Relearning peace in Turkey

In Turkey, after years of political paralysis, movement has returned to the long and painful conflict with the Kurdish movement. Following decades of violence, mutual alienation and broken hopes, faint but significant signals suggest that a new chapter may be within reach. The withdrawal of Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK) fighters from Turkish territory and early indications of possible disarmament give this moment a seriousness that has long been absent. Yet the path toward a lasting peace remains precarious.

The conflict is no longer only domestic, it is entangled in a transformed Middle East.

In Syria, Kurdish forces historically linked to parts of the PKK fought alongside the United States against the so called Islamic State (ISIS). They established political structures in the north that now stand in tension with the interim government led by Ahmad Shar Colani. Ankara views this with growing unease, aware that regional shifts may overshadow or distort any future peace process. Inside Turkey, nationalist groups and political hardliners are mobilizing as well, reviving old threats and deepening mistrust.

The struggle over fear and memory has already begun, long before negotiations can take shape.

I have witnessed in Turkey, Iraq, Syria and other countries in the Middle East how violence tears families, neighbourhoods and entire communities apart, and how slow and painful healing can be. Peace is not born at the negotiation table, it begins in the minds of those who have suffered. The crucial question now is whether Turkish society is ready and able to sustain a process of reconciliation. Recognizing suffering, ensuring justice, preventing renewed violence, enabling genuine encounters and imagining a shared future are not philosophical ideals but conditions of political survival.

A look at earlier attempts reveals that hope has emerged before. Ocalan’s Newroz message in 2013, the Imralı talks and the Dolmabahce document in 2015 all opened windows that closed just as quickly. Their collapse exposed a painful truth: dialogue cannot survive when mistrust and political competition crush its foundations. The unresolved burdens of the past – unacknowledged victims, economic scars, collective trauma – were never fully addressed. No society can negotiate its future while refusing to confront its past.

Against this backdrop, the newly established Commission for National Reconciliation led by Parliamentary Speaker Numan Kurtulmus carries unusual weight. Its mandate to build bridges between state, society and minority communities could offer a credible institutional framework, but only if it works independently, embraces plural voices and draws on professional expertise. Peace is not just a political project, it is also a psychological transformation. Societies living in conflict for decades develop hardened narratives that normalise hostility, weaken empathy and delegitimise compromise. Without deliberate engagement with collective memory, trust will remain a fleeting promise. A Turkish Kurdish policy of remembrance, reflected in schools, media and cultural institutions, could help break this cycle.

Justice must be central. Experiences from South Africa, Northern Ireland and Colombia show that truth seeking, reparations and accountability only work when victims are treated as active agents rather than symbolic figures. For Turkey, independent truth commissions with regional hearings and victim advisory councils could mark a decisive step. Reconciliation without justice is not reconciliation, it is erasure.

Equally vital is the creation of encounters that are sincere and respectful. Joint educational programmes, economic partnerships and local reconstruction initiatives can reduce prejudice when based on genuine cooperation. Peace also requires a psychosocial infrastructure that protects and empowers those living with the legacy of violence, including counselling centres, safe spaces for women and children and trauma informed support. Political guarantees form the soil in which trust can take root. Without rule of law, peace is nothing more than a fragile pause in conflict. Fair political competition, local self governance, cultural rights and transparent security reforms are essential pillars of stability. Ultimately, the challenge is not simply to reintegrate the PKK; it is to redefine how Kurds, Turks and other groups imagine their shared future.

One of the most sensitive but unavoidable issues concerns the reintegration of former PKK fighters. Those who sincerely renounce violence must be offered legal and social pathways to return, rehabilitation and participation. Without such paths, peace remains one sided and therefore fragile. Colombia and Northern Ireland show that conditional amnesties, restorative justice approaches and reintegration programmes can succeed when they are transparent and include victims in meaningful ways. A democracy is measured not by how it treats its allies, but by how it reintegrates those who once fought against it. A Turkey willing to take this step signals readiness to welcome back the sons and daughters of the country as citizens rather than enemies.

Reconciliation begins when people feel their suffering is acknowledged and when justice becomes concrete. Encounters become transformative when they are experienced not as burdens but as steps toward cooperation. A genuine peace process is more than a ceasefire, it is a new vision of the nation. A Turkish Kurdish peace process that brings together political reform and psychological healing can become the foundation of a shared identity that treats diversity not as a threat but as a resource. A pluralistic Turkey would send a powerful message across the region: peace in the Middle East does not begin with force, but with empathy, remembrance and the courage to embrace humanity.

Dr. Jan Ilhan Kizilhan is a psychologist, author and publisher, an expert in psychotraumatology, trauma, terror and war, transcultural psychiatry, psychotherapy and migration.

The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of Rudaw.