Refusal to align with the U.S.-Israeli military campaign versus willingness to actively leverage or exploit it.
This is not a measure of who is most anti-regime in general. It is a measure of wartime posture in the current U.S.-Israeli war on Iran: who is closest to rejecting alignment with that war, and who is most willing to leverage it politically or militarily. The scale begins with the pro-Muslim Brotherhood-influenced Sunni Islamist field because this version of the visual excludes regime-linked Kurdish clerical and state actors, which would sit even farther to the left. The right end is occupied by actors most openly prepared to turn the war into an operational opportunity.
The meter should be read as a set of bands, not precise point scores. Some actors have issued clear, official statements. Others are positioned partly through interviews and high-quality reporting. That is why the evidentiary basis is strongest for Komala’s communist branch, PJAK, the Iranian Kurdish alliance itself, Khabat’s March 7 interview, Mohtadi’s March 14 interview, and Reuters’ reporting on Kurdish contacts with the United States and Israel. It is weaker for the Muslim Brotherhood milieu, which is better understood as a broader field than a single party line.
The case here rests less on a single March 2026 wartime declaration than on the sociology of these groups themselves. Jamaat-e Da‘wat wa Islah is widely understood as the main Iranian Sunni movement with Muslim Brotherhood lineage and deep Kurdish roots, while Maktab Quran has long represented a major current of Sunni political Islam in Iranian Kurdistan. Neither current is naturally positioned to serve as religious cover for a U.S.-Israeli-backed Kurdish military push into Iran. Their worldview is shaped far more by Islamist reformism, communal conservatism, and hostility to Israeli regional war than by any logic of external military alignment - for instance Da‘wat wa Islah's close ties with Hamas are well known. For that reason, this milieu belongs on the left half of the chart. However, it must be noted that the placement is an inference drawn from structure and orientation rather than a single clean wartime statement.
This is one of the strongest placements on the chart. Komala’s communist branch did not merely avoid the wartime coalition. It explained why. In its March 6 statement on refusing to join the alliance, the leadership said that aligning with U.S. and Israeli policies toward Iran and Kurdistan has no place in its strategy. Just as important, the same text objected to a future in which armed parties divide power among themselves, insisting instead that authority should pass to elected popular institutions and that party weapons should not remain in partisan hands after political change. That places this actor clearly on the refusal side of the scale. It remains anti-regime, but it rejects the idea that Kurdish politics should be folded into an externally driven war project or that armed party competition should define the post-regime order.
PJAK belongs in the middle because it tries to hold two positions at once. On the one hand, it insists that the current Iran-U.S.-Israel war is not the war of Iran’s nationalities, the Kurdish people, or PJAK itself. On the other, it says plainly that if major structural change unfolds inside Iran, it is prepared to assume a major vanguard role in East Kurdistan and remains committed to the duties of the Kurdish coalition. Its Newroz statement framed the moment as one in which peoples must shape their own fate or risk once again having it decided for them by others. That is not the language of passive anti-war distance, but neither is it the language of a faction openly marketing itself as a wartime auxiliary of Washington or Israel. PJAK therefore sits between doctrinal refusal and overt war opportunism, anti-regime and potentially activist, but still committed to a distinct third-line political identity.
KDPI sits at the lower end of the war-exploitation cluster because it has been more restrained and less like a faction chasing wartime visibility and more like a party preparing to claim political legitimacy in a transition. While the statement read by its leader at Iranian Kurdish coalition’s founding statement is explicit about overthrowing the Islamic Republic, securing Kurdish self-determination, and building both political and field coordination. Mustafa Hijri then framed the alliance as a body meant not only to lead a united struggle but also to administer Iranian Kurdistan in a transitional phase and oversee free elections. All of that places KDPI clearly on the right half of the scale. But KDPI’s tone remains more institutional than theatrical. It speaks in the language of transition management, governance, and representational authority. That caution reflects the behavior of an older, broader, more deeply rooted nationalist party that has more to lose from looking like a disposable wartime proxy and more to gain from preserving the image of a credible future governing actor.
Mohtadi’s Komala sits high on the scale because its posture is best understood as conditionally ambitious rather than immediately eager. In early March, the party’s Washington representative said the Kurdish factions remained in a defensive position and rejected claims that they were opening a military front or receiving foreign military support. Mohtadi’s own March 10 interview then stressed that Komala would defend itself but would not send its men “to the slaughter.” Even so, he later laid out one of the most expansive conditional wartime scenarios of any party leader, arguing that with U.S. protection and support Kurdish forces could remove Iranian forces, control Kurdish cities, protect civilians, and prevent chaos. His caution also reflects the political position he occupies inside a fractured opposition landscape: unlike some rivals, Mohtadi has tried to keep one foot in broader all-Iran opposition politics, including engagement with monarchist currents, while also pushing back against Reza Pahlavi’s rhetoric toward Kurdish parties. That combination explains the placement. Mohtadi is more restrained than Kaabi in immediate tone, but more developed in his conditional vision of wartime authority. He is not merely talking about seizing an opportunity. He is thinking in terms of what kind of Kurdish order could follow if outside protection made entry viable.
Kaabi belongs slightly to the right of Mohtadi in public rhetoric because he sounds more openly opportunistic in the present tense. In his March 8 interview, he denied serious contacts with Washington at that stage, but in the same breath said that when conditions become favorable the Iranian Kurdish opposition will exploit the opportunity for the benefit of its people, that the Kurdish movement has the right to exploit circumstances, and that its relations with the West are now stronger than before. That is more openly forward-leaning than Mohtadi’s defensive language. The deeper logic is organizational, not ideological. The Komala field is fragmented, competitive, and marked by rival claims to legitimacy. In that setting, harder rhetoric does political work. It helps a faction show that it is not secondary, not passive, and not less relevant than its rivals at a moment when external actors are openly discussing Kurdish military possibilities. Kaabi therefore sits above KDPI because he is more openly opportunistic, and slightly above Mohtadi in immediate tone, even if the two still overlap heavily.
Khabat sits above the Kaabi-Mohtadi cluster because it has spoken in a more directly operational register than either of them. Babasheikh Hosseini told Al Jazeera that planning had been underway for a long time, that conditions had become more favorable, that there was a strong probability of action, that a ground operation was highly likely, and that Americans had contacted the group through various channels. That language is unusually direct. It is not just opportunistic; it is close to operational signaling. The structural explanation matters too. Khabat is one of the smaller Kurdish parties with limited appeal inside Iranian Kurdistan. Smaller actors often gain the most from maximal wartime clarity because visibility itself becomes political capital. In that sense, Khabat’s placement reflects both what it said and what its position in the party ecosystem rewards.
PAK belongs at the far end of the spectrum: It is not there because it has demonstrated the strongest independent capacity but because it has shown the greatest rhetorical willingness to attach itself to an externally backed wartime opening. Reuters reported that Israel had been backing Kurdish plans to seize towns near Iran’s western border and identified PAK among the factions involved in the discussions, while also noting that success would depend heavily on U.S. and Israeli air support. PAK is one of the smaller parties with limited appeal inside Iranian Kurdistan. Put together, that points to a party whose strongest asset in the current moment is not autonomous force projection but maximal rhetorical and political entrepreneurship. PAK sits farthest right because it is the actor most willing to turn the war into a headline, a bargaining chip, and a claim to future relevance, even while its real room for unilateral action remains limited.