In the long and tragic history of the Middle East, few peoples have been summoned to revolt as often—and abandoned as quickly—as the Kurds. Today, amid escalating tensions between the United States, Israel, and Iran, a familiar pattern appears to be re-emerging. Reports that Donald Trump recently held sensitive calls with Kurdish leaders—including Masoud Barzani of the Kurdistan Democratic Party and Bafel Talabani of the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan—raise a troubling question: are the Kurds once again being encouraged to rise against a powerful state only to face the consequences alone?
According to reporting about the discussions, the outreach came after months of quiet lobbying by Benjamin Netanyahu. Israel has long cultivated ties with Kurdish factions across Iraq, Syria, and Iran, seeing them as potential allies against regional adversaries. The idea, reportedly entertained in strategic conversations, is that Kurdish groups might “come out of the woodwork” and rise up against the Iranian state during a broader confrontation.
On paper, such thinking fits neatly within the geopolitical chessboard. Kurdish militias possess local knowledge, hardened fighters, and an existing history of insurgency against Tehran. In strategists’ minds, they represent a potential internal pressure point against Ali Khamenei’s government.
But for the Kurds themselves, the calculation is not theoretical—it is existential.
A History of Encouraged Revolts
For decades, Kurdish movements have been courted by external powers whenever regional conflict intensifies. During the Cold War, Kurdish uprisings were intermittently supported, only to be abandoned when larger diplomatic deals were struck. One of the most infamous examples occurred in 1975, when Kurdish forces in Iraq—encouraged by the United States and Iran to rebel against Baghdad—were abruptly cut off after the signing of the Algiers Agreement (1975). Within days, the revolt collapsed, and tens of thousands of Kurds fled.
A similar dynamic has repeated itself many times since. Kurdish fighters were critical partners of the United States in the war against the Islamic State. Yet when geopolitical priorities shifted, support proved conditional and fragile. The lesson learned in Kurdish political circles is stark: alliances with major powers are often tactical, temporary, and ultimately expendable.
The Strategic Temptation
From a strategic perspective, the logic behind courting Kurdish insurgency against Iran is clear. Iran contains several Kurdish regions, particularly in its northwest along the Iraqi border. Kurdish militant groups already exist there, including factions opposed to Tehran’s central authority.
If a regional war intensified, encouraging Kurdish uprisings inside Iran could theoretically stretch Iranian security forces, forcing them to fight on multiple fronts. This concept—destabilizing an adversary through internal ethnic or regional pressure has been a familiar tactic in modern geopolitical competition.
But the gap between strategic imagination and political reality is enormous.
Iran has historically responded to Kurdish insurgencies with overwhelming force. Any uprising lacking sustained external backing would likely face swift suppression by Iranian security services, including the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps. Unlike in Iraq or Syria, where fragmented state authority created space for Kurdish autonomy, Iran’s central government has proven far more resilient in maintaining territorial control.
In other words, the Kurds could be invited to open a front in a war whose outcome they cannot control.
The Pattern of Abandonment
The fear expressed by many observers—and by Kurds themselves—is that the scenario could follow a familiar script:
First, Kurdish factions are encouraged to believe that geopolitical winds are shifting in their favor.
Second, they mobilize fighters and political networks to challenge the central government.
Third, the larger powers that encouraged the uprising recalibrate their priorities once the costs escalate.
When the dust settles, the Kurdish fighters remain on the battlefield alone.
This is why many Kurdish leaders have historically approached external encouragement with caution. The Kurdish political landscape is fragmented, but the collective memory of betrayal runs deep—from Iraq in the 1970s to Syria in more recent conflicts.
A Dangerous Illusion
There is also another uncomfortable truth behind the strategy. Outside powers often assume that Kurdish groups will automatically align with any initiative directed against a common adversary. But Kurdish movements are not monolithic. They are divided by ideology, geography, and competing political visions.
Some factions seek autonomy within existing states; others pursue independence. Some maintain relations with Western governments; others are wary of foreign manipulation. Assuming that Kurdish groups can be easily mobilized as a unified insurgent force risks misunderstanding the complexity of Kurdish politics.
More importantly, it risks misjudging the cost Kurds themselves would bear if the gamble fails.
The Human Cost
For Kurdish communities living in Iran, any insurgency would not be an abstract geopolitical maneuver—it would be a matter of survival. Iranian Kurdish regions have already experienced cycles of repression, insurgency, and retaliation over the decades.
An externally encouraged revolt could expose civilian populations to severe reprisals, economic isolation, and prolonged instability. Kurdish fighters might once again find themselves portrayed as proxies in a wider conflict between major regional powers.
And when that conflict shifts—as geopolitical conflicts inevitably do—the Kurds may once again discover that their supposed allies have moved on.
The Hard Lesson of Kurdish History
The central tragedy of Kurdish politics is that the Kurdish cause has often intersected with great-power rivalries without ever becoming the central priority of those powers. The Kurds have frequently been valued not as partners but as leverage.
This is why talk of Kurds “coming out of the woodwork” should provoke unease rather than enthusiasm. It echoes the language of past moments when Kurdish aspirations were briefly elevated as useful tools in larger struggles.
The Kurdish people have paid dearly for those moments.
Encouraging them to open another front against Iran—without the guarantee of sustained political, military, and diplomatic backing—risks repeating a familiar and painful cycle. One in which Kurdish fighters are celebrated as courageous allies when useful and quietly forgotten when the strategic map changes.
In that sense, the question posed today is not simply about geopolitics.
It is about whether the world has learned anything from the long history of Kurdish abandonment—or whether the Kurds are once again being shepherded toward another slaughterhouse.
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