Kurdish team’s support for Kobane sparks Swedish FA ire
James M. DorseyWhen Ramazan Kızıl established Dalkurd FF, one of Europe’s most successful immigrant football teams, in a remote town in northern Sweden, he dreamt of one day raising the Swedish and Kurdish flags alongside one another in a European championship.
These days, Kızıl’s goals are more immediate: aiding embattled Kurdish fighters fending off attacks by the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL) on the Syrian-Turkish border town of Kobane.
Kızıl’s Dalkurd sparked anger in the Swedish Football Federation (SFF), further fuelling debate within the international sports community about the relationship between sports and politics and focused attention on the blowback of a conflict in the Middle East and North Africa on migrant communities in Europe, when the club flashed a sign saying ‘Save Kobane’ during a recent match. The club based in Borlänge, an iron and paper mill town 300 kilometers north of Stockholm, raised 3,000 euros during the match for Kobane that has been a focus of the U.S.-led war on ISIL for more than a month.
Against the backdrop of efforts by International Olympic Committee (IOC) President Thomas Bach to acknowledge the intimate relationship between sports and politics in a break with the sport world’s long-standing insistence that the two are separate, Ramazan Kızıl described his club’s support for Kobane in an interview with Rudaw as “human solidarity.”
In response to the SFF’s description of the support for Kobane as “political,” he retorted: “We do not care about their warnings or any eventual penalties.” Adil Kızıl, Ramazan Kızıl’s son and Dalkurd’s sports manager, added: “We can’t just sit and watch while Kobane gets massacred. We must do something.”
Some 200,000 people have fled Kobane, mostly to Turkey, in the last six weeks.
The dispute over the nature of Dalkurd’s support for Kobane raises the question of what the border line is, if there is one, between humanitarian and political aid to groups in distress as a result of conflict, as well as the double standards applied by some Western nations toward foreign fighters in the Syrian conflict. Most Western nations have sought to criminalize those of their nationals who join ISIL as foreign fighters. Some like the Netherlands, however, appear to exempt those who join the Kurds in their fight against the Islamist group.
The distinction between good and bad foreign fighters is likely to loom ever larger. Dalkurd’s support for the Kurdish fight against ISIL reflects a new resolve among Kurds across Europe, as well as a revival of Kurdish hopes for independence. Across Scandinavia, home to many Kurds, groups have demonstrated for Kobane and sought to aid the U.S.-backed Kurdish fighters trying to hold onto the city.
Scores of young German Kurds have joined the outlawed Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK), a group that long championed the ideal of a pan-Kurdish state that would be carved out of Kurdish regions in Turkey, Iraq, Syria and Iran. The group – condemned by Turkey, the European Union and the United States as a terrorist organization – has since lowered its sights to demanding full rights within Turkey in stalled negotiations with the Turkish government.
Sabri Ok, a PKK leader, recently told German magazine Der Spiegel: “The new generation is different from us older people. They are more radical. They have seen the war in Kurdistan and their brothers and sisters have died in Syria. It will be difficult to control them.”
For many Kurds, the battle for Kobane, once a secular, democratic Kurdish-governed enclave, represents their aspirations. The fall of Kobane, PKK officials warn, would fuel Kurdish resistance and could revive the Kurdish insurgency in southeastern Turkey in which some 40,000 people have died since 1984.
The changing Kurdish landscape was highlighted this week with Turkey allowing a convoy of 150 vehicles carrying heavy weaponry and armed Iraqi Kurdish Peshmerga fighters to traverse its territory en route to Kobane to strengthen their Syrian Kurdish brethren.
Dalkurd, one of three Swedish clubs that have fielded Europe’s most successful immigrant teams, was initially launched as a project to create jobs for youth. Dalkurd’s Swedish identity is clearly identifiable on maps; its minority Kurdish identity is not. That makes Dalkurd as much a product of the social and economic challenges facing immigrants in Sweden and elsewhere in Europe as it is of the carve-up of the Ottoman Empire in the early 20th century that turned Kurds into the largest nation without a homeland, and scattered them across the Middle East and the globe.
Dalkurd’s initial players were Kurdish migrants and refugees, and their descendants. Turkish Kurdish immigrants moved to Europe in search of more fertile economic pastures and to escape the suppression of their cultural identity and political rights in Turkey. Dalkurd co-founder Elvan Cicen said instinctively the founders had thought of naming the club Kurdistan, but on reflection opted for Dalkurd: Dal for Dalarna, the region where Borlänge is located, and Kurd for Kurdistan. Dalarna’s famous wooden horses frame the yellow sun on the red, white and green Kurdish flag that the club adopted as its own.
“We are both Kurdish and Swedish. Football is our tool to integrate people. We took kids off the streets and away from the gangs. Everybody blamed the kids. But the real problem was the parents, who often were analphabets. The kids lived in different worlds in school and at home. The parents didn’t see what was happening and the kids weren’t integrated. We started involving the parents,” Cicen said. Dalkurd players have become role models in local high schools. They have sparked a cultural revolution, inspiring girls to form their own team with the support of Dalkurd managers who seek to overcome the objections put forward by conservative parents.
In interviews, Kurdish members of Dalkurd’s board do not hide their empathy for the PKK. Officials in Iraqi Kurdistan, where the PKK has bases, suggested that the group had helped fund Dalkurd, a claim the club’s executives deny. Nevertheless, Ramazan Kızıl, a Kurdish immigrant from Turkey, was sentenced in 2010 in absentia to 10 months in prison in his homeland after giving a speech in his native Kurdish and campaigning on behalf of a pro-Kurdish political party.
Dalkurd’s leadership, much like that of other immigrant communities, draws a distinction between integration and assimilation.
“Integration is not assimilation. It’s learning a new culture without losing one’s own. Even if we had Kurdistan, I wouldn’t move there. Sure, my parents didn’t come here to be Swedes. They socialize only with the Kurdish part of Dalkurd. I’m trying to learn from both cultures. Having two cultures is being richer. We would lose if we were only a Kurdish team. They call us the Kurdish national team. That is not a problem but we don’t close the door to other people,” Cicen said.