Turkey's ruling alliance is expected to submit a draft law to parliament on Wednesday that would facilitate the disbandment of the Kurdistan Workers Party by allowing the return of thousands of former militants, with state media and a party leader presenting it as a route to end a decades-old conflict. The machinery is familiar: armed conflict on one side, parliamentary paperwork on the other, and ordinary people left to be processed through the system either way.
The State's Paper Solution
The draft law, some details of which surfaced last November, focuses on managing the return of PKK fighters and civilians from hideouts in northern Iraq. It sets out how they will be processed through the justice system and reintegrated into society. That is the language of administration, not liberation. The state names the categories, draws the borders, and decides who gets folded back in under what conditions.
Lawmakers are expected to approve the legal framework this week. Turkish officials are treating that as a leap toward ending an insurgency that has killed more than 40,000 people since 1984, sown deep discord at home, and fueled violence across borders in Iraq and Syria. The bill has broad support in parliament, even though polls show some skepticism that it will bring lasting peace and sensitivities remain around the return to Turkey of former PKK members. The vote may move quickly. The underlying monopoly on force remains untouched.
Turkish President Tayyip Erdogan's ruling AK Party and its nationalist MHP allies have signed the draft legislation, dubbed “national solidarity and social integration,” while the pro-Kurdish DEM Party and most other parties, including the main opposition, have voiced support for it. Abdullah Guler, the AKP's parliamentary group head, told reporters the bill will be submitted on Wednesday. Everyone gets a seat at the table. The table still belongs to the state.
Who Gets Managed
The peace process between Turkey, which has NATO's second-largest army, and the PKK began in late 2024, but came to a near standstill earlier this year due to the Iran war and concerns about broader regional instability. That pause says plenty. Regional shocks can stall the choreography, but they don't change the basic arrangement: armed institutions negotiate over populations, and civilians absorb the consequences when the process freezes.
The PKK decided in May last year to disarm and disband after an appeal from its jailed leader Abdullah Ocalan. It is designated a terrorist organization by Turkey, the United States, and the European Union. That label does the usual diplomatic work. It sorts legitimate violence from illegitimate violence according to the needs of states, not according to the people who live under them. The same international system that condemns one armed actor also helps sustain the broader order that makes these conflicts durable.
The PKK launched its insurgency in 1984 and initially sought an independent Kurdish state in southeast Turkey, but later refocused on seeking autonomy and Kurdish political rights. The shift in aims didn't end the logic of command. It only changed the banner. Across the decades, the conflict has remained trapped between rival hierarchies, with the state on one side and an armed movement on the other, while the people caught in between are told that another legal framework might finally settle things.
The draft law's title, “national solidarity and social integration,” sounds like the kind of phrase governments use when they want to make coercion look like reconciliation. The bill would process former militants and civilians through the justice system and reintegrate them into society. That means the state gets to decide who is forgiven, who is monitored, and who is allowed back through the gate. The conflict may be old. The apparatus is very much alive.