Originally published: https://english.anf-news.com/interview/Celik-peace-requires-a-democratic-state-87494

Reis Çelik said peace should be built on the principles of a social state, stressing that peace between different identities and affiliations required a democratic understanding of the state.

06 October 2026 | Hayri Tunç, ANF

Debate over a new period aimed at resolving the Kurdish question continues in Turkey. The process, which followed statements by Nationalist Movement Party (MHP) leader Devlet Bahçeli in October 2024 and began with the Call for Peace and Democratic Society issued by Kurdish People’s Leader Abdullah Öcalan on 27 February 2025, has remained on the public agenda for nearly two years.

Different sections of society have expressed a range of views on the process and the resolution of the Kurdish question, while expectations for peace have also continued to be debated over the past two years.

Reis Çelik, director of Let There Be Light (Işıklar Sönmesin), one of the first films to address the resolution of the Kurdish question in Turkey, spoke to ANF about the current state of cinema in Turkey and his views on the Peace and Democratic Society Process.

As a socialist, I am more inclined to tell the stories of what society experiences

Çelik said art was a field that gave voice to what remained unsaid and documented every aspect of life through different forms: “The primary function of art is to say what is left unsaid, to do what cannot otherwise be done, and to document every aspect of life through different means. Music does this, painting does this, sculpture does this, and literature does this. Cinema shows this courage more than any of them.

I am a storyteller. I do not insist on saying, ‘I am going to make political cinema’; I bear witness to my time. With so much injustice, corruption and poverty before me, what else could I think about? Of course, society also needs different things. One person makes people laugh, another makes them cry, and another tells stories about social problems. As a socialist, I suppose I am more inclined to tell the stories of what societies go through.”

Cinema was the most powerful language for saying there is a Kurdish question in this country

Reis Çelik said that when he made Let There Be Light, the state pursued an approach that denied the existence of the Kurdish question, while the arts were also under pressure. Çelik described the difficulties he faced during filming and his struggle to secure a theatrical release: “It was clear that the state’s general approach was to deny the Kurdish question. The arts had also been intimidated into silence. We were going through a period when saying, ‘There is a Kurdish question in this country,’ was considered a crime. It was a dark period in which unsolved killings had reached their peak.

I worked as a journalist for many years and spent time in conflict zones. The reports and photographs we produced as witnesses were being twisted and distorted beyond recognition. During that period, I left journalism and publishing because I wanted to tell what I had to say without allowing anyone to distort it. I decided that cinema was the most powerful language through which I could say that there was a Kurdish question in this country.

With Let There Be Light, I tried, in the simplest terms, to show ordinary people that there was a Kurdish question in this country. We wanted to shoot the film in actual conflict zones, but we were not given permission. The General Staff even sent instructions throughout the region stating that permission had not been granted for the film and that its production should be prevented. To some extent, we shot the film secretly. We tried to disguise it as though we were making a different film. We stayed in caves and did not go into the towns. We came close to freezing. Many of our colleagues needed treatment for years afterwards. Towards the end, our presence in the region was discovered and we faced serious difficulties.

A governor took the initiative and had us escorted safely out of the region. I later learned that he was the first Alevi governor to have served in Turkey. Getting the film into cinemas was also extremely difficult. Because I had worked as a journalist for many years, I was able to approach political figures I knew and eventually secure permission for the film to be shown in cinemas, albeit on a limited basis. My aim was not to become the ‘victimised, heroic director’ of a banned film. Nor was it to sell myself to the machinery of the imperialist Western world. What I wanted was to confront people with their own reality.”

Audiences were subjected to identity checks outside cinemas

Çelik said: “The film was released across Turkey with only four prints. Two were shown in Istanbul, one in Ankara and one in Izmir. Something nobody had expected happened: audiences began turning up in record numbers. For the first time in a long while, long queues formed outside cinemas. After a while, police began checking people’s identification at cinema entrances before allowing them inside. Those they did not approve of were denied entry. If people inside ululated or chanted slogans, the screening was stopped and the audience was removed. Tensions rose even further when the film reached cities in the east and southeast.

There were arrests, protest marches and other incidents. At the same time, the film’s release became a major story across the media. The right-wing press wrote that ‘the PKK had commissioned a film’, while the organisation’s side criticised it because ‘the PKK is not mentioned by name’. I had expected all of this. What mattered to me was that people had embraced the film and were confronting the reality that ‘there is a Kurdish question in this country’.

Lawsuits were also filed. There were Kurdish conversations and laments in the film, and it portrayed the state as a party to a war that it did not recognise as such, among other things. My own situation was rather difficult. We were living through a period when something could happen to me at any moment. My friends eventually took me to Germany for a while. The whole process dragged on like that.”

Much of the arts community appeared left-wing but had been intimidated

Reis Çelik also addressed why relatively few films had been made about the Kurdish question: “Given the pressure and censorship that the state had historically imposed on literature and the arts in Turkey, making films like this was almost impossible. What happened to Yılmaz Güney and other artists was already there for everyone to see, even though they had not addressed these issues so explicitly and directly. Another reality is that cinema is a very expensive art form. Making a film requires substantial investment. A producer will not take the risk unless they can clearly see a future for the project. Naturally, finding a producer willing to invest in a project dealing with a subject as sensitive as the Kurdish question was almost unimaginable.

Another problem was that much of the arts community appeared left-wing and democratic, but in reality, so to speak, the vast majority had been intimidated and driven into their corners. Some were actually ‘social fascists’. At the time, even the word ‘Kurd’ made them uncomfortable. We had enormous difficulty finding actors for the film. You would be surprised if I listed all the people whose doors I knocked on only to be turned away. Yet when circumstances became easier, they all suddenly became sympathetic to the Kurds.

In other words, we have an ‘intellectual’ community that has become remarkably skilled at turning into a bird when it sees a cliff and a fish when it sees water. All of this has obstructed the production of films offering new perspectives in this field.”

Those who are fighting are the ones who can end wars

Çelik also spoke about the talks between the Turkish state and the Kurdish movement and the new period: “Thirty years have now passed since Let There Be Light was released in cinemas in 1996 and sparked widespread debate. Some of the issues discussed between the soldier and the guerrilla in the film are now being discussed in the Grand National Assembly of Turkey. An internal conflict has been going on in these lands for nearly 50 years. The Turkish state has finally reached the point of acknowledging, ‘Yes, there is a Kurdish question in this country.’ The forces in the mountains, meanwhile, have concluded that the armed struggle has reached the limits of what it can achieve.

As the government was searching for a new political path to secure its continuity, its coalition partner presented it with the most unexpected option: ‘Let us bring the period of armed conflict over the Kurdish question to an end. Let Founding Leader Abdullah Öcalan come and guide this process through Parliament.’ This unexpected proposal from the leader of the ultranationalist-nationalist wing, which had been at the forefront of the conflict for nearly half a century, had the effect of an earthquake. What surprised people most was that such an initiative had come from the nationalist camp.

In my view, this was not surprising. Wars, conflicts or, in the simplest sense, fights can only be ended by those who are actually fighting. Who was fighting the PKK? The military, the police and, in civilian life, predominantly the ultranationalist-nationalist camp. The proposal to ‘stop’ came from that same camp. Ultimately, the will to bring it to an end lies in the hands of these two forces.

The Turkish Republic needed to end this war because it had understood that it could not destroy the will of a people. It needed to end it because it had realised that it could no longer bear the cost. It needed to end it because it had seen that the imperialist world was beginning to rearrange the balance of power in the Middle East and had realised that remaining within these borders required finding a way out through this process. Finally, a government that had collapsed politically and economically needed a new move to prolong its survival for a little longer.

The forces in the mountains also needed this transformation. First, they had sufficiently demonstrated to the state that the Kurds were not ‘Kart-Kurt’, as they had once been dismissively portrayed. Second, the movement had grown to such an extraordinary scale and developed so many branches that the possibility of parts of it slipping beyond control had become increasingly apparent. With an organisation rooted in socialist principles conducting a struggle across such a vast area, it had become inevitable that imperialist power interests would penetrate the process and create the potential for outside influence. Most importantly, everyone had come to realise that the Kurdish people no longer had the strength or patience to continue bearing such a heavy cost.

All of this made it necessary to sit down at the negotiating table. Attempts had been made before, mistakes were made and the talks collapsed. In this latest process, no one can afford to make another mistake. Every side knows very well what another failure could cost.”

Peace must be based on a social state

Reis Çelik also criticised the way Kurds were portrayed in cinema: “I am deeply uncomfortable with expressions and definitions such as ‘Kurds are our brothers too’, ‘Kurds are also citizens of this state’, ‘Kurds also have the right to have a say’, or ‘Kurds too can speak their own language and sing their own songs’. I detest this top-down, state-centred approach in films and other forms of art, as though rights were something to be handed out as a favour. The word ‘also’ carries an underlying sense of separation. Saying ‘they too’ is condescending.

The arts community thinks it is embracing the issue when it produces films using this kind of language. Consciously or unconsciously, people define their own social group as a superior identity. Films and other artistic works need to properly convey the idea that social peace can be achieved by accurately reflecting an understanding of the ‘democratic state’ through artistic production.”

Reis Çelik said peace needed to be built on the principles of a social state and concluded: “Everyone who is a citizen of this country is subject to compulsory military service. Flags were hung outside the homes of tens of thousands of our people who were killed in this war. Some of those homes were built of mud brick, some were unplastered and others were plastered. Some mothers sang their laments in Turkish, others in Kurdish.

Peace between the mud-brick home and the unplastered home means addressing Turkey’s economic inequality. That is also extremely important. This must be a peace founded on the principles of a social state, which is essential. Peace between identities and affiliations, meanwhile, is the peace that comes with an understanding of a democratic state.”