not equate to being from Istanbul, urban, modern, or highly educated. Viewed from this perspective, we—as various peoples—suffer from no deficiency or disadvantage. For we can be both Kurdish and ‘Turkish’.

Do you believe that Istanbul—home to approximately 5 million Kurds—will emerge as a new center for the reorganization of Kurdish identity?

Both historically and practically, Istanbul is the largest and most diverse city in the region. In fact, I have always felt that, rather than being merely a city of the Turkish Republic, it remains, in essence, an Ottoman city. This is because, ever since the founding of the Republic, while a monolithic mindset sought to homogenize all cities—thereby suppressing distinct identities and cultures—Istanbul evolved into a sanctuary where these very identities could take refuge. Today, all the peoples of Anatolia—Syriacs, Armenians, Kurds—as well as immigrants from Central Asia and Eastern Europe, constitute integral elements of this city. Although prejudices certainly exist, everyone here is accustomed to encountering one another. Consequently, it is impossible to construct a national identity here in isolation—detached from all these interactions and confined within a closed-off, insular form. As evidenced by the political movements of the late Ottoman era, Istanbul is—quite naturally—the place where the interaction among diverse peoples and political currents reaches its zenith. Therefore, the identity and political movements that emerge from this milieu will be multilingual, vibrant, and dynamic—in short, they will be inclusive; indeed, they must be.

To what extent can cultural production processes in metropoles transform traditional Kurdish identity?

Culture, as a phenomenon that changes very slowly due to various reasons such as geography and climate. And if you live in a rapidly capitalist place, your culture also changes rapidly. Indeed, all the peoples of Turkey have experienced this. The geography, which is the most basic determinant of culture for everyone, has also changed with migrations from villages to cities. Is the Kurdish freedom movement and the Kurdish women’s movement and image organized around it, for example, a result of something inherent about Kurdishness? If so, why isn’t there such a strong women’s movement in other parts of Kurdistan? Or how possible is it for a new musician to mention the birds and plants mentioned in old folk songs when they don’t exist in the city?

If we act with the anxiety of preserving or remaining faithful to an imaginary “Kurdishness,” we create a person trapped between the past and the future. Kurds in metropolitan areas—that is, us and future generations—will organize themselves according to their needs and aspirations, transforming their identity accordingly. This is inevitable. What is crucial here is resisting the assimilationist mindset that takes over and marginalizes Kurds. That, too, is partly a matter of politics.

For many years, Kurdish politics viewed the metropoles as “temporary” spaces, attempting to cultivate a political psychology centered on a “return to Kurdistan.” As we enter the 2020s, to what extent does this psychology still resonate within the Kurdish communities of metropolitan Turkey?

It is a kind of state of homelessness—a condition, I suppose, similar to that of immigrants from Turkey living in Germany. Most of us no longer have a village to which we can return and settle down. And even if such a place still exists, the lifestyle there is not one to which we could adapt. Yet, many of our parents still harbor the dream of returning once they retire—and indeed, some do return. We, the generation born and raised in the cities, however, have found ourselves—for better or worse—stuck right here. It is a state characterized simultaneously by a sense of being hemmed in and a sense of liberation. In the city, just as you are free to assert your own existence, you are also “free” to undergo assimilation.

How do you assess the political representation of this “metropolitan Kurdishness”? As someone born and raised in Istanbul, what observations have you made on this topic?

That is a very difficult question for me to answer—perhaps even one that exceeds my grasp. Nevertheless, let me attempt to address it. First, it is necessary to unpack the concept of “metropolitan Kurdishness,” for it is by no means a singular or monolithic identity. Take, for instance, Kurdish Alevis: even this category is not internally uniform; a Kurdish Alevi from Maraş, for example, may possess a vastly different political identity and way of life compared to a Kurdish Alevi from Dersim or Malatya. It is possible to extend this spectrum of diversity even further.

Despite this heterogeneity, there was—for a time—a political project capable of bringing together these disparate segments of the spectrum and generating a shared sense of collective enthusiasm: the Peoples’ Democratic Party (HDP). This project served as the very........

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