How to Invent a War?

 

When Great Powers Needed a Proxy, Kurdistan Became the Rumor

Dr. Pshtiwan Faraj, Sulaimani, Iraq, April 29, 2026 --- Just six days into the U.S.-Iran war, a single social media post nearly changed the strategic narrative of the entire conflict.

A prominent American journalist reported that thousands of Iraqi Kurds had crossed into Iran, launching what appeared to be the opening phase of a Kurdish uprising against Tehran. Within minutes, the claim ricocheted across international media, diplomatic circles, and military analysts.

There was only one problem.

It was not true.

No Iraqi Kurdish offensive had begun. No mass border crossing had occurred. No coordinated Kurdish uprising had been launched.

Yet the story spread with extraordinary speed, revealing something far more significant than a simple reporting error: in Middle Eastern geopolitics, Kurdistan remains the world's most convenient imagined battlefield.

The Logic Defied Reality

The allegation never made strategic sense.

The Kurdistan Regional Government maintains a delicate balancing act between two indispensable powers: the United States and Iran.

Washington helped build modern Iraqi Kurdistan after 1991 and continues to provide vital military, diplomatic, and financial support. Tehran, meanwhile, is an immediate neighbor, major trading partner, and unavoidable security actor.

For Erbil, choosing sides in a direct U.S.-Iran war would have been geopolitical suicide.

Kurdish leaders understood this instantly. Their message was unambiguous: neutrality, de-escalation, and regional stability.

Yet neutrality rarely survives contact with great-power narratives.

The Anatomy of a Strategic Leak

The initial report was quickly amended. Iraqi Kurds became Iranian Kurdish exiles. A full-scale offensive transformed into a speculative insurgent movement. The certainty evaporated, but the damage remained.

This sequence was telling.

Such stories rarely emerge spontaneously. They are usually born inside tightly managed national security ecosystems, where anonymous officials shape narratives long before facts can catch up.

A coordinated leak serves multiple purposes:

• It pressures adversaries.
• It tests public reaction.
• It signals intent.
• It attempts to shape battlefield calculations.

In this case, the intended audience may not have been the public at all.

It may have been Tehran.

Or perhaps the Kurds themselves.

Kurdistan: Perpetually Cast as a Proxy

The deeper issue extends beyond one false report.

Kurdish movements are routinely described not as autonomous political actors, but as instruments awaiting activation by larger powers.

This framing is both inaccurate and dangerous.

Iranian Kurdish parties have existed for decades—many longer than several states in the region. They possess sophisticated political structures, ideological programs, social institutions, and extensive historical legitimacy.

They are not temporary militias assembled by foreign intelligence agencies.

They are national movements.

Yet Western reporting often strips away this reality, reducing them to "armed groups," "militias," or "potential proxies."

Words matter in geopolitics. They determine legitimacy, shape policy, and sometimes decide who lives or dies.

The Historical Erasure of Rojhelat

Western coverage frequently treats Iranian Kurdistan—Rojhelat—as if it appeared only when Washington noticed it.

That is historical malpractice.

Kurdish resistance in Iran predates the Islamic Republic, the Shah's fall, and even the creation of the CIA itself. The short-lived Republic of Mahabad remains one of the defining moments of modern Kurdish political consciousness.

Today's Kurdish parties in Iran are heirs to that legacy.

Their struggle is rooted not in foreign sponsorship, but in decades of repression, cultural marginalization, political exclusion, and economic underdevelopment.

Ignoring this history transforms Kurdish agency into foreign conspiracy.

That transformation is precisely what authoritarian states rely upon.

Psychological Warfare and Strategic Signaling

There is a compelling argument that the "Kurdish invasion" narrative functioned as psychological warfare.

By suggesting an imminent Kurdish uprising, Washington could increase pressure on Tehran, forcing Iranian security planners to divert resources toward Kurdish regions.

At minimal cost, such a narrative could create maximum anxiety.

But geopolitical signaling often imposes real costs on those being signaled about.

For Kurdish civilians, the consequences were immediate.

Iran intensified security operations. Kurdish opposition bases came under renewed attack. Regional tensions escalated.

Once again, Kurdistan paid the price for a war it did not choose.

The Dangerous Echo of 1991

Kurds remember history, especially when great powers do not.

The parallels with 1991 were impossible to ignore.

Then, the United States encouraged Iraqis—particularly Kurds—to rise against Saddam Hussein, only to hesitate when retaliation came. The result was catastrophe.

That memory remains deeply embedded in Kurdish strategic thinking.

Any suggestion that Washington might once again encourage revolt without offering guarantees would naturally be met with skepticism.

And rightly so.

Nations that have survived betrayal tend to read invitations very carefully.

The Real War Came Anyway

Although the imagined Kurdish offensive never materialized, Kurdistan still became a battlefield.

Iranian Kurdish areas absorbed heavy U.S. and Israeli strikes against Iranian military infrastructure.

Meanwhile, the Kurdistan Region endured waves of missile and drone attacks from Iranian-aligned forces.

Civilians suffered.

Infrastructure suffered.

Regional stability suffered.

The war that did occur was not the one television audiences were promised.

It was quieter, messier, and far deadlier for those living beneath it.

Why Media Framing Matters

The media's treatment of Kurdish actors has strategic consequences.

Calling Kurdish forces "militias" while describing state-backed sectarian groups as "security forces" is not neutral language.

It reflects inherited assumptions about legitimacy, sovereignty, and who is allowed to wield force.

Similarly, labeling Kurdish demands for decentralization and constitutional rights as "separatism" reproduces the rhetoric of states that have historically criminalized Kurdish identity itself.

Journalism does not merely report power.

It can also reinforce it.

Kurdistan's Permanent Geopolitical Burden

Kurdistan occupies one of the world's most difficult strategic positions.

It is too important to ignore, too divided to unify, too useful to leave alone, and too vulnerable to fully protect.

Every regional confrontation risks turning Kurdish lands into either a battleground or a bargaining chip.

That structural reality explains why false reports about Kurdish uprisings are so readily believed.

The world has grown accustomed to imagining Kurds as perpetual combatants.

It pays far less attention when they simply seek survival.

The Lesson for Policymakers

The episode offers a stark warning.

Manipulating Kurdish aspirations for tactical advantage may produce short-term pressure on adversaries.

But it also deepens Kurdish distrust, invites retaliation, and destabilizes already fragile frontiers.

Strategic ambiguity can be useful.

Strategic cynicism is far more expensive.

Washington, Tehran, Ankara, and Baghdad would all do well to remember that Kurdish political movements are not chess pieces.

They are players.

Final Analysis

The greatest irony is that the war Western audiences briefly believed in never happened.

The real tragedy is that the war Kurdistan actually endured barely registered.

False narratives can mobilize headlines.

Reality, especially Kurdish reality, often struggles for airtime.

That imbalance is not merely a media failure.

It is a geopolitical one.

And until Kurdistan is treated as a political subject rather than a strategic object, the world will continue inventing wars there—even when Kurds themselves are trying desperately to avoid them.

In the following weeks, Kurdistan would become a battlefield – but not one that Kurdish forces on either side of the border had chosen. U.S. and Israeli strikes targeted military and security infrastructure in Iran’s heavily securitized Kurdish borderlands. According to human rights monitor Hengaw, 290 “military, security, and administrative sites” were struck in four Kurdish provinces before a ceasefire was reached in mid-April, killing over 1,500 military and security personnel and over 100 civilians. Meanwhile, Iran and its Iraqi proxy forces struck U.S. military and diplomatic facilities in the neighboring Kurdistan Region of Iraq (KRI). The bases of Iranian Kurdish parties also came under fire. Kurdish news outlet Rudaw reported that over 700 missiles and drones were launched at the KRI, killing 17 people and injuring 92. Kurdish leaders and civilians alike focused on survival and security.

 So why, in the Western media, was an ‘invasion’ or ‘uprising’ always just around the corner? Decontextualized and biased narratives gave legitimacy to exaggerated or outright false claims from state actors who may have sought to influence events on the ground rather than describe them. Language Matters The problem begins with the very language that is (and is not) used to describe Kurdish movements. Journalists and analysts covering the supposed ‘uprising’ cast parties committed to a democratic, multi-ethnic Iran as ‘separatists’ and Kurdish armed forces older than some modern states as ‘militias.’ While many Kurds dream of a country of their own, most Kurdish parties today demand decentralization and equal rights within the borders that exist, similar to the constitutional status enjoyed by Kurds in Iraq. 

The Coalition of Political Forces of Iranian Kurdistan, a seven-party alliance including both leftist and classic nationalist currents, is committed to national rights for Kurds and other minorities within a democratic and decentralized state. “In countries such as Iran and Turkey, many Kurdish political activists have been sentenced to long prison terms or even executed under accusations of separatism. Describing Kurdish parties in this way therefore reproduces the very accusations made by the central governments of Iran, Turkey, Syria, and Iraq.

Such language contributes to the dehumanization of Kurds and helps legitimize the repression of the Kurdish democratic movement in their homeland,” said Behnam Zarei, a Kurdish journalist. Writing on her X account, commentator Kijan Shano tackled the question of why Kurdish parties are not militias: “To many Kurds and international observers, these groups are seen as legitimate political movements with armed wings necessitated by history, whereas their opponents often use the term “militia” or “terrorist” to delegitimize them.” “Unlike a militia led by a “warlord,” these groups are led by Secretaries-General and Central Committees elected at party congresses. Their military wings are strictly subordinate to the party’s political wing. They aren’t just fighting; they have detailed manifestos on secularism, gender equality, and federalism. They provide social services to their members in exile, including schools and media,” she continued. The Kurdistan Freedom Party (PAK), a member of the Coalition of Political Forces of Iranian Kurdistan that has fought the Islamic Republic since the 1990s, is pushing back against inaccurate language. PAK formally requests that journalists who engage with it refer to its fighters as peshmerga, a Kurdish word that means ‘those who face death’ and has been used to refer to Kurdish armies for a century. “For us, the term Peshmerga carries national, ethnic, and moral value. When this name is replaced with terms like “militia” or “armed group,” it undermines and disregards our history and our values and our fallen Peshmerga,” Hana Yazdanpaneh, a PAK spokesperson, told me. 

Erasing History The bias didn’t stop at the inclusion of disparaging language. Western media outlets also chose to exclude Rojhelat’s rich history of resistance and self-governance. “International media have largely reduced the “Kurdish question” to the armed dimension of Kurdish parties and organizations. They have highlighted this aspect selectively, often in line with their own interests and the prevailing geopolitical context. This is despite the fact that Kurds—particularly in Rojhelat – have a rich and long history of political struggle,” said Behnam Zarei. “There are political parties that have existed for more than eighty years. This part of Kurdistan also experienced the establishment of the Republic of Kurdistan in Mahabad under the leadership of Qazi Muhammad in 1946. Civil society and civic activism have always been a central component of the Kurdish question in Rojhelat,” he continued. Azadi*, a Kurdish researcher using a pseudonym to protect relatives inside Iran, warned that mainstream reporting also leaves out the reasons why Kurds are willing to put up such a fight. “What is also missing…is the everyday political reality for Kurds in Iran: restrictions on language and cultural expression, limitations on political organizing, and economic marginalization in Kurdish regions. Without this context, the Kurdish issue is often framed purely through geopolitics rather than as a question of rights, governance, and representation for communities with longstanding grievances that existed well before the Islamic Republic came to power,” they said. A reader learning about alleged U.S. engagement with Kurdish opposition parties from Axios or CNN would have only learned that the CIA had a nebulous plan to arm them. They would not know that Kurds in Iran had been armed and organized since before the CIA existed, or that they had twice turned those arms against the U.S.-backed monarchy in response to repressive policies not so different from those of the Islamic Republic. This allows Kurds to be framed as proxies of foreign powers, not actors with their own interests – a narrative used to justify disappearances, executions, and bombings. 

 The War That Wasn’t When journalists and analysts exclude historical context and reduce movements to epithets, it is difficult to understand who exactly is involved in a conflict and what it is that they are fighting for. These subtle choices create the environment in which a logically impossible military operation can spread. It may have been the perfect setup for actors who wanted to instrumentalize Kurdish struggle for their own ends. Matthew Petti, an assistant editor at Reason Magazine (and a former non-resident fellow at the Kurdish Peace Institute), has broken stories on U.S. foreign policy in the Middle East. I asked him for a journalistic perspective on the process that could have brought the non-existent Kurdish invasion to the headlines. “Without any inside knowledge, it looked like a coordinated leak by the administration. A lot of journalists on the Pentagon and White House beats were simultaneously briefed on a nearly identical story. These beats tend to be really controlled reporting environments. You’re in physically constrained spaces getting all your information from officials whether through authorized or unauthorized channels. The measure of credibility is not necessarily whether you can corroborate the story on the ground but whether you can get it from multiple officials,” Petti explained. Many people in the region believe that the U.S. used the threat of an implausible war as a tactic – and that it made conditions for Kurdish self-determination on both sides of the border more dangerous, not less. Kurdish parties themselves have considered this possibility. Zagros Enderyari is the Foreign Affairs spokesman for the Kurdistan Free Life Party (PJAK), a member of the Coalition of Political Forces of Iranian Kurdistan known to have forces inside Iran’s borders. He affirmed that reports of Kurdish involvement in the war were “not accurate and have no factual basis.” “One possibility is that these reports are part of psychological warfare, intended to increase political and psychological pressure on the Islamic Republic of Iran. 

It is well known that Kurdish parties in Iranian Kurdistan—especially PJAK—have certain capacities and influence in regional dynamics, and this may encourage such speculation,” Enderyari said. Leakers may have also wanted to push the Kurds to act when it became clear that the Iranian state would not collapse from airstrikes alone – no matter the consequences. Though few will say it outright, activists, diplomats, and others have suggested this in private conversations. Many recall the carnage of 1991, when the U.S. urged Iraqi Kurds to rise up against Saddam Hussein then failed to intervene until after his regime had killed and displaced countless civilians. If this was the strategy, it seems to have had the opposite effect: “The forewarning gave both the Iranian and Turkish governments time to mobilize preemptively, and the cynicism of it all probably spooked Kurdish parties that were already worried about the U.S. exposing them to danger without guarantees,” said Petti. Days before the U.S. and Iran reached a ceasefire, U.S. President Donald Trump played the Kurdish card again. Speaking to Fox News, he claimed that Kurds had ‘kept’ weapons sent by the United States for Iranian protestors. The Coalition of Political Forces of Iranian Kurdistan denied it – but the damage was done. Kurds and Kurdistan are excluded from the fragile pause in a war they never chose to join. According to Community Peacemaker Teams, Iran and its proxies hit Rojhelati opposition bases 37 times since the ceasefire began, killing at least four peshmerga. Iraqi Kurdish facilities were targeted seven times. Just four strikes hit U.S.

 facilities. Residents of the KRI’s major cities are accustomed to the sound of drone strikes and interceptions. In Rojhelat, executions and arrests are a near-daily occurrence. Human rights activists fear a crackdown worse than the one that followed the ‘Woman, Life, Freedom’ uprising. None of this makes the headlines. Reporters who flocked to the region to cover a battle that never materialized have long since gone home. That the reality of war in Kurdistan has drawn less attention than a possible war constructed by unnamed foreign officials ought to be cause for reflection. So, too, should the fact that the conventions of reporting on Kurdish issues made these claims believable.

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