HannibalBarca
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Turkish Peace Operations in Syria (Operation Olive Branch) Updates & Discussions
- Thread starter KediKesenFare3
- Start date
Agha Sher
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I don't understand why this baboon would tell such a lie to his soldiers. Especially considering that Assad's soldiers at the frontline are poorly trained and equipped. If they think they are being attacked by Turkish or US SOF, they will start running faster than Usain Bolt. None of the regime soldiers have the heart to stand up against Turkish or US SOF!
UkroTurk
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The rise of Rojava
Who will rule the north?
KOBANE AND RAQ QA
The Kurds are tightening their grip on northern Syria. But enemies lurk nearby
The kurds have their own name for
northern Syria: Rojava, which means
where the sun sets. For decades that
seemed fitting. Arab nationalists pushed
them off their land and suppressed their
language. Then came the jihadists of Islam-
ic State (is). War with them levelled cities.
But with is defeated those cities are rising
again. One of the largest, Kobane, is bigger
and taller than before. It sports a towering
war memorial and is hosting its second art
fair. “We’ve had enough of the pain,” says
Brivan Hammoush, a landscape artist.
Over the course of Syria’s multi-sided
civil war, which began in 2011, the Kurds
captured a third of the country (see map).
In 2016 they declared their own autono-
mous region in Rojava, which contains
most of Syria’s oilfields, its highest dams
and its bread basket. Trade routes as old as
the Silk Road run through the territory.
Such valuable land is a boon to Rojava’s
Kurdish-led administration. But it also at-
tracts enemies. As they rebuild their re-
gion, the Kurds face threats, at home and
from abroad. And many fear their strongest
ally, America, will abandon them at the
drop of a tweet.
For now things are looking up. Fighting,
sanctions and a lack of funds stymie recon-
struction in most of Syria, but juggernauts
loaded with diggers and cement queue for
miles at Rojava’s border with Iraq. Convoys
of petrol tankers ply the highways to Da-
mascus. Western-funded aid agencies re-
pair infrastructure, hospitals and schools
in the region. The parliament, formed in
September, still meets in a high school. But
that also means that politicians are acces-
sible. Your correspondent got a meeting
with the two heads of government simply
by knocking on their office door.
On social issues Rojava’s leaders are
rather progressive compared with those in
much of the Middle East. Polygamy is out-
lawed. A man and a woman co-lead every
office in government. A woman runs
Raqqa, which is once declared its capital.
Few, if any, senior female officials wear a
veil. The Kurds, though Muslim, are dis-
tinctly relaxed about it—they openly drink
and smoke during the Ramadan fast. Faith
is considered a private matter. To the de-
light of America’s evangelicals, a new
church has opened in Kobane for the grow-
ing number of Christian converts.
But Rojava’s new rulers owe their power
to gun-toting revolutionary committees,
not the ballot box. They emerged from the
Kurdish Workers’ Party (pkk), which is
based in northern Iraq and considered a
terrorist group by many countries. Rojava
has the trappings of a repressive one-party
state. Protests are censured and opposition
parties harassed. Officials say they are bet-
ter than the regime of Bashar al-Assad, Syr-
ia’s dictator, or the rebels who fought
him—a miserably low bar. “It’s just another
totalitarian regime,” says a Kurdish jour-
nalist who fled abroad.
Rojava’s demography makes ruling
hard. There are thought to be between
500,000 and 1m Kurds in the region, com-
pared with at least 1.5m Arabs. So Kurdish
officials have tried to broaden their appeal
n September they replaced the name Ro-
java with the more inclusive, but wordy,
“autonomous administration of north and
east Syria” (nes). They also moved the ad-
ministrative capital from Qamishli, a
Kurdish city, to Ain Issa, a drab Arab town.
Arabs have been appointed to many senior
positions in government. “We’re seeking a
geographic federation, not an ethnic feder-
ation,” says Polat Can, a commander in the
Syrian Democratic Forces (sdf), the local
army. Half of Mr Can’s soldiers are Arab.
Still, the Arabs in Rojava feel increasing-
ly alienated. Kurdish forces known as the
People’s Protection Units, or ypg, lead the
sdf. “Kurd or Arab?” ask guards of visitors
at a military base. Arab sheikhs claim the
Kurds have seized their land and are im-
posing their own customs. “They want us
to bring our wives to tribal gatherings,”
fumes one who considers such mingling of
the sexes improper. Some speak of the
Kurdish “occupation”. Protesters near Deir
al-Zour’s oil wells have blocked access with
burning tyres. “The Kurds”, they chant,
“have stolen our oil.”
Turkey in the north and Mr Assad’s gov-
ernment in the south prey on the differ-
ences. They have each held tribal gather-
ings in an attempt to win over the Arabs of
Rojava. Turkey wants to carve out a buffer
zone on its southern border, which might
contain Kurdish cities. Rojava, it says, of-
fers the pkk a rear base to continue its 40-
year war against the Turkish government.
West of Manbij, Turkish tanks train their
turrets on Kurdish positions. The Kurds
have no air force and little heavy weaponry.
They are no match for the Turkish army.
Nor can they challenge the army of Mr
Assad, who says he wants to reclaim all of
Syria. He is currently focused on Idlib, the
last rebel stronghold. At the height of the
war Mr Assad pulled his troops from the
north to defend Damascus; the Kurds did
not fight them. But the regime still holds
some sway in Rojava. It runs the mobile-
phone network and oversees many courts
and schools. In the region’s only civilian
airport, controlled by the regime, portraits
of the dictator are ubiquitous and travellers
who work for the nes risk arrest. A propos-
al by Russia, which backs Mr Assad, would
have the Syrian army return to Rojava and
turn Kurdish forces into local police.
Meanwhile, the threat of is lingers. The
jihadists set up impromptu checkpoints on
highways. A ban on motorbikes in war-
shattered Raqqa has only partially succeed-
ed in curbing attacks on infrastructure. Of-
ficials describe camps crammed with dis-
placed and disgruntled Arabs as potential
incubators of jihadism. Many women in
the region, still fearful of is, continue to
wear niqabs.
The Kurds are reassured by the presence
of America. Some 2,000 of its troops are
spread across the territory. Its warplanes
buzz overhead and its forces deter the
Turks. President Donald Trump appears to
have backtracked from his tweet in Decem-
ber ordering a pullout from Syria. But un-
certainty over America’s intentions com-
plicates life for the Kurds. The local
administration has found it harder to re-
cruit and retain Arabs. Even the Kurds are
hedging their bets. Rojava’s leaders recent-
ly went to Damascus for talks with Mr As-
sad’s intelligence chief. The founder of the
pkk, Abdullah Ocalan, has urged them to
“take account of Turkish sensitivities”.
Kurdish leaders in Syria aspire to be
America’s permanent ally, like the Kurds
next door in Iraq. But Rojava, unlike the
Kurdish autonomous region in Iraq, lacks
un recognition. “You don’t know how long
it’s going to last,” says a teacher in Qam-
ishli. “You feel it’s built on sand.”
The Economist, Volume 431, Number 9144
Who will rule the north?
KOBANE AND RAQ QA
The Kurds are tightening their grip on northern Syria. But enemies lurk nearby
The kurds have their own name for
northern Syria: Rojava, which means
where the sun sets. For decades that
seemed fitting. Arab nationalists pushed
them off their land and suppressed their
language. Then came the jihadists of Islam-
ic State (is). War with them levelled cities.
But with is defeated those cities are rising
again. One of the largest, Kobane, is bigger
and taller than before. It sports a towering
war memorial and is hosting its second art
fair. “We’ve had enough of the pain,” says
Brivan Hammoush, a landscape artist.
Over the course of Syria’s multi-sided
civil war, which began in 2011, the Kurds
captured a third of the country (see map).
In 2016 they declared their own autono-
mous region in Rojava, which contains
most of Syria’s oilfields, its highest dams
and its bread basket. Trade routes as old as
the Silk Road run through the territory.
Such valuable land is a boon to Rojava’s
Kurdish-led administration. But it also at-
tracts enemies. As they rebuild their re-
gion, the Kurds face threats, at home and
from abroad. And many fear their strongest
ally, America, will abandon them at the
drop of a tweet.
For now things are looking up. Fighting,
sanctions and a lack of funds stymie recon-
struction in most of Syria, but juggernauts
loaded with diggers and cement queue for
miles at Rojava’s border with Iraq. Convoys
of petrol tankers ply the highways to Da-
mascus. Western-funded aid agencies re-
pair infrastructure, hospitals and schools
in the region. The parliament, formed in
September, still meets in a high school. But
that also means that politicians are acces-
sible. Your correspondent got a meeting
with the two heads of government simply
by knocking on their office door.
On social issues Rojava’s leaders are
rather progressive compared with those in
much of the Middle East. Polygamy is out-
lawed. A man and a woman co-lead every
office in government. A woman runs
Raqqa, which is once declared its capital.
Few, if any, senior female officials wear a
veil. The Kurds, though Muslim, are dis-
tinctly relaxed about it—they openly drink
and smoke during the Ramadan fast. Faith
is considered a private matter. To the de-
light of America’s evangelicals, a new
church has opened in Kobane for the grow-
ing number of Christian converts.
But Rojava’s new rulers owe their power
to gun-toting revolutionary committees,
not the ballot box. They emerged from the
Kurdish Workers’ Party (pkk), which is
based in northern Iraq and considered a
terrorist group by many countries. Rojava
has the trappings of a repressive one-party
state. Protests are censured and opposition
parties harassed. Officials say they are bet-
ter than the regime of Bashar al-Assad, Syr-
ia’s dictator, or the rebels who fought
him—a miserably low bar. “It’s just another
totalitarian regime,” says a Kurdish jour-
nalist who fled abroad.
Rojava’s demography makes ruling
hard. There are thought to be between
500,000 and 1m Kurds in the region, com-
pared with at least 1.5m Arabs. So Kurdish
officials have tried to broaden their appeal
n September they replaced the name Ro-
java with the more inclusive, but wordy,
“autonomous administration of north and
east Syria” (nes). They also moved the ad-
ministrative capital from Qamishli, a
Kurdish city, to Ain Issa, a drab Arab town.
Arabs have been appointed to many senior
positions in government. “We’re seeking a
geographic federation, not an ethnic feder-
ation,” says Polat Can, a commander in the
Syrian Democratic Forces (sdf), the local
army. Half of Mr Can’s soldiers are Arab.
Still, the Arabs in Rojava feel increasing-
ly alienated. Kurdish forces known as the
People’s Protection Units, or ypg, lead the
sdf. “Kurd or Arab?” ask guards of visitors
at a military base. Arab sheikhs claim the
Kurds have seized their land and are im-
posing their own customs. “They want us
to bring our wives to tribal gatherings,”
fumes one who considers such mingling of
the sexes improper. Some speak of the
Kurdish “occupation”. Protesters near Deir
al-Zour’s oil wells have blocked access with
burning tyres. “The Kurds”, they chant,
“have stolen our oil.”
Turkey in the north and Mr Assad’s gov-
ernment in the south prey on the differ-
ences. They have each held tribal gather-
ings in an attempt to win over the Arabs of
Rojava. Turkey wants to carve out a buffer
zone on its southern border, which might
contain Kurdish cities. Rojava, it says, of-
fers the pkk a rear base to continue its 40-
year war against the Turkish government.
West of Manbij, Turkish tanks train their
turrets on Kurdish positions. The Kurds
have no air force and little heavy weaponry.
They are no match for the Turkish army.
Nor can they challenge the army of Mr
Assad, who says he wants to reclaim all of
Syria. He is currently focused on Idlib, the
last rebel stronghold. At the height of the
war Mr Assad pulled his troops from the
north to defend Damascus; the Kurds did
not fight them. But the regime still holds
some sway in Rojava. It runs the mobile-
phone network and oversees many courts
and schools. In the region’s only civilian
airport, controlled by the regime, portraits
of the dictator are ubiquitous and travellers
who work for the nes risk arrest. A propos-
al by Russia, which backs Mr Assad, would
have the Syrian army return to Rojava and
turn Kurdish forces into local police.
Meanwhile, the threat of is lingers. The
jihadists set up impromptu checkpoints on
highways. A ban on motorbikes in war-
shattered Raqqa has only partially succeed-
ed in curbing attacks on infrastructure. Of-
ficials describe camps crammed with dis-
placed and disgruntled Arabs as potential
incubators of jihadism. Many women in
the region, still fearful of is, continue to
wear niqabs.
The Kurds are reassured by the presence
of America. Some 2,000 of its troops are
spread across the territory. Its warplanes
buzz overhead and its forces deter the
Turks. President Donald Trump appears to
have backtracked from his tweet in Decem-
ber ordering a pullout from Syria. But un-
certainty over America’s intentions com-
plicates life for the Kurds. The local
administration has found it harder to re-
cruit and retain Arabs. Even the Kurds are
hedging their bets. Rojava’s leaders recent-
ly went to Damascus for talks with Mr As-
sad’s intelligence chief. The founder of the
pkk, Abdullah Ocalan, has urged them to
“take account of Turkish sensitivities”.
Kurdish leaders in Syria aspire to be
America’s permanent ally, like the Kurds
next door in Iraq. But Rojava, unlike the
Kurdish autonomous region in Iraq, lacks
un recognition. “You don’t know how long
it’s going to last,” says a teacher in Qam-
ishli. “You feel it’s built on sand.”
The Economist, Volume 431, Number 9144
HannibalBarca
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Hollywood would have made a movie out of it for even less if he was a US soldier ...
They survived an airstrike/shelling...
Last edited:
HannibalBarca
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@cabatli_53 Sir, can you check for off topic post that have nothing to do with TR operation/Idlib events.
Best regards,
Best regards,
HannibalBarca
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Since you don't have the guts to quote me and answer directly... here i'm doing it for you...
You are off topic... so if you want to post it... go make a thread titled:
"Let's post every Tom and Harry words... to fuel my already biased/hateful opinion on a certain group of people"
But not here... no need to undertake an interesting thread.
CAN_TR
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HannibalBarca
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30min for such answer... It seems I am to you at least...Yeah sure... cuz you are soooo dangerous
CAN_TR
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30 min for such an answer because Barcelona vs Valencia is more interesting than you.
We have a saying in Turkish:
Kendini bir bok sananlar cok haklilar, cünkü insan kendinin ne oldugunu daha iyi bilir.
We have a saying in Turkish:
Kendini bir bok sananlar cok haklilar, cünkü insan kendinin ne oldugunu daha iyi bilir.
HannibalBarca
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And yet you keep answering...
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