An Age of Revenge

[Socialist Commonwealth]

"We spend so much time campaigning, so much effort on debate - all wasted."

Devrim slammed his fist on the table. The young Kurdish expatriate had been trying to gather support for his people and their struggle against Wazistani authorities ever since he came to Carentania. But life in Socialism, in Freedom and in Security has made the people lazy and passive. Not that Devrim could blame the Carentanians. Of course they wished to preserve their happiness and their standard of living, of course they tried to avoid a conflict with Wazistan. However, their complete rejection of any form of actual support for his brethren and sisters back at home, it was disappointing and it made him feel weak.

Had he left them alone, chasing after a distant hope of gathering support here in Carentania? Was he perhaps just trying to save his own neck, living the pleasant life of a Carentanian while his people suffered?

He wasn't alone with these thoughts and a suffocating silence filled the small room in which a number of members of the Internationalist Forum had gathered. It was a political group, aimed at solidarity between Carentania and all kinds of revolutionary movements throughout Europe. And Devrim wasn't the only one in the room who had experienced the punishing hand of a repressive government. With Devrim, there was also Zhuàng, a Jizhouese in his late twenties, Vesna, a Serbovian woman of similiar age and Sofie, who until quite recently had been a student in Batavie before being forced to leave her home country due to her opposition to the ruling party.

Several minutes the room remained spookingly silent.

Then Devrim spoke up again: "You know what? I will take to heart what has been said in the debate. The state can't help our comrades back home, it is our duty to extend our solidarity. Let's do it then."

 

[Socialist Commonwealth]

Throughout the last days, Devrim had been knocking on doors and patrolling the inner city to whip up support for his people and their plight. Gathering donations was a bit harder to accomplish in a non-monetary economy than elsewhere, but his friends in the Internationalist Forum had some useful connections to people within the Commissariate for Economic Planning. Or more specifically, the foreign trade office within the Commissariate. They could hand out export permits for rationed goods, which in turn allowed Devrim to gather material donations from Carentanian citizens, sell them in neighbouring countries and funnel the money to a bank account abroad.

This work had given Devrim some meaning an he gained the feeling that he didn't leave his people alone as he had initially felt after the defeat at the All-Workers Congress. Solidarity donations would allow the Kurdish people to either improve their miserable living standard or at least serve as legal aid to pay for lawyers and legal processes. Little thought Devrim had wasted about the chances that his money may come too late for the ones it was considered for. And so Devrim had to watch the videos of a brutal police crackdown in Kurdistan with tears in his eyes.

Once again, he was shattered.

The money on the bank, where should it go now? It was obvious from what Devrim could watch online that no one in Wazistan had any intention of giving these students a chance in front of a court, nor allow their families to rebuild their villages and cities. This, Devrim was sure, was the first act in a campaign to finally silence the Kurdish opposition and either force them under a yoke so heavy his people will never breath freely again, or - He almost choked at this though: fully exterminate the Kurdish people in Wazistan.

And Devrim could only sit here and watch things unfold in front of him. Openly crying he wanted to finish at last one thing before heading back home and so he opened his email account on this internet-café computer on a dark an cold winter night. A relative had written him about the cruel events in his hometown and he had included some details about the military strategy in his letter - said relative did always have a keen interest in anything military. But one thing that caught Devrims special attention was a name. A high ranking Wazistani army officer who had soiled his hands in the campaign against the Kurdish insurgency.

Finally, as Devrim remembered his time in the Revolutionary Army, a thought began to form. He had to call the others, immediately.

 

[Socialist Commonwealth]

"Zhuàng, I'm really thankful you came here with me."

Devrim and his comrade were sharing a rented car parked at the side of a crowded street in the middle of Wazistan. Dark haired men and women with headscarfs were running back and forth in the alleys, going about their daily activities. He had used all the money he gathered for Kurdistan to get here an prepare what was now about to unfold in front of their eyes. Taking a plane over a third country and entering Wazistan with a false passport. A daring plan, maybe even a stupid one - but they had both seen so much violence that they just had to act. Staying passive would have been the real crime. Even though Devrim had to admit he was literally shaking from fear of being discovered, there was no turning back now.

Neither of them had done something like this before. And making this decision, to come here to Wazistan and do something so daring - or perhaps foolish - hasn't been easy on neither Devrim nor Zhuàng. Vesna and Sofie had rejected the idea after some debate, but the Jizhouese had agreed with Devrim that something had to be done. Both knew there was perhaps only one way to go about this and Devrims knowledge from the one year he spent at the Revolutionary Army would sure come in handy now. Still, it was all theory up to now, all dry training. Never he had to really put his training into practise and this was leaving him slightly, no, rather considerably uneasy. Not to mention that besides his fear, the moral implications of his actions were bothering Devrim just about as much.

The whole thing was rushed. But it was also completely unexpected, hopefully, by their target. In Rabat they had found their target and soon he would pay for what he had done to the Kurdish people. A waking call, a warning, a message - anything, directed at anyone. Maybe, Devrim thought, he was doing it more for himself than for anyone else. To just not sit idly while people die at the hands of a tyrant. To make them accountable for their actions, to hold those responsible protected by the law of their country. In Kurdistan, the Wazistani state had committed countless crimes and killed many, just to assert its authority over a population that has never had a word about being represented by this state. Just because the leader of this country had decided that it was easier to kill rather than to compromise, easier to repress than to improve their situation. And because there was no one holding him or the many people following his orders responsible, he could go about his filthy business without remorse or fear of repercussions. Just like his many henchmen, just like the people who had all the blood on their hands. Those criminals who murder from behind office desks.

"The worst kind of criminals are those who have nothing to fear," it shot through Devrims head. He would use that line later on, he decided.

Then they watched Major-General Mahmoud Abed al-Zabani enter his car. Seconds later he vanished in a massive fireball.

 

[Wazistan]

President Hamid Najibullah emotionless as his motorcade approached the Interior Ministry compound in central Ijad. The news of the assassination of al-Zabani, the deputy head of the country's powerful intelligence services and top adviser to Wazistan's supreme leader Mohammed Abdul Yassin, in the heartland of the country's clerical establishment had deeply embarrassed and shaken the government. Though he was due to live in the spring, Najibullah was aware conservative forces within the ruling party and establishment would not make his remaining months any easier if he projected an image of weakness following such a brazen attack on one of the most senior officials within the regime.

"I'm assuming they've arrived as well." Najibullah to his chief of staff as they stepped out of their vehicle in front of the Ministry. "I want them here for this too."

"Yes, sir.... they arrived just before we touched down earlier."

On Najibullah's orders, Kurdish party and government officials from the Kurdish provices had been summoned to attend the emergency State National and Defense Security Council meeting. It was unclear at the moment whether the attack on Zabani, the architect of the Islamic Republic's crackdown on Kurdish protesters in Sine and other southeast provinces, was a direct reprisal for his leadership role. However, given the Kurdish separatists had a history of targeting senior officials of the Islamic Republic, it could not be ruled out.

"Mr. President, Ayman Nour (the Leader's representative at the Interior Ministry) will also be taking part at the Leader's request." Najibullah's chief of staff said as the group made their way to the situation room.

"What the security status?"

"Rabat has been placed under a state of emergency and the army has begun to set up checkpoints around the main city. The Leader's residence and offices have also been placed under heavy security."

"What about the main roads and railways?"

"Shut down until further notice."

Once they reached the situation room, Najibullah stopped and turned to address his aides.

"Alright, before we go in, we need to get something straight. This attack is by no means a coincidence but a direct challenge to this government and His Excellency himself Make no mistake, those responsible for this terrible crime will feel the wrath of the Islamic Republic."

 

[Socialist Commonwealth]

Sitting at home, the TV turned on Carentanian Public Broadcasting, Devrim watched the snow slowly fall down outside of his apartement. It was freshly falling, the first snow of the winter, covering the country in a thin veil of white silence. Public life seemed to had died for the most parts, except for children who gathered in the parks to play in the snow. A wonderful athmosphere, Devrim thought, leaning back and enjoying a hot fruit tea while not paying any attention to the movie on TV.

He and Zhuàng had gotten out of Wazistan safely the day that al-Zabani died. Everything had gone as planned and the man who had been responsible for many dead whose only fault was to be Kurdish - he had payed for his crimes. Still, Devrim could not help but feel a slight remorse for his actions. Perhaps it was just fear, masked as such, but perhaps Devrims conscience violently rejected the murder. Whatever it was, Devrim decided it was a good thing he could not go about killing a person as easy and cold-hearted as people like al-Zabani did. Even though he rationally knew it was the right action, he should always have doubts about it deep inside. As long as this was the case, Devrim was sure, he would stay on the right side of things.

The initial satisfaction over being able to defeat any entire state and its security organs had worn out. Left with mixed feelings, Devrim focused on the tasks at hand. He had heard about Wazistan having come to a standstill as the state searches for the assassins. A hectical reaction, but showed that they had gotten to them, managed to strike fear into their hearts. He and Zhuàng had done justice, but for their actions to have lasting merit, they couldn't stop now. They had to get their message across to the powerful, maing sure that they would understand: the more they try to choke the opposition, the more they, the powerful themselves, would become targets.

In a few hours, the message that Devrim had written down as a small note in Kurdish language would be sent out to different news agencies throughout Europe as an e-mail, protected by a line of proxies against being traced back. Then the world would know about them.

We have ended the life of al-Zubani for his crimes against the Kurdish people.

In his role as the deputy head of the country's intelligence services and top adviser to Wazistan's supreme leader Mohammed Abdul Yassin, al-Zubani was personally responsible for the massive crackdown on Kurdish protests in the recent days. His actions have resulted in the deaths of many good and innocent people and al-Zubani willingly accepted this when planning the anti-Kurdish violence. He could do so, because he had nothing to fear, because there was no one, no institution and no person that would persecute his crimes. Wazistan, the state of Mohammed Abdul Yassin, and its legal institutions, protected his crimes, because he did them on their orders.

We have taken justice into our own hands. Al-Zubanis crimes were obvious and proof of it is available for everyone who searchs for it. Unable to arrest him and hold a trial, we did what we could to stop more of his crimes from happening. Al-Zubani has been liquidated, not only as punishment, but as a warning to all despots of Europe, that their powerful armies, their extensive intelligence services, their secret police and their torture techniques will not protect them from punishment for their injustice.

The worst kind of criminals are those who have nothing to fear, as they can commit their crimes without regard for the consequences. This is no longer the case. We are to fear.

Signed,
Peoples Defense Network
Commando Free Kurdistan