Behzat Çarçel shared his memories and personal account of Qasim Engin (Ismail Nazlıkul), whom he met in 1995. He described Qasim Engin as a commander fully dedicated to the Kurdish freedom struggle, an intellectual with a clear ideological stance, strong public relations, and deep commitment. Çarçel emphasized that between 1995 and 1999, Qasim Engin played a vital role in military and front-line operations in regions such as Metîna, Zap, and Botan. He noted that Engin established strong ties with the local population and was also actively involved in theoretical and cultural work.

Behzat Çarçel shared his memories and personal account of Qasim Engin (Ismail Nazlıkul), whom he met in 1995. He described Qasim Engin as a commander fully dedicated to the Kurdish freedom struggle, an intellectual with a clear ideological stance, strong public relations, and deep commitment. Çarçel emphasized that between 1995 and 1999, Qasim Engin played a vital role in military and front-line operations in regions such as Metîna, Zap, and Botan. He noted that Engin established strong ties with the local population and was also actively involved in theoretical and cultural work.

Behzat Çarçel also spoke about his comrade Qasim Engin, who stood out for his research on Kurdish language and history as well as his deep interest in poetry and literature: First and foremost, on the anniversary of his martyrdom, I remember Qasim Engin with deep longing and bow with respect before him and all the martyrs. I express my love and commitment to his comradeship and leadership. It is our fundamental duty to build a socialist country and world through a long-term struggle for humanity, guided by the dreams and goals of comrade Qasim and all the fallen comrades, for the future of Kurdistan and for the hope of democracy and freedom.

I knew comrade Qasim as a multifaceted, vibrant comrade. I doubt there is anyone who spent years with him and was not deeply moved. His comradeship was inspiring. He was able to connect with everyone.

I first met comrade Qasim in 1995. Later, we shared many moments during times of war and carried out many tasks together. We worked side by side both in South (Başûr) Kurdistan, in Metîna and Zap and in North (Bakur) Kurdistan, especially in the regions of North Zap and Botan. After the first ceasefire, and particularly after the second ceasefire in 1999, when the guerrilla forces withdrew to South Kurdistan in response to President Öcalan’s call, we were almost constantly together. Even though there were periods when revolutionary duties led us to different places, we shared a long-lasting comradeship throughout those years.

This is how I remember our first meeting. It was 1995, the year President Öcalan and our movement defined as the second 15 August Offensive in response to the betrayal and collaboration of the Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP). The operation began on the night of 26 to 27 August. Through this offensive, 35 positions held by the KDP were brought under control. The campaign had begun against them, and there was war and confrontation. We met in the fall of 1995, on the Metîna-Zap border. At the time, he was a platoon commander. I was commanding the Metîna front. That is where we got to know each other and had conversations. That is how I remember meeting him for the first time. We took part in that offensive together, fighting and planning against the forces of betrayal and collaboration.

I still vividly remember, comrade Rojhat Bilûzerî was in charge of the Hakkarî (Colemêrg) Battalion, and Qasim was his commander. Comrade Qasim was very fond of comrade Rojhat. He supported him and served as his deputy. He played a meaningful role, especially in delivering theoretical education and strengthening ideological consciousness. At that time, we were part of the Metîna central force. That was how we first met. But in the years that followed, we crossed paths again in different places.

In 1997 and 1998, we were together again. At the time, we were in the Botan Province. We had 11 regions under our responsibility, and the Eastern Front was one of them. During that period, the Botan Province operated with its own initiative; we carried out a number of effective offensives and actions together. Comrades Cemal, Sozdar, Şerîf Sipêrtî, Rojhat, myself, comrade Qasim, and many others were together. On 8 August, we organized an operation to force the enemy out into the field. Eighteen enemy positions were selected as targets. After the attacks, we were to withdraw so the enemy would be drawn out. The plan was to surround and trap enemy forces for three days. At the time, comrade Qasim was leading a unit. His target was Kela Bayê. Each unit had a different objective. The attacks were largely successful, but the enemy did not enter the field that autumn. Comrade Qasim led his unit to its designated target and achieved success. Our common withdrawal point was Melîxa. All the other units arrived there on time. We gathered together, but comrade Qasim’s group was late. The province commander kept asking, “What could have happened to comrade Qasim and his group?” Eventually, some comrades said, “He took Mao’s Long March.” He had withdrawn from Kela Bayê in the direction of the Kato mountains, then circled around to reach us. It was a long and demanding route. He had done it to ensure the safety of his unit under his command. It even became a running joke among us. He was successful and composed but arrived late. Still, he was not the kind of commander who took offense at such jokes. He understood the nature of war, and he understood it well.

We used to ask one another how he was doing, where he had been stationed, and what kind of responsibilities he had taken on. Before comrade Qasim joined us, I already knew a bit about his earlier work. He had spent a long time in the Southwest and had carried out many responsibilities there. After that, he moved to the area of President Öcalan, and from there, he went to Botan. That was the background of our initial connection. But our true comradeship grew through the conversations and exchanges we shared over time.

He was an incredibly passionate and trustworthy comrade. He connected with everyone and had a curious mind. He was always open to discussion, he would debate, ask questions, and genuinely engage.

His most defining trait was his hyperactive nature. At the same time, he was incredibly skilled. He had many talents in many areas. He was a well-rounded comrade, both in cultural work and in his relationships with society.

When the history of Kurdistan is mentioned, comrade Qasim is one of the first names that comes to mind. He had even prepared a book titled History Is Now. His style, tone, and approach were deeply affecting. I always found his way of connecting with people to be warm and sincere. We quickly formed a strong bond and in the years that followed, we remained together for a long time.

He was a researcher. He read constantly. Even during times when resources were extremely limited, whenever the voice of President Öcalan, a new perspective, or a book reached our hands, he would show great interest. He also read books about the world. He was a true intellectual. He had a deep appreciation for literature and poetry as well.

We had countless conversations together. Our talks were not limited to structure, guerrilla life, or warfare, because guerrilla life and warfare already encompass everything. For us, they answered the question: “How will we live?” For fifty years, that had become our identity. Within guerrilla life and warfare, there is also literature, sociology, sport, and art. All of this existed within comrade Qasim. He had once been an athlete; he would lead the halay  (a traditional Kurdish folk dance) dance. He loved dancing halay, and so did I.

Comrade Qasim was from Bazarcix (Pazarcık). The Alevi culture there, the Kurdish identity, and the oppression imposed by the Kemalist regime had a deep impact on him. At the same time, he had grown up in Europe and studied electronics. He spent years in those schools, yet he maintained a strong connection to Kurdish traditions, something I also found striking. We truly shared many things in common. We would critique each other but also empower each other. I believe he played a historical role, not only in comradeship and guerrilla life but also in his relationships with the people. He carried all of it with a vibrant energy and a youthful spirit. He was noble and courageous. He never closed himself off, he was always open to change and growth.

In 1995, together with comrade Rojhat Bilûzerî, he was carrying out work among the people in the Berwar Sevdîn region, located between Başkale, Yüksekova (Gever), and Hakkâri, as part of what we then called “frontline work” (ERNK). Of course, they were guerrillas. They operated as a group of four, building relationships with the people, securing food supplies, obtaining ammunition, and also providing training to the forces. After working in those areas, he would often say: “The Kurdish spoken in Bazarcix is the same as in Colemêrg. I agree that the purest Kurdishness exists in Colemêrg, but the Kurds of Bazarcix are no different. Their accent is just a little softer.” And he would add with a smile: “We are the real Kurds.”

He had a deep affection for Hakkâri. Many times, he would ask us for texts, information, and historical accounts about the geography, history, sheikhs, tribal leaders, and social fabric of Hakkâri. He would conduct his own research too. “If I can learn the language and culture of this region,” he used to say, “then I will have learned the same as Bazarcix’s, because they are one and the same.”

Comrade Qasim truly set an example. He survived the Maraş Massacre, lived as a refugee, later moved to Germany, and studied in schools at the very heart of capitalism. Yet eventually, he changed his direction, was influenced by the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK), embraced the culture and art of Kurdistan, made profound progress in his intellectual and ideological life, and decided to join the movement. In doing so, he also came to fully recognize his Kurdish identity. He had a special interest in the Kurdish language. He conducted research on all Kurdish dialects. After learning Kurmancî, he built his entire life around it. In short, his interest in Kurdish and especially in Kurmancî, was deep and unwavering. He carried out extensive research on the language and even wrote a book on the subject. Language was his path, and from language, he turned towards research. He studied President Öcalan’s epoch-making defenses and transformative ideas in great depth. Through these writings, comrade Qasim developed a new perspective on history, one that reached across centuries.

I remember in 2017 there was a coordination meeting of the education committees. At the time, we were discussing the question: “How should we approach the history of Kurdistan?” There were two different interpretations, one from comrade Helmet, the other from comrade Qasim. Both comrades later fell as martyrs. Comrade Qasim always gave priority to the references made by President Öcalan. We often engaged in discussions on matters of education as well.

He had a deep appreciation for poetry as well. We spent one phase together at the training camp of the PKK. He would always say, “Read us a poem.” I would respond, “You read better than I do.” He would insist, “No, you read it more beautifully.” I had recited a poem during the founding congress of the PKK, and it had caught his attention. Every time we met, he would ask, “Read that poem again.” I would say, “It’s not the right time.” The poem was called Nataşa. He loved it. He even memorized it. He had also done research on Abdullah Peşêw and often recommended his work to me. He had memorized several of Peşêw’s Kurdish translations.

In 1997, during our first deployment in Feraşîn, comrade Qasim was with us. We faced many clashes with the enemy. In the autumn, enemy operations began. We had several wounded and one martyr, while the enemy lost five men due to a helicopter crash. Despite this, we said, “This is a decision, we must stay here.” A decision is a decision. On that basis, 126 of us remained there. We followed a tactical plan. We decided to move to Sîxurpaşa, stay there for two months, and then return to Feraşîn, since that area had been compromised. On 11 November, we carried all our supplies on our backs and moved to Sîxurpaşa. At that time, comrade Qasim was with us. We endured hardships together and carried out the deployment side by side. Afterwards, comrade Qasim went to the provincial conference with a few other comrades. The rest of us, 116 in total, remained there.

In the winters of 1997 and 1998, he was positioned along the Kelareş line. During the withdrawal process, I spent some time working in Europe. Still, we were together many times throughout the years. The last time we worked closely was in 2017, when we were both part of the ideology committee. I was on the education committee at the time, having just returned from Botan. He was working in the press committee. Back then, the ideology committee served as the central body and included the press, education, culture and art, and other committees. Monthly meetings were held, and every two months, expanded sessions were organized. We worked closely during these times. What always caught my attention was his strong dedication to the press. He was always trying to create something new. One day, he came to me and insisted, “You have to join a program.” I asked, “Comrade Qasim, what is the program about? You know we never reject any responsibility. We’re always ready as part of the party’s approach, so why the insistence?” He said, “Self-defense is important. We’re going to design a new format for the program. Usually, one person participates, but this time it should be two, a woman and a man.” I said, “So what you mean is that I should join as the male participant?” He answered, “Yes.” The female participant was to be selected by PAJK. He added, “PAJK doesn’t approve just anyone.” I told him, “Whoever you suggest to the Free Women’s Party of Kurdistan (PAJK), they won’t object.” Then he went and told them, and comrade Melsa was selected. That was the first time both Melsa and I participated in a program together. It was comrade Qasim who organized it. He was creative even in press work. He was always coming up with new ideas, he was a builder, he was positive. His belief and dedication were incredibly strong. He always sought to take his work one step further, to deepen and enrich it. At the same time, he was restless in the best sense. He never differentiated between tasks. He was never bureaucratic. In this sense, he had deeply revolutionary qualities.

Sadly, he fell as a martyr at a time when he was just beginning to fulfill his full potential. That caused us deep pain. At the time, we were in South Kurdistan. We had planned for him to join us so we could develop new strategies together. It was not meant to be and that hurt profoundly. I truly believe that if he had lived, he would have played a leading role in pushing the movement forward.

We are a movement nourished by the blood of martyrs. With every martyrdom, our pain grows and we feel the void. Martyrdom is always part of this path, but the ones that feel undeserved hurt the most. Today, technology and tactics have advanced greatly. Thanks to the information provided by comrades, it is possible to take precautions. But what pains us most is when martyrdom could have been prevented. I always said: I wish he had stayed. Martyrdom will always happen, but I wish he had stayed just a little longer. He was playing his role. And he fell exactly at the moment when he was fulfilling it.