According to Whom, and by What Standard?

15/07/2026

In response to my article We Live in an Unjust World, I received many different reactions, particularly on X (formerly Twitter). When I was writing the piece, I was aware that it might provoke some criticism, but I did not expect the responses to be that intense. Therefore, as I promised on my X account, I would like to offer a single response to all these reactions.

Yes, the article I wrote was not so much the result of a lengthy, standalone research project. Rather, it was an attempt to present the conclusions drawn from various studies conducted over different periods. That is why I did not expect everyone to fully understand the argument I was making. Naturally, I anticipated responses and criticism. I was not offended by the reactions I received. I was, however, disappointed.

The responses made it clear to me that many people still prefer to remain trapped in the very cycle I highlighted in the article, rather than seeking to understand the issue and engage in a meaningful discussion. As a result, instead of reaching a point of common understanding, we continue to attack one another from opposing positions. I do not wish to engage in a debate conducted in this manner. I believe it is not productive.

On the responses to my article, let me begin by first and foremost making clear that I am not an Orientalist, or anything of that sort. The knowledge I have acquired and the articles I have written are not based on outside information obtained through different schools of thought or external interpretations; they are based on knowledge I have personally witnessed, studied on the ground, and learned from the original sources themselves. Of course, I may read what a certain scholar or writer has written, but I do not take it as my basis.

Instead, I place local sources and lived experiences at the center of my understanding. For example, when researching Urhoy — modern-day Urfa, I do not approach it solely through the accounts of a particular traveler or outsider. Rather, I evaluate it through the Syriac castle (Urhoy Castle) at the heart of the city, its inscriptions, historical remains, and the narratives of the people of Urhoy themselves.

When writing about the region and its people, I do not base my work primarily on the accounts of Western diplomats, missionaries, researchers, or others who came to the region with their own various aims to study and document it. I seek to understand those sources, but my basis comes from the writings of the people who have lived there, the archives of their churches, and the historical structures that, despite the destruction and devastation they have endured, continue to stand as a declaration: “I am still here, despite everything.”

I believe others should also visit, for example, the churches in the centers and villages of Hakkari, Çukurca, and Uludere that have been converted into mosques. Or they should go see the mosaics in Antep and Urfa that date back to the period of the Abgar dynasty in Osroene.

No one needs to explain to me the identity of my people, the culture they carry, or the works they have created. Perhaps this is why I do not place value on the claims of travelers and researchers who may have never actually visited the region, never interacted with the people who live there, and yet passed through briefly before declaring, “this people are such,” or “the origins of this community are such,” i.e. those whom you refer to as “Orientalists.” I know very well who the Syriacs are and who the term “Nestorian” refers to. Because I am Syriac myself. I have studied my geography, my history, and my culture. Among what I have learned are facts that are as clear and certain as the statement that two plus two equals four.

Some responses argued that, “the fact that Syriacs and Armenians are older inhabitants than Kurds and Muslim communities in cities such as Bitlis, Van, Mardin, and Diyarbakir does not make these cities ‘Armenian’ or ‘Syriac’ cities.” In that case, I would ask the following question: What exactly is it that makes these cities and places such as Arba’ilo (Erbil), Nohadra (Duhok), Urhoy (Urfa), Mabbug (Manbij), and similar others, “Kurdish cities”? Is it political sovereignty? The population currently living there? Or is it simply “blind nationalism”?

The answer I was seeking in my article was, in fact, the answer to these very questions. By what criteria do we define a place and its identity? For example, does calling Urhoy “Riha” or Arba’ilo (Erbil) “Hewler” automatically make these cities Kurdish cities? Likewise, does renaming Anhil (a place with at least 2,000 years of Syriac history) as “Yemişli” make it Turkish land, or calling it “Nıhele” make it Kurdish land? The issue is not merely about names, it is about the criteria by which we understand history, identity, and belonging.

No, ethnic cleansing in the region in question did not occur only during the 1915 Genocide. However, before discussing this, we need to clarify what we mean by “ethnic cleansing.” In my view, ethnic cleansing is not limited to the physical extermination of an entire people. For example, during periods when language and culture were the defining elements of identity, banning a language and attempting to impose another as dominant can also be considered a form of cultural genocide. Likewise, during periods when religion was the primary marker of identity, forcing people to adopt another faith by the sword was also a form of genocide. In this context, the conversion of places of worship, especially churches, into mosques is also part of a genocidal process.

In the region under discussion, the Macedonians, followed by the Roman-Byzantine authorities, and later Arab-Islamic powers, carried out repeated forms of ethnic and cultural cleansing in this sense, even if they were not described as “legal genocide” in contemporary terms. Later, the Mongols, Turkic tribes, and Kurdish rulers who arrived in the region carried out repeated massacres and pressured communities to abandon their identities and beliefs. The 1915 Genocide was the final large-scale genocide in this broader historical trajectory across the region. However, the same logic of genocide and ethnic cleansing continued afterward. In 1924 with the Hakkari events and the Nestorian Expulsion, in 1933 with the Simele massacre in Iraq, and most recently in 2014 with Islamic State (ISIS) attacks against the Nineveh Plains and northern Syria (Gozarto). This pattern has continued. It continues today.

I would also like to briefly address the issue of available historical sources. Yes, there are many different sources from the past that have survived to the present day. However, many of these sources do not necessarily reflect objective realities. Rather, they often contain narratives shaped according to the wishes and permissions of those who held power. After all, “history is not written by those who are right, but by those who are powerful or victorious.” Those who possess power and emerge as victors have rarely allowed information that contradicts their interests to reach future generations. Yet, despite all these attempts, historical truths continue to emerge, through oral traditions passed down over generations, through a forgotten tablet buried somewhere, or through inscriptions carved into stones that survived the destruction of buildings and were pushed beneath the surface of the earth.

Based on these revealed historical realities, we know that the region stretching between the Zagros Mountains and the Mediterranean Sea, today inhabited predominantly by Muslims (Arabs, Turks, and Kurds), is historically and traditionally the homeland of the Syriac people. However, this region, particularly from the third century BC onward, began to receive new waves of settlers. Many of these new groups, especially those who settled in the area between the Zagros Mountains and the Tigris River, were referred to in Syriac, Assyrian, Akkadian, and Sumerian inscriptions with terms such as Kirt, Kirti, Kurt, and Kurti, words generally understood to mean “mountain people” or “those from the mountains.”

Yes, from Sumerian times to the present day, numerous written sources contain terms such as Kardo, Kurti, Kirti, Kiritho, Kardoye, Kurtoye, Kıryoye, and Kıryawotho. In numbers too vast to count. However, these terms are not, as some have built extensive theories upon them, the name of a single people, a tribe, or an ethnic designation. Although written differently across the languages and dialects mentioned above, “Kardo” refers to a mountain name. “Kardoye” refers to the people living around that mountain, just as those living in Nineveh were called “Ninvoye,” and those living in Tur Abdin were known as “Turoye.”

Likewise, terms such as Kirt, Kirti, Kurt, and Kurti were not originally ethnic designations. Words such as Kıryo (villager), Kiritho (village), and Kıryoye/Kırmanç (villagers), which evolved from Sumerian through Akkadian and Aramaic and later became part of modern Syriac, were also not ethnic labels. Therefore, these terms, which originally referred to different concepts and descriptions, evolved over time into ethnic identifiers and came to represent a people in the modern sense. For this reason, the appearance of any of these words in historical documents does not necessarily refer to the people who today identify themselves ethnically as “Kurds.” The people who are today identified ethnically as “Kurds”, however, are an Iranian (Aryan) people who have inhabited the Zagros region since ancient times. Over the centuries, they expanded and settled across the surrounding geography, and this process of settlement unfortunately occurred at the expense of the Syriac people.

I want to note that there are numerous studies conducted and publications produced by many researchers and historians. One such study is the Ethno-Linguistic Map of the Territory of Modern Turkey around the Year Zero. Of course, none of these studies are flawless, and this study also contains several shortcomings.1 However, as this research indicates, Kurds were not the majority population in the geography that is today referred to as Kurdistan at the beginning of the Common Era. In fact, in some areas, their presence was not recorded at all.

At the same time, we know very well that before the Islamic conquests, massacres, and processes of Islamization began in the seventh century, much of the Middle East and North Africa was predominantly Christian. The people living in these regions, many of which were part of the Eastern Roman (Byzantine) Empire, primarily spoke Syriac (Aramaic-Akkadian), Hebrew, Coptic (an ancient Egyptian language), Armenian, and Greek.

In conclusion, whether one accepts it or not, the historical reality is that many cities that are today identified as Arab, Kurdish, or Turkish were founded, inhabited, and developed by the Syriac people. These cities later also became home to new groups of settlers. Some arrived a thousand years ago, others five hundred years ago, and again others a century ago. Unfortunately, these new populations did not always live together with the original inhabitants on equal and peaceful terms. At different times, through warfare, massacres, assimilation, and policies of oppression, intimidation, and forced displacement, they gradually pushed aside the communities that had founded and developed these cities. As a result of these processes, many cities in the region today have populations that are either entirely or predominantly Kurdish, Turkish, or Arab.

My intention is not to question history by asking, “Why did all of this happen?” However, refusing to question historical events does not mean that we should distance ourselves from historical realities. The reality is that these lands had their own indigenous inhabitants, original owners. Then new groups arrived and attempted to claim these lands as their own and reshape them according to their interests. Not everyone is obliged to accept the same interpretation of history. However, those who claim to be defenders of truth, who say they reject denial, and who insist that they do not engage in “blind nationalism,” should at the very least show respect for the facts, for history, human effort, and the values inherited from the past.

This article was originally published in Turkish by Gazete Sabro on 12 July 2026. The original can be found here.

The views expressed in this op-ed are solely those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of SyriacPress.

Notes

[1] (Tuma Çelik): According to my assessment, at the beginning of the Common Era (Year 0), the region of Northern Mesopotamia stretching from Antioch to the Zagros Mountains was dominated by two kingdoms: the Kingdom of Osroene (Abgar), with its capital at Urhoy (Urfa) (132 BC–242 AD), and the Kingdom of Adiabene, centered in Arba’ilo (Erbil). The overwhelming majority of the population of these kingdoms consisted of Syriacs (Arameans–Assyrians–Chaldeans). Their language was Akkadian-Aramaic, the linguistic basis from which Syriac later developed.In this region, particularly along the foothills of the Zagros Mountains, there were relatively small Iranian-Kurdish communities. However, these groups were not the dominant population, neither linguistically nor in any other respect. Consequently, I believe the information presented on the Ethno-Linguistic Map of the Territory of Modern Turkey around the Year Zero regarding this region is incomplete.

The information relating to Arabs in the Urfa region is also incomplete and contains inaccuracies.

According to my own research, the principal shortcomings of the map are as follows:

1. The areas shown in white and marked as “0,” located to the south and west of Lake Van, were inhabited predominantly by Syriacs, whose language was the Syriac language, represented on the map by language groups 34 and 35.
2. Likewise, in the area south of Lake Van marked as “23” and identified as Kurdish, the majority of the population was, in my view, Syriac, and the Syriac was spoken there.
3. The region southeast of Lake Van, marked as “24”. Although the southern part had a mixed population, Syriacs remained the predominant community, and Syriac was the principal language.
4. In the area designated as “25,” south of Lake Van, there were Armenians, but there was also a substantial Syriac population. Accordingly, both Armenian and Syriac were spoken there. This also applies (albeit not to the same extent) to the area east of Lake Van.
5. In the region around Urfa marked as “33,” it is possible to speak of a Christianized Arab population (though not a majority). But this is valid only from the fourth and fifth centuries onward. Therefore, at the beginning of the Common Era, the population of the region was predominantly Syriac. In fact, at that time, the region was one of the principal Syriac centers.