Following the tumultuous final months of 2019, the new year opened with a substantial threat to Iraq’s security and stability. The killing of Qassem Soleimani, commander of the Iranian Revolutionary Guards' Quds force, and Abu Mahdi al-Muhandis, deputy head of the Popular Mobilisation Forces threatens to reshape the country’s political environment, undermine the hard-fought gains of the international coalition against ISIS and to transform the country to a battleground once more in the conflict between the US and Iran. Meanwhile, the root causes of the protest movement remain, Iraq’s stunted economy continues to fester and reconstruction efforts in many of the areas worst-hit by the occupation of ISIS have stalled.

At this roundtable, part of the Iraq Initiative project, experts will discuss the latest developments and posit what the likely escalation of conflict will mean for Iraq’s politics, society and economy in 2020.

Attendance at this event is by invitation only. 

Following the US strike on Qassem Solaimani and Abu Mehdi al-Muhandis, populist cleric Muqtada al-Sadr has violently cracked down on youth-led protests in Iraq.

His paramilitaries and ‘blue hats’ –  supposedly created to protect protestors from state and allied parastatal security forces – sought to end the months-long demonstrations by attacking the places where protesters have camped since October. In Baghdad’s Tahrir Square, they successfully captured the famous Turkish restaurant which had become a symbol of Iraq’s ‘October revolution’. 

Once the champion of Iraq’s protest movement, Sadr has seemingly changed course and now leads the counter-protests. This reversal has mystified many, from Iraqis who saw Sadr as an ally in their struggle for reform against an impenetrable elite to foreign diplomats who hoped Sadr could help pushback against Iranian influence in Iraq. 

Yet this is not the first time that Sadr has drastically redefined his position. Since 2003, he has gone from Shia sectarian militia leader to pro-democracy reformist and Iraqi nationalist.

And in the past few months, he has given mixed signals, both supporting and criticising the protesters. The most recent incidents of Sadrist violence targeting demonstrators provoked a societal backlash, prompting Sadr to change tack once more and announce that he would disband the blue hats and investigate their crimes against protesters.

Sadr and the paramilitaries

Sadr’s latest change of course may seem to flow directly from the US assassination of Qassem Soleimani and Abu Mahdi al-Muhandis and the ensuing vacuum in the Shia paramilitary sphere. Prior to this move, the Sadrists were on the defensive, outflanked and outgunned by the growing coercive and political power of a constellation of Shia armed groups coalescing under Muhandis’s de facto leadership. Many of these groups competed for Sadr’s base, including Qais al-Khazali’s Asa’ib ahl al-Haq and Akram al-Kaabi’s Harakat Hezbollah al-Nujaba.  

With Muhandis out of the picture, Sadr could reclaim the space by pushing his own right hand, Kadhem al-Issawi (Abu Do’a), to be the new centre of the paramilitary field and forcing competitors, including Khaza’li and Kaabi, to rally around his leadership.

Iran, in the short term, appears to be going along with this solution to bring more coherence to its allied forces in Iraq as it seeks to counter what it regards as US aggression. Iran also hopes that bringing Sadr back in will help neutralize the protest movement which threatens its stake in Iraqi politics. 

The most visible sign of this Iran-brokered rapprochement was the 13 January meeting in Qom attended by Sadr, Issawi and several senior militia commanders including Laith al-Khazali (Qais al-Khazali’s brother). 

Following the Qom meeting, a pattern of tit-for-tat violence and assassinations between the Sadrists’ Saraya al-Salam and Asa’ib Ahl al-Haq – ongoing since the start of the October protests in Iraq – ceased.

A fragmented movement?

However, while the US strikes certainly changed Sadr’s political calculations, there are more persistent fundamentals at work that help explain his change of course. The first of these relates to long-standing fragmentation within the movement. This exists not only within Sadrist paramilitaries, but within the movement’s clerical networks, and also applies to the ties that bind the Sadrist leadership to its popular base. This fragmentation makes it difficult for Sadr to impose a coherent politics on his followers from the top down.

There are signs that Sadr’s recent shift in position has exacerbated this fragmentation. His attempt to reposition the movement’s base within the ‘resistance axis’ that supports the Shia militias in Iraq has only been partially successful. On 24 January, responding to the US assassinations, Sadr called for a million-man march focused on expelling US forces from Iraq. However, turnout was poor, especially given the huge logistical support for the march, and it lasted only a few hours.

Equally revealing, when Sadr called on his supporters to vacate the squares, many refused. One Sadrist protester in Baghdad’s Tahrir Square told the authors: ‘We’ve been camping with our brothers and sisters for four months. Why should we leave them to die?’

Meanwhile, fissures have also opened up within the Sadrists’ clerical elite. One senior Sadrist cleric, for example, is openly defying Sadr’s authority and siding with the revolutionaries in Nasiriyah. 

Sadr’s attempt to dominate the paramilitary sphere is also unlikely to prove any more successful than his many previous failed attempts since 2003. He is neither trusted nor respected by the leaders of other groups. The Iran-brokered rapprochement is already showing signs of weakness. Two recent assassinations of Saraya al-Salam leaders in Basra and Maysan indicate a potential renewal of power struggles between the Sadrist militia and Asa’ib Ahl al-Haq.  

Sadr is not a revolutionary

Sadr has never been a revolutionary, but someone who seeks to leverage a role as both ‘spoiler’ and ‘stabilizer’ to maximise his political leverage. This strategy is ultimately oriented towards sustaining Iraq’s extant political system, not its overthrow. Forced to choose between the roles of revolutionary or maintainer of the status quo, he has opted for the latter. 

The protests that erupted in 2019 were not the same movement that Sadr led from 2015. The 2015 protests were an elite-driven phenomenon, integrated into the political field and carefully calibrated to exert pressure on the elite towards gradual reform. 

By contrast, the 2019 demonstrations spring from a youth-led, bottom-up mobilization that rejects politicization and seeks a more radical form of change. Chatham House surveys in a forthcoming paper reveal that the protesters are younger that those who protested in 2015-16. Fewer have permanent employment. Instead of demanding better services or jobs, they are focusing wholesale transformation of the post-2003 political system.

A Sadrist official told the authors that their movement initially joined the protests in October 2019 expecting a similar reform-orientation to the protests which Sadr had previously led. However, according to him, the protesters failed to come forward with reasonable demands or alternative names for prime minister. He believed the protests would fade, and many would regret the ‘wasted time and blood’. 

Sadr’s relations with Iran

A final long-term factor at play is Sadr’s receding autonomy from Iran. Ever since his movement’s electoral victory in May 2018, Sadr came under enormous pressure to reconcile with the political wing of the Iranian-allied parastatal armed groups in the formation of a new government acceptable to Iran.

Over the last year, Sadr has moved even closer to Iran, spending more time in Qom. Iran has offered Sadr security from his paramilitary rivals (such as Asa’ib ahl al-Haq), convincing Sadr that he is safer in Iran than Iraq. Moreover, Sadr is undertaking religious training in Qom, and may see this as a chance to enhance his standing in the Shia religious field as many look towards a future beyond the elderly Najaf-based marja Ali al-Sistani.

By keeping Sadr in Qom, Iran appears to be trying to isolate him from what they regard as negative influences. As tensions between the Sadrists and other protest groups intensified, efforts were made by some protest leaders and allied political groups to reach Sadr in Qom and try to persuade him to change course or restrain the worst abuses of his forces. However, this delegation was unable to make contact with Sadr. Those involved told the authors they have resorted to communicating with local Sadrist leaders in Najaf, Babil, Basra and Baghdad. 

Crossing a line

This is a transformative moment for the Sadrists. Sadr is now defying the popular sentiments driving protests across central and southern Iraq. The sense of betrayal among former allies and friends of the Sadrists is palpable. One senior activist involved in cooperation with the Sadrists wrote that, no matter what moves Sadr makes next, the cleric has ‘terminated all partnership with the protesters,’ and ‘shattered the framework for cooperation’. A line has thus been crossed that Sadr cannot reverse; he will not be able to recover what he has now lost. 

Iran, also, does not see Sadr as a dependable ally, and will look to isolate and side-line the cleric when the opportunity arises. Thus, in seeking to exploit a crisis for short-term gain, Sadr may well have sealed his fate – in the long term – as a declining force in Iraqi politics.

After a summer of regional tensions and continued uncertainty regarding the future of the JCPOA, the Chatham House MENA Programme held a closed workshop to examine the impact of the Trump administration’s maximum pressure campaign.

Discussions focused on the domestic developments and challenges inside Iran, prospects for new negotiations with Iran, and the regional issues facing the country. Participants also considered the differences between American and European approaches towards Iran.

 

Water is a critical issue for Iraq’s future stability and prosperity. Only a few decades ago, the country was one of the most fertile in the region, with two major rivers flowing through it. Today, national and transboundary pollution, mismanagement, and debilitating cycles of conflict have contributed to a situation where only half of current water needs are being met, and where an 80% reduction in the flow of water down the Tigris and Euphrates rivers has led to the loss of millions of acres of formerly productive land and the displacement of rural communities.

Water scarcity can be a driver of violence and conflict. Tribal conflicts over water sources have erupted sporadically in the south and the contamination of municipal water which led to the hospitalization of some 118,000 citizens was a trigger for the large-scale protests in Basra in late 2018. Without concerted action by national and local governments, companies and international agencies, the situation will only worsen as higher temperatures and reduced rainfall drive rural-to-urban migration and increase the risk of drought, food insecurity and water-related diseases.

At this roundtable, part of the Chatham House Iraq Initiative, experts will discuss the domestic, regional and international factors that continue to exacerbate the water crisis in Iraq, and propose solutions, including technical innovation, public sector capacity-building and greater international cooperation, that might contribute to effective state-building, build resilience to the effects of climate change and reduce the risk of further conflict.

The first months of 2020 have proven tumultuous for Iraq. The US killing of Iranian General Qassem Soleimani in January threatened to engulf the region in war and led to continued tit-for-tat violence between the US and Iran that has become almost a daily reality in Baghdad.

Amid the ongoing protests that since last October have challenged the social contract and led to a violent response claiming 600 deaths and injuring tens of thousands, the government is still without a prime minister after Adil abd al-Mehdi's resignation in November 2019, leaving the country directionless.

Most recently, the spread of COVID-19 threatens to expose a mismanaged healthcare system. At the same time, the rapid fall in the price of oil has impacted the government's ability to respond to or cope with these crises.

At this virtual roundtable, part of the Chatham House Iraq Initiative, experts explore these developments and try to unpack the implications for Iraq’s fragile peace and stability.

Iraq is a country already in turmoil, suffering fallout from the major military escalation between the US and Iran, mass protests calling for an end to the post-2003 political system, and a violent government crackdown killing more than 600 and wounding almost 30,000 - all presided over by a fragmented political elite unable to agree upon a new prime minister following Adil abd al-Mehdi’s resignation back in November.

COVID-19 introduces yet another threat to the fragile political order, as the virus exposes Iraq’s ineffective public health system dismantled through decades of conflict, corruption and poor governance.

Iraqi doctors are making every effort to prepare for the worst-case scenario, but they do so with huge structural challenges. The Ministry of Health lacks enough ICU beds, human resources, ventilators, and personal protective equipment (PPE). Bogged down in bureaucracy, the ministry is struggling to process procurements of equipment and medications, and some doctors have made purchases themselves.

But individual efforts can only go so far as many Iraqi doctors are concerned the official numbers of confirmed COVID-19 cases do not reflect the complexity of the situation on the ground.

The ministry relies predominately upon patients self-presenting at designated public hospitals and has only just begun community-based testing in areas of suspected clusters. Reliance on self-presentation requires a level of trust between citizens and state institutions, which is at a historic low. This gap in trust – 17 years in the making – puts Iraq’s COVID-19 response particularly at risk.

Iraq’s myriad vulnerabilities

Certain social and political factors leave Iraq uniquely exposed to the coronavirus. The country’s vulnerability is tied directly to its social, religious and economic interconnections with Iran, an epicenter of the pandemic.

Exchanges between Iran and Iraq are concentrated in two regions, with strong cross-border links between Iraqi and Iranian Kurds in the north-east, and Iraqi and Iranian Shia pilgrims in the south. Cross-border circulation of religious pilgrims is particularly concerning, as they can result in mass ritual gatherings.

The high number of confirmed cases in the southern and northern peripheries of the country puts a spotlight on Iraq's failure in managing healthcare. The post-2003 government has failed to either rebuild a robust centralized healthcare system, or to pave the way for a federalized model.

Caught in an ambiguous middle between a centralized and federalized model, coordination across provinces and hospitals during the coronavirus crisis has neither reflected strong management from Baghdad nor robust ownership at the governorate level.

This problem is part of a wider challenge of managing centre-periphery relations and federalism, which since 2003 has not worked effectively. Baghdad has provided all 18 provinces with instructions on testing and treatment, but only a handful have enough resources to put them into practice. Advanced testing capacity is limited to the five provinces with WHO-approved centers, with the remaining 13 sending swabs to Baghdad.

But the greatest challenge to Iraq’s COVID-19 response is the dramatic deterioration of state-society relations. Studies reveal a profound societal distrust of Iraq’s public healthcare institutions, due to corruption and militarization of medical institutions. Numerous videos have recently circulated of families refusing to turn over sick members - particularly women - to medical teams visiting households with confirmed or suspected cases.

As medical anthropologist Omar Dewachi notes, the ‘moral economy of quarantine’ in Iraq is heavily shaped by a history of war and its impact on the relationship between people and the state. Although local and international media often interpret this reluctance to undergo quarantine as a matter of social or tribal norms, distrusting the state leads many families to refuse quarantine because they believe it resembles a form of arrest.

The management of coronavirus relies upon an overt convergence between medical institutions and security forces as the federal police collaborate with the Ministry of Health to impose curfews and enforce quarantine. This means that, troublingly, the same security establishment which violently cracked down on protesters and civil society activists is now the teeth behind Iraq’s COVID-19 response.

Without trust between society and the political class, civil society organizations and protest movements have directed their organizational structure towards awareness-raising across Iraq. Key religious authorities such as Grand Ayatollah Sistani have called for compliance to the curfew and mobilized charitable institutions.

However, such efforts will not be enough to make up for the lack of governance at the level of the state. In the short-term, Iraq’s medical professionals and institutions are in dire need of technical and financial support. In the long-term, COVID-19 is a lesson that Iraq’s once robust public healthcare system needs serious investment and reform.

COVID-19 may prove to be another catalyst challenging the ‘muddle through’ logic of the Iraqi political elite. International actors have largely been complicit in this logic, directing aid and technical support towards security forces and political allies in the interest of short-term stability, and neglecting institutions which Iraqis rely on for health, education, and well-being.

The response to the crisis requires cooperation and buy-in of a population neglected by 17 years of failed governance. This is a seminal event that may push the country to the brink, exposing and stirring underlying tensions in state-society relations.

This analysis was produced as part of the Iraq Initiative.

In the face of the COVID-19 pandemic, many global leaders have invoked war analogies – from the Pearl Harbor attack to the collective spirit on display during the Second World War – to highlight past lessons learned or rally their populations.

For Iran’s leadership, more recent war analogies hold resonance and help explain the ideological and political conundrum limiting an effective COVID-19 response. While the Islamic Republic has weathered a multitude of challenges, COVID-19 is putting unprecedented strain on Iran’s already fragile, heavily-sanctioned economy and further exposing domestic political fissures amid ongoing international tensions.

Iran has been identified as the regional epicentre of the pandemic with a steadily rising number of deaths, including several of the country’s political and military elite. Yet the Iranian government has not evoked the collective memory of the war as an opportunity for national resistance and mobilization.

Sluggish and poorly managed

This is unsurprising, because thus far the Iranian government’s response to COVID-19 has been sluggish and poorly managed. After an initial slow response, Iran then attempted to downplay the impact of the virus, covering up the number of cases and deaths and blaming the United States, before implementing a poorly coordinated action plan marred by government infighting.

For the Iranian leadership, the Iran-Iraq war has been the single most influential and defining period – it has impacted its political ideology, domestic and security policies and international relations. More than half a million Iranians died, and a paranoid worldview and sense of isolation was cemented among many elite leaders such as Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei.

The war created a valiant culture of leadership from Qassem Soleimani to presidents Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Hashemi Rafsanjani and, over time, has resulted in the development of Iran’s asymmetrical defense capabilities.

The war enabled a dark purge of political opponents and the gradual birth of Iran’s reformist faction, all while the ethos of sacrifice and martyrdom was linked to the collective notions of resistance.

These would be carried forward in other resistance campaigns both regional and economic. Most defining was Ayatollah Khomeini’s infamous 1988 decision to ‘drink the poisoned chalice’ and end the long war. Three decades later, Iran continues to contend with those outcomes.

To acknowledge that the COVID-19 crisis could have equally profound consequences would add further pressure to the Islamic Republic at a time of incomparable vulnerability. Even before this crisis, the Iranian government linked sanctions to economic warfare, making future negotiations conditional on sanctions relief.

Iranian hardliners used the opportunity to promote Iran’s subsistence-based resistance economy designed to insulate Iran’s economy from external shocks such as sanctions. While both groups recognize the economic urgency, their contending strategies help explain the muddled government response and the ongoing ideological competition between the political elites.

Rouhani has argued that a full lockdown of the Iranian economy is impossible because it is already under significant strain from sanctions - the Iranian economy experienced a 9.5% contraction in 2019 and is expected to worsen in the coming year.

That said, through Iran’s New Year holidays the government did take action to slow the spread of the virus, discouraging travel and shutting schools, pilgrimage sites and cancelling Friday prayers. Finally, on 4 April, after receiving permission from Khamenei to do so, Rouhani withdrew $1 billion from Iran’s National Development Fund and is distributing the money through loans and credits to 23 million households.

Aid from a number of Iran’s parastatal agencies was also announced. Conversely, in his annual New Year’s speech the supreme leader securitized the crisis by laying blame on the United States for spreading the virus as a form of biological terrorism. Iran’s army chief of staff Major General Bagheri was tasked with building hospitals and the Islamic Revolution Guard Corps given authority to clear the streets.

The recent expulsion of Médecins Sans Frontières from Iran highlights the mix of paranoia and resistance culture still on display. US sanctions on Iran have significantly weakened Iran’s economy and limited Tehran’s ability to purchase much needed medical supplies and equipment. Unable to access its foreign reserves due to sanctions, the Rouhani government has applied for a $5 billion loan from the IMF.

European countries alongside a number of US members of congress have appealed to the Trump administration to ease sanctions on humanitarian grounds. While Washington continues to pursue its steadfast approach, referring to Iran’s campaign as a ‘sanctions relief scam’, Germany, France, and the UK have offered $5 million in aid and launched INSTEX – a trading mechanism designed to circumvent sanctions to allow non-sanctioned humanitarian trade.

The impact of coronavirus on Iranian society remains to be seen. But the impact of sanctions has placed heavy economic and psychological burden on the people. Feeling abandoned by the Iranian state and the United States could produce a mix of contradictory nationalistic and independent impulses.

The social contract – already fragile amid protests and government repression – reveals declining trust. Without national mobilization and calls for unity reminiscent of the war period, Iranians have stepped in, highlighting the continued resilience of civil society. Support for the medical establishment has been celebrated throughout the country and on social media. Charities, the private sector - through one initiative known as Campaign Nafas (Breathe) - and diaspora groups have initiated fundraising drives and assistance measures.

Iran’s relations with the international community, and specifically the United States, remain an unresolved consequence of the war. The 2015 Iranian nuclear agreement was the closest Tehran and Washington came to resolving decades of tensions, containment and sanctions.

COVID-19 has further heightened the trajectory of tensions between Tehran and Washington suggesting that any new deal, while necessary, is not on the cards. Tit-for-tat military exchanges have been on the rise in Iraq and Yemen while American and Iranian leaders issue threats and warnings of potential escalation.

Abdullah Nasseri, an advisor to Iran’s reformists, recently stated that in order to manage the coronavirus crisis, the Iranian government needed to make a decision akin to the 1988 United Nations resolution 598 that ended war hostilities. Ayatollah Khomeini famously commented on that ceasefire, stating: ‘Happy are those who have departed through martyrdom. Unhappy am I that I still survive.… Taking this decision is more deadly than drinking from a poisoned chalice. I submitted myself to Allah's will and took this drink for His satisfaction’. 

While a similar compromise today might appear deadly to the political establishment, it is clear that a paradigm shift away from the shadows of Iran’s last war is urgently needed to manage the challenges stemming from COVID-19.

Historically, Iraq lay claim to one of the most abundant water supplies in the Middle East. But the flow of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers has reduced by up to 40% since the 1970s, due in part to the actions of neighbouring countries, in particular Turkey, upstream.

Rising temperatures and reduced rainfall due to climate change are also negatively impacting Iraq’s water reserves. Evaporation from dams and reservoirs is estimated to lose the country up to 8 billion cubic metres of water every year.

A threat to peace and stability

Shortages have dried up previously fertile land, increasing poverty in agricultural areas. Shortages have also served to fuel conflict: communities faced with successive droughts and government inertia proved to be easy targets for ISIS recruiters, who lured farmers into joining them by offering money and food to feed their families. Economic hardship for those whose livelihoods relied upon river water has also driven rural to urban migration, putting significant strain on already over-populated towns and cities, exacerbating housing, job and electricity shortages, and widening the gap between haves and have-nots.

But scarcity isn’t the most crucial element of Iraq’s water crisis – contamination is. Decades of local government mismanagement, corrupt practices and a lack of regulation of dumping (it is estimated up to 70% of Iraq’s industrial waste is dumped directly into water) has left approximately three in every five citizens without a reliable source of potable water.

In 2018, 118,000 residents of Basra province were hospitalised with symptoms brought on by drinking contaminated water, which not only put a spotlight on the inadequacies of a crumbling healthcare system but sparked mass protests and a subsequent violent crackdown.

The water crisis is also undermining the stability of the country’s federal governance model, by occasionally sparking disputes between Baghdad and the Kurdistan Regional Government, as well as between governorates in the south.

The crisis is both a symptom and a cause of poor governance. Iraq is stuck in a cycle whereby government inaction causes shortages and contamination, which result in economic losses, reduced food supply, increased prices and widespread poor health. This in turn leads to increasing levels of poverty, higher demand on services and civil unrest, increasing the pressure on a weak, dysfunctional system of government.

What can be done?

The first priority should be modernising existing water-management infrastructure - a relic of a time when the problem was an excess rather than a shortage of water (the last time Iraq’s flood defences were required was 1968). Bureaucratic hurdles, widespread corruption and an endless cycle of other crises taking precedent prevent good initiatives from being implemented or scaled up.

Diversifying energy sources to improve provision is crucial. Baghdad has a sewage treatment plant that originally ran on its own electricity source, but this capacity was destroyed in 1991 and was never replaced. The city continues to suffer from dangerous levels of water pollution because the electricity supply from the grid is insufficient to power the plant. Solar energy has great potential in sun-drenched Iraq to bridge the gaping hole in energy provision, but successive governments have chosen to focus on fossil fuels rather than promoting investment to grow the renewables sector.

Heightened tension with upstream Turkey could turn water into another cause of regional conflict. But, if approached differently, collaboration between Iraq and its neighbour could foster regional harmony.

Turkey’s elevated geography and cooler climate mean its water reserves suffer 75% less evaporation than Iraq’s. Given that Turkey’s top energy priority is the diversification of its supply of imported hydrocarbons, a win-win deal could see Turkey exchange access to its water-management infrastructure for delivery of reduced cost energy supplies from Iraq.

German-French cooperation on coal and steel in the 1950s and the evolution of economic integration that followed might provide a model for how bilateral cooperation over one issue could result in cooperation with other regional players (in this case Iran and Syria) on a range of other issues. This kind of model would need to consider the future of energy, whereby oil and gas would be replaced by solar-power exports.

These solutions have been open to policymakers for years and yet they have taken little tangible action. While there are leaders and bureaucrats with the will to act, effective action is invariably blocked by a complex and opaque political system replete with vested interests in maintaining power and wealth via a weak state and limited services from central government.

Breaking the cycle

To break this cycle, Iraq needs a group of professional and able actors outside of government to work with willing elements of the state bureaucracy as a taskforce to pressure for action and accountability. Publishing the recommendations from a hitherto withheld report produced in the aftermath of Basra’s 2018 heath crisis would be a great start.

In time, this taskforce could champion the prioritisation of water on the national agenda, the implementation of infrastructure upgrades, and hold more productive conversations with neighbour states.

With such a high degree of state fragmentation and dysfunction in Iraq, looking to the central government to provide leadership will not yield results. Engagement with a coalition of non-state actors can begin to address the water crisis and also open a dialogue around new models of governance for other critical issues. This might even be a starting point for rewriting the tattered social contract in Iraq.

This piece is based on insights and discussion at a roundtable event, Conflict and the Water Crisis in Iraq, held at Chatham House on March 9 as part of the Iraq Initiative.

On April 9, Iraqi President Barham Salih gathered the Shia, Kurdish and Sunni political blocs at the presidential palace to task head of intelligence Mustafa al-Kadhimi with forming a government.

Kadhimi is the third prime minister-designate assigned since Prime Minister Adil abd al-Mehdi resigned in November, in the wake of mass protests against government corruption and the country’s ethno-sectarian based political system.

Kadhimi’s two predecessors, Muhammad Tawfiq Allawi and Adnan al-Zurfi, both failed to form a government. This third attempt came as Iraq struggles with repeated crises since October 2019, when the government began responding with deadly force to large-scale mass protests, killing more than 600 and injuring tens of thousands.

In January, the assassination of Qasem Soleimani escalated tensions between the United States and Iran, with Iraq stuck in the middle and becoming the home for regular tit-for-tat attacks. The Islamic State — never completely defeated — took advantage of these crises and increased its attacks in disputed territories.

The outbreak of COVID-19 challenges the country’s fragile public health sector, while the decline in the price of oil will make it harder for leaders to pay the public salaries that keep the system (and patronage) moving.

What does the delay in forming a government amid multiple crises mean for the post-2003 Iraqi political system?

Iraq’s post-2003 political system is designed to withstand crisis. Over the years, political parties reflecting the country’s ethnic and sectarian divides have had a tacit understanding that crises represent a risk to their collective interests. These elite stakeholders have together weathered civil war, insurgency and multiple protests — despite deep conflicts with one another.

For instance, in September 2018 protesters attacked most major political party headquarters and the Iranian consulate in Basra, and authorities killed some 20 protesters.

Since the May election of that year, the fragmented Shia elite had been unable to even declare which side has the largest parliamentary bloc, let alone decide on a government.

But after the September crisis, the previously gridlocked parties swiftly came together to form an “understanding” that pushed through the impasse leading to the Mehdi government. In 2020, however, Iraq’s political parties were slower to come back together despite the multiple crises — far greater than 2018. The system is less able to swiftly fix itself, based primarily on the fragmentation of the elite — and their determination to prevent any challenge to their rule.

Why did the two prior attempts fail?

The two previous prime minister-designates each fell short for different reasons. When I met Allawi in February at the prime minister’s guesthouse in Baghdad, he was very clearly convinced that his mandate was to sideline the parties.

He hoped that simply choosing technocratic ministers outside the elite pact, with the support of Moqtada al-Sadr behind him, would garner support from protesters and the disillusioned public. He failed, however, because his cabinet had to go through parliament and the parties rejected what they saw a threat to the elite pact and the system.

Zurfi similarly failed after being directly appointed in March by Salih after the Shia parties failed to come up with a candidate. From the beginning, then, Zurfi faced challenges because parties were not in agreement. He attempted to directly confront his opposition, and spoke out against Iranian influence in Iraq. As a result, Zurfi was unable to even get to parliament with his proposed cabinet, as the Shia parties got back together to bring him down.

The failure of both strategies — Allawi attempting to work outside the elite party system and Zurfi trying to target certain parties — reveals tensions in Iraq’s political system. This fragmentation strains the parties’ ability to swiftly unite, and the system’s ability to withstand crises.

The endemic problems are a consequence of fragmentation, including the failure following the 2018 elections to declare governing parliamentary bloc. Moreover, after that election, newcomers into the political system (two-thirds of the MPs are serving their first term) are increasingly making their own demands and less willing to blindly toe party lines.

Can Kadhimi overcome the impasse?

Kadhimi’s appointment as prime minister-designate nonetheless is on shaky foundations. His appointment had previously faced a veto from Iran and its allied groups which make up the Fateh bloc. Kataeb Hezbollah, an armed group close to Iran and linked to the Popular Mobilization Units, issued a statement accusing Kadhimi with blood on his hands for the deaths of Soleimani and Abu Mahdi al-Muhandis.

Many Fateh bloc members had for months vetoed Kadhimi’s name due to this allegation. Immediately before Kadhimi addressed the nation for the first time, Iraqi state television broadcast a prerecorded statement by PMU (and Fateh) leader Qais al-Khazali, who had also previously accused Kadhimi of spying for the Americans and being complicit in the two killings.

Khazali, who commands the second-largest party within Fateh, accepted the party line to back Kadhimi but came out with his own conditions on television. However, the concerns about the COVID-19 crisis and the collapse of the price of oil finally brought all sides to compromise — a design of the political system.

Kadhimi has signalled he will play by the old rules with these stakeholders. Because of the magnitude of these simultaneous crises, Iraqi politics is moving back to the post-2003 norm. The ethno-sectarian based political system is geared to weather such existential crises more than it is to handling day-to-day governance. Despite the notion of “post-sectarianism” in Iraq, this system is based on ethno-sectarian political party compromise.

In his television address, Khazali, who had previously attempted to move away from sectarian language, explained that the process of selecting a prime minister is reserved to the Shia, who have the right as the majority, and not to Salih, a Kurd.

Over the years Kadhimi has expressed an admiration of the bravery of the protesters and of the importance of civil society. Many Iraqi civil society activists owe their lives to the work of the former intelligence chief. However, he has also been part of the same system that has violently suppressed protesters.

As the compromise prime minister-designate, he will find it difficult to transform his country as long as he plays by the rules of post-2003 Iraq — an irony not lost on the protesters who immediately rejected the candidacy of a man whom until recently many protesters had supported.

This article was originally published in The Washington Post

• Chatham House brought together 32 participants over a two-day period in February 2016 to discuss the US and European responses to a simulated scenario in which alleged actions by Iran threaten the sustainability of the nuclear deal. This was the second of four scenario roundtables (the first involved a conflict between China and Japan).
• Despite the inherent challenges in the initial scenario the transatlantic partners in the simulation were able to retain a strong joint position in their negotiations with Iran throughout the scenario. The principal factor enabling the US and Europe to maintain their joint negotiating position was the framework of conditions provided by the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action (JCPOA), which mandated specific actions, responses and timelines if events threatened the agreement. When in doubt, all parties in the simulation reverted to the agreed framework.
• The Europeans in the simulation seemed to view any indirect consequences of the nuclear deal as mostly positive whereas the Americans largely saw the externalities as negative. Equally, the scenario showed Iran as having different approaches towards the US and Europe respectively: willing to engage with the latter, while keeping the former in the cold.
• The greatest tensions occurred between EU member states, mainly in relation to differences over process rather than policy. Domestic factors in the US and Europe could, in the future, make maintaining a joint position towards Iran increasingly hard. In particular, potential stumbling blocks include immigration and social policies in response to the migration crisis in Europe; and, in the US, the significant political polarization around the E3/EU+3 deal.

As tensions escalate in the Middle East, US President Donald Trump has threatened to strike targets in Iran should they seek to retaliate over the killing of Qassem Soleimani. According to the president’s tweet, these sites includes those that are ‘important to Iran and Iranian culture’.

Defense Secretary Mark Esper was quick on Monday to rule out any such action and acknowledged that the US would ‘follow the laws of armed conflict’. But Trump has not since commented further on the matter.

Any move to target Iranian cultural heritage could constitute a breach of the international laws protecting cultural property. Attacks on cultural sites are deemed unlawful under two United Nations conventions; the 1954 Hague Convention for the Protection of Cultural Property during Armed Conflict, and the 1972 UNESCO World Heritage Convention for the Protection of the World Cultural and Natural Heritage.

These have established deliberate attacks on cultural heritage (when not militarily necessary) as a war crime under the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court in recognition of the irreparable damage that the loss of cultural heritage can have locally, regionally and globally.

These conventions were established in the aftermath of the Second World War, in reaction to the legacy of the massive destruction of cultural property that took place, including the intense bombing of cities, and systematic plunder of artworks across Europe. The conventions recognize that damage to the cultural property of any people means ‘damage to the cultural heritage of all mankind’. The intention of these is to establish a new norm whereby protecting culture and history – that includes cultural and historical property – is as important as safeguarding people.

Such historical sites are important not simply as a matter of buildings and statues, but rather for their symbolic significance in a people’s history and identity. Destroying cultural artefacts is a direct attack on the identity of the population that values them, erasing their memories and historical legacy. Following the heavy bombing of Dresden during the Second World War, one resident summed up the psychological impact of such destruction in observing that ‘you expect people to die, but you don’t expect the buildings to die’.

Targeting sites of cultural significance isn’t just an act of intimidation during conflict. It can also have a lasting effect far beyond the cessation of violence, hampering post-conflict reconciliation and reconstruction, where ruins or the absence of previously significant cultural monuments act as a lasting physical reminder of hostilities.

For example, during the Bosnian War in the 1990s, the Old Bridge in Mostar represented a symbol of centuries of shared cultural heritage and peaceful co-existence between the Serbian and Croat communities. The bridge’s destruction in 1993 at the height of the civil war and the temporary cable bridge which took its place acted as a lasting reminder of the bitter hostilities, prompting its reconstruction a decade later as a mark of the reunification of the ethnically divided town.

More recently, the destruction of cultural property has been a feature of terrorist organizations, such as the Taliban’s demolition of the 1,700-year-old Buddhas of Bamiyan in 2001, eliciting international condemnation. Similarly, in Iraq in 2014 following ISIS’s seizure of the city of Mosul, the terrorist group set about systematically destroying a number of cultural sites, including the Great Mosque of al-Nuri with its leaning minaret, which had stood since 1172. And in Syria, the ancient city of Palmyra was destroyed by ISIS in 2015, who attacked its archaeological sites with bulldozers and explosives.

Such violations go beyond destruction: they include the looting of archaeological sites and trafficking of cultural objects, which are used to finance terrorist activities, which are also prohibited under the 1954 Hague Convention.

As a war crime, the destruction of cultural property has been successfully prosecuted in the International Criminal Court, which sentenced Ahmad Al-Faqi Al-Mahdi to nine years in jail in 2016 for his part in the destruction of the Timbuktu mausoleums in Mali. Mahdi led members of Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb to destroy mausoleums and monuments of cultural and religious importance in Timbuktu, irreversibly erasing what the chief prosecutor described as ‘the embodiment of Malian history captured in tangible form from an era long gone’.

Targeting cultural property is prohibited under customary international humanitarian law, not only by the Hague Convention. But the Convention sets out detailed regulations for protection of such property, and it has taken some states a lot of time to provide for these.

Although the UK was an original signatory to the 1954 Hague Convention, it did not ratify it until 2017, introducing into law the Cultural Property (Armed Conflicts) Act 2017, and setting up the Cultural Protection Fund to safeguard heritage of international importance threatened by conflict in countries across the Middle East and North Africa.

Ostensibly, the UK’s delay in ratifying the convention lay in concerns over the definition of key terms and adequate criminal sanctions, which were addressed in the Second Protocol in 1999. However, changing social attitudes towards the plunder of antiquities, and an alarming increase in the use of cultural destruction as a weapon of war by extremist groups to eliminate cultures that do not align with their own ideology, eventually compelled the UK to act.

In the US, it is notoriously difficult to get the necessary majority for the approval of any treaty in the Senate; for the Hague Convention, approval was achieved in 2008, following which the US ratified the Convention in 2009.

Destroying the buildings and monuments which form the common heritage of humanity is to wipe out the physical record of who we are. People are people within a place, and they draw meaning about who they are from their surroundings. Religious buildings, historical sites, works of art, monuments and historic artefacts all tell the story of who we are and how we got here. We have a responsibility to protect them.

This article explores the role of religion in political transnationalism using the case of the Shi'a Iraqi diaspora since 2003. The article focuses on three areas that capture important trends in Shi'a transnationalism and their implications for transnational Shi'a identity politics. These include Shi'a diasporic politics, transnational Shi'a civic activism, and the cultural production of Iraqi Shi'a identity through pilgrimages, rituals and new practices. It is argued that understanding Shi'a Islam and identity formation requires adopting a transnational lens. The evolution of Shi'a Islam is not only a result of the dictates of the Shi'a clerical centres, and how they influence Shi'a populations abroad, but also the transnational interrelationships and links to holy shrine cities, Shi'i national and international politics, humanitarianism and commemorations and rituals. The article demonstrates that Shi'a political transnationalism is unexceptional in that it echoes much of the literature on diasporic politics and development where diaspora involve themselves from afar in the politics and societies of their countries of origin. At the same time, it shows the exceptionalism of Shi'a diasporic movements, in that their motivations and mobilizations are contributing to the reification of sectarian geographical and social borders, creating a transnationalism that is defined by largely Shi'a networks, spaces, actors and causes. The case of Shi'a political transnationalism towards Iraq shows that this is increasing the distance between Shi'is and Iraq's other communities, simultaneously fragmenting Iraq's national unity while deepening Shi'a identity and politics both nationally and supra-nationally.

This article sets out to bring sound and music to the field of visual studies in International Relations. It argues that IR largely has approached the visual field as if it was without sound; neglecting how audial landscapes frame and direct our interpretation of moving imagery. Sound and music contribute to making imagery intelligible to us, we ‘hear the pictures’ often without noticing. The audial can for instance articulate a visual absence, or blast visual signs, bring out certain emotional stages or subjects’ inner life. Audial frames steer us in distinct directions, they can mute the cries of the wounded in war, or amplify the sounds of joy of soldiers shooting in the air. To bring the audial and the visual analytically and empirically together, the article therefore proposes four key analytical themes: 1) the audial–visual frame, 2) point of view/point of audition, 3) modes of audio-visual synchronization and 4) aesthetics moods. These are applied to a study of ‘war music videos’ in Iraq and Syria made and circulated by Shi'a militias currently fighting there. Such war music videos, it is suggested, are not just artefacts of popular culture, but have become integral parts of how warfare is practiced today, and one that is shared by soldiers in the US and Europe. War music videos are performing war, just as they shape how war is known by spectators and participants alike.

As Iraq emerges from the shadow of war and occupation, it has sought to regain influence as a major actor in an ever-more volatile region. Though the 'new Iraq' attempts to project an independent foreign policy, renewed instability and violence inside the country has challenged the state's ability to develop a coherent and unified foreign policy stance.

Jane Kinninmont and Gareth Stansfield will present the findings of their new report which explores how foreign policy in Iraq today is developed and implemented, and analyses the extent to which Iraq's foreign policy aims are identifiable, independent and national in nature. They will also engage in a wider discussion with an expert panel on Iraqi foreign policy, particularly towards the conflict in Syria and how issues in neighbouring states are intertwined with domestic Iraqi politics.

This report aims to shed light on the key actors, processes and narratives that are shaping Iraq's foreign policy behaviour and options, at a time when the country is seeking to emerge from international sanctions and resume a more normal role in international affairs.

• Iraq's foreign relations are increasingly intertwined with the country's own divisions, and the increasing polarization of key Middle Eastern countries over Syria threatens to escalate Iraq's internal crisis.
   
• Syria has become the most divisive foreign policy issue facing Iraq, with little consensus on how to respond to the conflict. To protect against the risk of spillover from Syria, Iraq's political groupings must develop at least a basic agreement on their strategic response to the conflict.
   
• Western governments should caution their allies in the Gulf that the exploitation of sectarian discourses will have toxic effects that could last for at least a generation.

More on Iraq 

 

Loss of territory to the Islamic State of Iraq and al-Sham (ISIS) and the mass executions of Shia have undoubtedly had an impact on the mobilization of fighters inside Iraq opposing the group. But after the capture of Mosul and Tikrit by ISIS, a message from the group’s spokesman, Abu Muhammad al-Adnani, highlighted the power of religion as a mobilizing force in armed conflict. In the audio message Adnani addressed Prime Minister Nouri al Maliki as ‘Rafidi’, a derogatory term for Shia meaning rejectionist. He pledged that ‘the settling of debts will not be in Samarra and Baghdad, rather in Karbala al-munajjasah [Karbala the defiled] and Najaf al-ashrak [Najaf the most polytheistic]’.

His use of the words ‘munajjasah’ and ‘ashrak’ was a sectarian play on words referring to the two cities viewed by the Shia as being the most important cities in Islam after Mecca and Medina. Karbala is also known as Karbala al-Muqaddasa (Karbala the Holy), and contains the mausoleum of the third Shia Imam, Hussein ibn Ali. Najaf is commonly referred to as Najaf al-Ashraf (Najaf the Most Honourable), and contains the mausoleum of the first Shia Imam and fourth ‘rightly guided’ caliph, Ali ibn Abi Talib.

Threats against Karbala and Najaf have prompted an immediate reaction from Shia both inside Iraq and beyond its borders. When a representative of Grand Ayatollah Ali Sistani, the most influential living Shia religious authority, called on all able-bodied Iraqis to ’confront and fight the terrorists’, Sistani was compelled to reiterate that the subject of his call were Iraqis, and not just Shia. Ayatollah Fadhil al-Milani, Sistani’s representative in London, also released a video message clarifying that there was no need for Shia outside of Iraq to confront ISIS.

Fighters are already mobilized in Syria on the basis that Shia shrines in Damascus such as the Sayyidah Zainab Mosque are under threat from extremist ‘Takfiri’ militant groups intent on destroying these holy sites. The narrative of protecting Zainab’s shrine is a potent one: militias in the country bear names such as the Brigade of Zainab’s Protector and the Abu al-Fadhl Abbas Brigades. In 2013, Hezbollah Secretary General Hassan Nasrallah warned that the destruction of Zainab’s shrine would ‘carry with it grave consequences’, and that ‘countries supporting these groups [would] be held responsible for this crime if it takes place.’ Iran’s President Hassan Rouhani has also stated unequivocally on live television that ‘regarding the holy Shia shines in Karbala, Najaf, Khadhimiya and Samarra, we announce to the killers and terrorists that the big Iranian nation will not hesitate to protect holy shrines’.

Understanding sacred geography in conflict

The explicit threat against the sacred geography of Najaf and Karbala has the potential to escalate the crisis in Iraq from a domestic to transnational conflict, drawing in fighters from around the world. For this reason, there should be a greater attempt to understand how sacred geography can transform the stakes of armed conflict.

In 2001, UN General Assembly Resolution 55/254 called upon states to ‘exert their utmost efforts to ensure that religious sites are fully respected and protected’ and ‘adopt adequate measures aimed at preventing […] acts or threats of violence’. Just what these ‘adequate measures’ should be remains unclear. Armed forces across the world often need to operate in religious sites but at the risk of undermining long-term relations with the local population; and those making the calculations are often unaware of the repercussions.

This is not to assert that sacred geography is the only factor to look at when assessing militant mobilization in Iraq and elsewhere. Nevertheless, incorporating a less secular lens for analysing international security would be useful and working through the practical implications of the UN resolution – and setting firmer guidelines − should therefore become a priority.

To comment on this article, please contact Chatham House Feedback

This article sets out to bring sound and music to the field of visual studies in International Relations. It argues that IR largely has approached the visual field as if it was without sound; neglecting how audial landscapes frame and direct our interpretation of moving imagery. Sound and music contribute to making imagery intelligible to us, we ‘hear the pictures’ often without noticing. The audial can for instance articulate a visual absence, or blast visual signs, bring out certain emotional stages or subjects’ inner life. Audial frames steer us in distinct directions, they can mute the cries of the wounded in war, or amplify the sounds of joy of soldiers shooting in the air. To bring the audial and the visual analytically and empirically together, the article therefore proposes four key analytical themes: 1) the audial–visual frame, 2) point of view/point of audition, 3) modes of audio-visual synchronization and 4) aesthetics moods. These are applied to a study of ‘war music videos’ in Iraq and Syria made and circulated by Shi'a militias currently fighting there. Such war music videos, it is suggested, are not just artefacts of popular culture, but have become integral parts of how warfare is practiced today, and one that is shared by soldiers in the US and Europe. War music videos are performing war, just as they shape how war is known by spectators and participants alike.

The assassination of General Qassem Soleimani has created much speculation about the possible impact on oil markets and – although any impact will very much depend upon what happens next in terms of political and military responses – theoretically the potential exists for Iran to seriously destabilize oil markets, raising oil prices.

Arguably, it would be in Iran’s interest to do so. It would certainly hurt Trump’s possibility of a second term if higher prices were to last for some time as the 2020 presidential election gets underway. And it would also help shore up Iran’s failing economy. 

The assassination did initially cause oil prices to rise by a few dollars before quickly falling back, and the missile attacks by Iran produced a similar response. However, direct action by Iran to raise prices – for example by trying to close the Strait of Hormuz – is unlikely.

Around one-fifth of the world's oil supplies passes through the Strait of Hormuz, a narrow choke point between Iran and the Arabian Peninsula. Closing it would invite serious military action by the Americans and many of its allies who, so far, have been rather lukewarm over Trump’s actions. It would also possibly limit Iran’s own oil exports.

Similarly, overt attacks on American allies in the region such as Saudi Arabia and the UAE would probably invite too heavy a reaction, although this is uncertain given the lack of response after the alleged Iranian attacks on Abqaiq and Khurais in mid-September.

Indirect action by Iran to affect oil supplies is much more likely as they have many options by using their proxies to affect others’ oil production. This is especially true for Iraq, which is now an important source of global oil supply as Iraqi exports in 2019 averaged 3.53 million barrels per day (Mb/d), a significant amount.

Iraq’s future production has already been damaged as international oil companies are withdrawing staff for safety reasons, anticipating potential attacks by both Iraqi and Iranian sources. It is now very unlikely that the crucial ‘common seawater supply project’ being run by Exxon – essential for expanding production capacity – will go ahead in the near future.

However, one important consequence of the assassination that has attracted little attention is that it has almost fully restored the role of geopolitics into the determination of oil prices. Up to 2014, geopolitics played a key role in determining oil prices in the paper markets where perceptions and expectations ruled.

Prices determined in these markets – NYMEX in New York, ICE in London and other lesser futures markets throughout the world – then influence wet barrel markets where real barrels of oil are traded. 

In 2014, the world was so oversupplied with real oil barrels that the oil price collapsed – the price of Brent crude fell from $110.72 on 23 May to $46.44 eight months later. Thereafter, little if any attention was given to geopolitical events, and geopolitics became marginalized in the determination of crude oil prices.

This began to change in 2019. The market remained physically over-supplied but events in the Gulf began to attract attention. In June, there were a series of attacks on oil tankers close to the Gulf, followed by attacks on Saudi Arabia’s Abqaiq processing facility and the Khurais oil field in September.

The Americans claimed these attacks were launched by Iran, but no convincing evidence for the claim was provided. Both attacks produced an initial price response but it was surprisingly limited and short-lived. However, it did suggest that geopolitics might be creeping back into influencing oil prices.

This became ever more noticeable in the third and fourth quarters as rumours regarding the trade talks between China and US clearly began to affect price – talks going well meant higher oil demand, and prices rose; talks going badly meant lower oil demand, and prices fell.

Meanwhile, the oil market showed signs of tightening towards the end of 2019. Although there was much cheating on the OPEC+ agreement that was trying to restrain production and protect prices, the OPEC meeting last December saw both Iraq and Nigeria agreeing to restrain production. 

US stock levels also began to fall in December and the futures markets began to price in a tightening market towards the end of 2020. Significantly, the tighter the market appears, the greater attention is paid to the level of spare producing capacity.

Just before the attack on Abqaiq, the International Energy Agency (IEA) estimated there was 3.5 Mb/d spare capacity in OPEC which, historically, is quite comfortable. However, 2.5 of this was estimated to be in Saudi Arabia, so how much of this spare capacity still existed after the Abqaiq attack?

The Saudis claimed the Abqaiq capacity was quickly restored but technical experts greeted this with considerable skepticism, not least because the Abqaiq equipment was highly specialized. If spare capacity is tight, this makes the oil price vulnerable to geopolitical scares and rumours, real or imagined. 

Although the assassination of General Soleimani has exacerbated the sensitivity of oil markets to geopolitical events, this becomes irrelevant if a serious shooting war starts in the region. Saudi Arabia, the UAE and Iraq’s oil infrastructure remains highly vulnerable to attack either directly by Iran or one of its many proxies, suggesting oil prices will become increasingly volatile but, at the same time, benefit from a rising geopolitical premium.

Historically, Iraq lay claim to one of the most abundant water supplies in the Middle East. But the flow of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers has reduced by up to 40% since the 1970s, due in part to the actions of neighbouring countries, in particular Turkey, upstream.

Rising temperatures and reduced rainfall due to climate change are also negatively impacting Iraq’s water reserves. Evaporation from dams and reservoirs is estimated to lose the country up to 8 billion cubic metres of water every year.

A threat to peace and stability

Shortages have dried up previously fertile land, increasing poverty in agricultural areas. Shortages have also served to fuel conflict: communities faced with successive droughts and government inertia proved to be easy targets for ISIS recruiters, who lured farmers into joining them by offering money and food to feed their families. Economic hardship for those whose livelihoods relied upon river water has also driven rural to urban migration, putting significant strain on already over-populated towns and cities, exacerbating housing, job and electricity shortages, and widening the gap between haves and have-nots.

But scarcity isn’t the most crucial element of Iraq’s water crisis – contamination is. Decades of local government mismanagement, corrupt practices and a lack of regulation of dumping (it is estimated up to 70% of Iraq’s industrial waste is dumped directly into water) has left approximately three in every five citizens without a reliable source of potable water.

In 2018, 118,000 residents of Basra province were hospitalised with symptoms brought on by drinking contaminated water, which not only put a spotlight on the inadequacies of a crumbling healthcare system but sparked mass protests and a subsequent violent crackdown.

The water crisis is also undermining the stability of the country’s federal governance model, by occasionally sparking disputes between Baghdad and the Kurdistan Regional Government, as well as between governorates in the south.

The crisis is both a symptom and a cause of poor governance. Iraq is stuck in a cycle whereby government inaction causes shortages and contamination, which result in economic losses, reduced food supply, increased prices and widespread poor health. This in turn leads to increasing levels of poverty, higher demand on services and civil unrest, increasing the pressure on a weak, dysfunctional system of government.

What can be done?

The first priority should be modernising existing water-management infrastructure - a relic of a time when the problem was an excess rather than a shortage of water (the last time Iraq’s flood defences were required was 1968). Bureaucratic hurdles, widespread corruption and an endless cycle of other crises taking precedent prevent good initiatives from being implemented or scaled up.

Diversifying energy sources to improve provision is crucial. Baghdad has a sewage treatment plant that originally ran on its own electricity source, but this capacity was destroyed in 1991 and was never replaced. The city continues to suffer from dangerous levels of water pollution because the electricity supply from the grid is insufficient to power the plant. Solar energy has great potential in sun-drenched Iraq to bridge the gaping hole in energy provision, but successive governments have chosen to focus on fossil fuels rather than promoting investment to grow the renewables sector.

Heightened tension with upstream Turkey could turn water into another cause of regional conflict. But, if approached differently, collaboration between Iraq and its neighbour could foster regional harmony.

Turkey’s elevated geography and cooler climate mean its water reserves suffer 75% less evaporation than Iraq’s. Given that Turkey’s top energy priority is the diversification of its supply of imported hydrocarbons, a win-win deal could see Turkey exchange access to its water-management infrastructure for delivery of reduced cost energy supplies from Iraq.

German-French cooperation on coal and steel in the 1950s and the evolution of economic integration that followed might provide a model for how bilateral cooperation over one issue could result in cooperation with other regional players (in this case Iran and Syria) on a range of other issues. This kind of model would need to consider the future of energy, whereby oil and gas would be replaced by solar-power exports.

These solutions have been open to policymakers for years and yet they have taken little tangible action. While there are leaders and bureaucrats with the will to act, effective action is invariably blocked by a complex and opaque political system replete with vested interests in maintaining power and wealth via a weak state and limited services from central government.

Breaking the cycle

To break this cycle, Iraq needs a group of professional and able actors outside of government to work with willing elements of the state bureaucracy as a taskforce to pressure for action and accountability. Publishing the recommendations from a hitherto withheld report produced in the aftermath of Basra’s 2018 heath crisis would be a great start.

In time, this taskforce could champion the prioritisation of water on the national agenda, the implementation of infrastructure upgrades, and hold more productive conversations with neighbour states.

With such a high degree of state fragmentation and dysfunction in Iraq, looking to the central government to provide leadership will not yield results. Engagement with a coalition of non-state actors can begin to address the water crisis and also open a dialogue around new models of governance for other critical issues. This might even be a starting point for rewriting the tattered social contract in Iraq.

This piece is based on insights and discussion at a roundtable event, Conflict and the Water Crisis in Iraq, held at Chatham House on March 9 as part of the Iraq Initiative.