Dr. Nikolaos Stelgias, Political Scientist – Journalist
The formation of the Coalition of Political Forces of Iranian Kurdistan (CPFIK) in February 2026, and its rapid alignment with a CIA-Mossad support apparatus, signals a decisive shift in the US-Israeli strategy against Iran. Washington appears to be reactivating a well-tested playbook: leveraging an indigenous armed opposition as a ground-force surrogate to complement an aerial campaign, in a manner closely analogous to the use of the Afghan Northern Alliance in Operation Enduring Freedom (2001). The strategic logic, the operational architecture, and the political risks all bear striking resemblance to that earlier model—yet the Iranian theatre presents complexities that Afghanistan did not.
This analysis examines the strategic end-game pursued by both Kurdish and American actors, assesses the degree to which the Northern Alliance analogy holds, identifies the critical divergences, and evaluates the likely outcomes and risks of this approach.
The Strategic Logic: Why the Kurdish Card Now?
The US-Israeli air campaign against Iran has followed the familiar pattern of modern American military interventions: overwhelming aerial superiority applied against strategic targets—nuclear facilities, IRGC command nodes, air defences, and critical infrastructure. Yet air power alone has never toppled a regime. The fundamental lesson of every American air campaign since Kosovo (1999) is that without a complementary ground component, bombing can degrade but cannot defeat a determined state adversary.
Washington has no appetite—politically or militarily—for a conventional ground invasion of Iran. The country’s size (nearly four times the area of Iraq), its mountainous terrain, its 610,000-strong armed forces plus several hundred thousand Basij paramilitaries, and the domestic political toxicity of another Middle Eastern ground war all make a direct American invasion unthinkable. The Trump administration therefore requires a surrogate ground force: one that is ideologically motivated, geographically positioned, and militarily capable of seizing and holding territory on Iranian soil.
The Iranian Kurdish opposition, freshly consolidated into the CPFIK, fits this requirement more closely than any other available actor. For the Iranian Kurdish parties, the current moment represents a generational opportunity. Decades of armed resistance since the 1979 Revolution have produced no territorial gains, no autonomy, and no international recognition. The PDKI, PAK, Komala, and PJAK have survived in exile camps in Iraqi Kurdistan, subject to periodic Iranian missile strikes and constrained by the political calculations of Baghdad and Erbil. The coalition’s stated objective—federalism within a post-Islamic Republic Iran, not outright independence—is itself a strategic calibration designed to make external support more palatable and to avoid alienating non-Kurdish Iranian opposition groups.
The convergence of US-Israeli military action, internal Iranian unrest (building since the Mahsa Amini protests of 2022), and the formation of the CPFIK creates a window of opportunity that Kurdish leaders believe may not recur. Yet they are acutely aware that the history of US-Kurdish relations is a chronicle of instrumentalization and abandonment: 1975 (the Algiers Accord, when the Shah and the CIA abandoned Iraqi Kurds overnight), 1991 (the post-Gulf War uprising left unsupported until the safe haven was established), 2019 (Trump’s withdrawal from northern Syria, leaving the SDF exposed to Turkish attack). This awareness explains the CPFIK’s insistence on political assurances, a no-fly zone, and the destruction of Iranian weapons depots before committing to offensive operations.
The Northern Alliance Analogy: How Close Is the Parallel?
In October 2001, the United States faced a structurally similar problem: it needed to topple the Taliban regime in Afghanistan but could not deploy large-scale conventional ground forces in the immediate term. The solution was an alliance with the Northern Alliance (United Islamic Front), a coalition of Afghan militias under commanders like Mohammed Fahim, Abdul Rashid Dostum, and Ismail Khan. CIA paramilitary teams and US Special Forces embedded with these forces, providing targeting intelligence, close air support, and logistical assistance, while the Northern Alliance provided the ground manpower. The result was the rapid collapse of Taliban control across most of the country within weeks.
The model rested on several pillars: a pre-existing armed opposition with territorial knowledge and ideological motivation; American air supremacy that neutralized the adversary’s heavy weapons and defensive positions; small-footprint US intelligence and special operations presence on the ground; and a political framework (the Bonn Agreement) that promised the proxy forces a role in post-conflict governance.
The parallels are unmistakable. The CPFIK represents a pre-existing, ideologically motivated armed opposition with decades of operational experience in the border regions of northwestern Iran. The US-Israeli air campaign provides the same function as the 2001 bombing of Taliban positions: degrading the regime’s conventional military advantage and creating openings for ground forces. CIA and Mossad are reportedly embedding advisory and logistics support with Kurdish units, replicating the role of the CIA’s Special Activities Division in Afghanistan. And Trump’s public endorsement of the Kurdish offensive, however hedged by White House denials of formal authorization, mirrors the political signaling that preceded the Northern Alliance’s advance on Kabul.
The operational concept is the same: use air power to break the enemy’s conventional defences, then employ local proxies to occupy the vacuum, creating “facts on the ground” that accelerate the regime’s fragmentation.
However, the analogy has limits—and the divergences may prove more consequential than the similarities.
Adversary State Capacity: Weak, isolated Taliban regime with no air force or heavy armour Iran: regional military power with ballistic missiles, drones, and 610,000+ troops
Proxy Force Size: The Northern Alliance with ~15,000–20,000 fighters controlling 10–15% of Afghanistan; CPFIK: several thousand fighters in exile camps in Iraqi Kurdistan, controlling 0% of Iranian territory
Ethnic Demography: Afghan Northern Alliance represented ~40–45% of population (Tajik, Uzbek, Hazara) Iranian Kurds constitute ~10% of Iran’s population, concentrated in the northwest
Neighbouring State Support: TheNorthern Alliance enjoyed Russian, Indian, and according to some sources Iranian backing; CPFIK operates from Iraqi Kurdistan, whose government publicly denies involvement and opposes the operation
Regime Cohesion: The Taliban of 20011 had fragmented tribal loyalties, limited institutional depth: The Islamic Republic has deep-state apparatus (IRGC, Basij, intelligence services) with 45 years of institutional consolidation
Post-Conflict Governance: The Bonn Agreement provided a political roadmap before the offensive. No equivalent political framework exists for a post-Islamic Republic Iran
The most critical divergence is the disparity in adversary state capacity. The Taliban in 2001 had no air force, no integrated air defence, no ballistic missile arsenal, and no drone capability. Iran possesses all of these, along with asymmetric warfare networks across the region (Hezbollah, Iraqi militias, Houthis) that can impose costs on the US and its allies far beyond the immediate theatre of operations. A Kurdish ground offensive into northwestern Iran will face resistance of a qualitatively different order than what the Northern Alliance encountered.
The End-Game: Competing Objectives
The American strategic objective is not necessarily the conquest of Iran or even the direct overthrow of the Islamic Republic by Kurdish forces. Rather, the end-game appears to involve several layered objectives.
First, regime destabilization through territorial fragmentation. If CPFIK forces can seize and hold even modest territory in Iranian Kurdistan—particularly border towns or provincial centres—this creates a demonstration effect: proof that the regime cannot defend its own periphery. This is intended to catalyse internal fractures within the IRGC and regular military, encouraging defections and mutinies.
Second, strategic diversion. A ground front in the northwest forces Iran to divert military resources away from other theatres—the Persian Gulf, the Strait of Hormuz, the Iraqi border, and its proxy networks in Lebanon and Yemen. This relieves pressure on Israel and US naval forces and degrades Iran’s ability to conduct retaliatory asymmetric operations.
Third, political leverage. A Kurdish-held enclave in northwestern Iran would provide Washington with a bargaining chip in any future negotiation, whether over Iran’s nuclear programme, its regional behaviour, or a broader political settlement. It would also serve as a base for expanded intelligence operations and further destabilization efforts.
Fourth, domestic political narrative. For the Trump administration, a Kurdish ground offensive that appears to be led by local forces—rather than American troops—allows the projection of military success without the political liability of American casualties. The “light footprint” model is politically indispensable.
The CPFIK’s objectives are both more existential and more constrained. The coalition seeks: recognition of Kurdish national rights in any post-regime political settlement; a federal or autonomy arrangement within Iran’s borders (not independence, which would alienate Turkey, Iraq, and most of the international community); international guarantees against regime reprisals; and the establishment of a Kurdish political entity with democratic governance structures.
The Komala Party’s insistence on local elections in liberated areas is significant: it signals an awareness that military gains must be immediately translated into political legitimacy. The CPFIK understands, from the Kurdish experience in Iraq and Syria, that armed control without governance institutions produces fragile, unsustainable outcomes.
Yet the Kurdish leadership also recognizes that it is operating within severe constraints. Without sustained US air cover, any territory seized would be rapidly recaptured by Iranian forces. Without political assurances from Washington, the Kurds risk being traded away in a grand bargain—as has happened repeatedly in their modern history. The Kurdish end-game is therefore conditional on American commitment, which is precisely the variable they trust least.
The Risks: Why the Analogy May Be Misleading
The most dangerous aspect of the Northern Alliance analogy is that it may encourage strategic overconfidence in Washington. Afghanistan in 2001 was a failed state ruled by an internationally isolated militia. Iran in 2026 is a regionally powerful nation-state with institutional depth, a diversified military, and a population of 88 million, of whom Kurds constitute a minority. The expectation that a few thousand Kurdish fighters, even with American air support, can replicate the Northern Alliance’s rapid success fundamentally misreads the correlation of forces.
Analysts at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies and elsewhere have warned that an externally supported ethnic insurgency may produce the opposite of the intended effect: rather than fragmenting the Iranian state, it could rally Persian, Azeri, Baloch, and other populations around the regime in a defensive nationalist response. The history of external intervention in Iran—from the 1953 coup to the Iran-Iraq War—demonstrates that foreign-backed military action consistently strengthens, rather than weakens, regime legitimacy. A Kurdish offensive supported by the CIA and Mossad is precisely the kind of “foreign plot” that the Islamic Republic’s propaganda apparatus has spent decades preparing its population to resist.
The Kurdistan Regional Government in Iraq finds itself in an acutely uncomfortable position. The CPFIK operates from Iraqi Kurdish territory, yet the KRG officially denies involvement and opposes being drawn into the conflict. President Nechirvan Barzani’s public statements reflect a genuine fear: if Iranian retaliation strikes the KRG’s territory, it could destabilize Iraqi Kurdistan’s fragile autonomy—an autonomy that depends on delicate relationships with both Baghdad and Tehran. Iran’s missile and drone strikes on Kurdish opposition bases in the Sulaimaniyah and Erbil regions in early March 2026 have already demonstrated this vulnerability.
Ankara views any empowerment of Kurdish armed groups with profound suspicion, particularly those with ties to the PKK network. PJAK, a CPFIK member, is affiliated with the PKK, which Turkey classifies as a terrorist organization. An American-backed Kurdish territorial entity in northwestern Iran—directly adjacent to Turkey’s southeastern provinces—would be perceived in Ankara as an existential threat. Turkey’s response could range from diplomatic opposition to direct military intervention, as it has demonstrated repeatedly in northern Syria and Iraq. Any US strategy that ignores Turkey’s equities in this theatre is strategically illiterate.
Perhaps the greatest risk is to the Kurds themselves. The historical pattern is unmistakable: the United States has armed, supported, and encouraged Kurdish forces when it served American strategic interests, and then withdrawn support when those interests shifted. The most recent example—the 2019 abandonment of the Syrian Kurds—occurred under the same president now endorsing the CPFIK offensive. Kurdish leaders’ demand for political assurances before committing to offensive operations reflects a hard-earned wisdom. Yet the nature of American domestic politics—particularly the volatility of the current administration—makes any such assurances inherently fragile.
Assessment and Outlook
The US strategy toward the CPFIK is, in essence, a Northern Alliance model adapted for the Iranian theatre. The operational logic is identical: indigenous proxy forces providing the ground component for an air-dominant campaign, with the objective of creating territorial facts that accelerate regime fragmentation. The appeal of this model for Washington is obvious: it promises strategic effect at minimal American cost in blood and treasure.
Yet the model’s application to Iran is fraught with risks that the Afghan precedent does not adequately capture. Iran’s state capacity, military capability, and social cohesion are of a different order than Taliban-era Afghanistan. The ethnic arithmetic is unfavourable: Kurds are a regional minority, not a near-majority coalition. The regional environment is hostile: neither the KRG, nor Baghdad, nor Ankara supports the operation. And the historical record of US-Kurdish relations provides no basis for the Kurds to trust that American support will endure beyond the immediate tactical phase.
The most likely near-term outcome is a limited Kurdish incursion into border areas of northwestern Iran, supported by US-Israeli air cover, that seizes symbolic territory but fails to trigger the broader internal uprising that Washington hopes for. Iran will retaliate with massive force—against the Kurds, against the KRG, and potentially through its regional proxy networks. The operation will produce significant humanitarian consequences in Iranian and Iraqi Kurdistan. And if American strategic priorities shift—as they did in Syria in 2019—the Kurds will once again find themselves exposed, holding territory they cannot defend, against an adversary they cannot defeat alone.
The tragedy of the Kurdish situation is structural: their geography makes them indispensable to great-power strategies of regional disruption, while their lack of statehood makes them perpetually vulnerable to abandonment once those strategies shift. The Northern Alliance model ended with the Bonn Agreement and a seat at the table of governance. The Kurdish card, historically, ends with the card being discarded.