Children of Jihad: A Young American's Travels Among the Youth of the Middle East (27 page)

The trauma, pain, and stories of brutality of the Anfal campaigns are still deeply embedded in the minds of Iraqi Kurds. For older generations, Anfal was the darkest of a prolonged period of misery, brutality, and fear under Saddam. For the younger generations, it represents what they have been trying to get away from since their childhood. In fact, each time I met a young Kurd in Iraq, the first two things he or she would tell me about were the Anfal Campaign and how Kurdistan was different from the rest of Iraq. These two issues form much of the Iraqi Kurdish youth identity. And when they spoke of Anfal, I noticed a lot of similarities with the youth of Iran. Both had experienced brutal violence and trauma at the earliest stages of their lives and both want change, but not at the expense of violence and instability. I suspect this aversion to danger and chaos is one of the main reasons why the Kurds have so warmly embraced the American presence in Iraq. While battalions of soldiers landed in Iraqi Kurdistan, the fighting has taken place in the Sunni and Shi’a regions of Iraq. In fact, the Kurds take tremendous pride in the fact that Americans parachuted into the north because it was a safe entry point for them into Iraq. The few military campaigns that did take place in the north, most notably the eradication of Ansar al-Islam from the northeast, were welcomed because they actually made the region more stable.

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nsar al-Islam,
the Supporters of Islam, is a Sunni terrorist group with a strict Sunni Islamist interpretation of Islam. It was established in December 2001 as the union between two extremist Kurdish groups: the Islamic Movement in Kurdistan and the Soldiers of Islam. Led by Mullah Krekar, Ansar al-Islam based itself in the northeastern part of Iraq and fortified villages along the border with Iran. Within weeks of coming to power in the region, the group began cleansing the northeast of all cultural relics, shrines, and artifacts and all residents were forced to convert to Islam, with harsh punishments for those who refused. The group’s methods were brutal; they engaged in torture, mutilation, and decapitation.

The membership of Ansar al-Islam included numerous fighters who had fought against the Soviets during the 1980s in Afghanistan. With alleged links to Al-Qaeda, Ansar al-Islam has received funding from Osama bin Laden and also created a safe haven for notorious terrorist leaders infiltrating into Iraq, most notably the late Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. The group also allegedly had ties to Saddam, and for American war planners, Ansar al-Islam was the link between the Iraqi dictator and Al-Qaeda.

In 2003, following the American intervention in Iraq, the American government helped Kurdish forces root out Ansar al-Islam. Though the operation was successful, most of the Ansar al-Islam fighters escaped into Iran and eventually found their way back into Iraq, where they have since joined the Sunni insurgency. While the insurgency has taken place largely outside of the Iraqi Kurdistan Region, the few attacks that have managed to penetrate the heavily guarded territories of northern Iraq were believed to have been carried out by remnants of Ansar al-Islam. When I visited the former Ansar al-Islam towns of Tawela and Biyari, I expected to encounter fundamentalist populations. I had been to Afghanistan the previous February and found that even after the Taliban had left, their influence remained: The people were reserved, and many women still wore the blue burkha. But neither Tawela nor Biyara was like this.

Tawela was the more northeastern city of the two, tucked into the base and hills of a natural border between Iraq and Iran. The surrounding hills were cluttered with shacks along the cliff, and every single house, regardless of its size or location on the cliffs, had a satellite dish. The central market was situated around a mosque adorned with a turquoise dome and four tall, thin minarets. After Zarqawi came to Iraq, this mosque was his first place of worship.

Despite its link to the infamous leader of Al-Qaeda in Iraq, Tawela wasn’t a fanatically religious city. I saw a group of boys listening to Western music on a boom box. There were girls walking around only marginally covered. Everybody whom I met in this former extremist outpost was peaceful and hospitable.

For the Iraqi Kurds, Ansar al-Islam was the last nuisance in a string of violence that had plagued their region. They have now developed a community that is relatively safe, democratic, and egalitarian. Politically speaking, there are few, if any, places like this in the Middle East.

Even so, social and recreational progress is moving at a far slower pace. Iraqi Kurdistan doesn’t have the same wild and crazy parties found in Iran and Lebanon; it doesn’t even have the submissive but quietly insubordinate Sunni youth population found in Syria. Having been to Halabjah, having heard the stories of the civil war, and having visited Biyara and Tawela, I understood some of the reason for this docility. The Iraqi Kurdish youth have had a horrifically violent and turbulent upbringing. Iran had the Iran-Iraq War, Lebanon had the civil war, and Syria had Hama, but Iraq was somehow different. Saddam Hussein’s totalitarian grip on society, which for the Kurds lasted until 1991, was of a different breed. They grew up socialized into his cult of personality and brutality. As a result, the first decade of their lives was emotionless, uniform, and void of free thinking. In the words of one Kurdish student from Arbil, “Before the uprising, the Kurdish people generally were exposed to the Ba’athists; they could penetrate the brain of everybody. After the uprisings, the phenomenon of the Ba’athists vanished. This has completely changed the way of thinking for the Kurdish people. Our new ideology embraces, rather than hides, the concept of Kurdistan.”

As satellite television, mobile phones, and the Internet are taking over, Kurdish youth are beginning to question long-standing cultural norms, particularly when it comes to the treatment of women. This is a new process: It was only in 2002 that honor laws were outlawed in the Iraqi Kurdistan Region. Honor law is a common understanding in the Middle East that if a female does something to dishonor her family—adultery and premarital sex are common crimes—any male in the family has the right to kill her without legal consequences.

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s I’d seen and heard
at the university, young Kurds are becoming active in creating a civil society. They are eager to start civic and civil organizations, some with greater backing than others. I encountered some youth organizations with offices, nice furniture, and computers; others were little more than a couple of guys sitting in a dark shack. The level of civic activism in the Iraqi Kurdistan Region is inspiring. We all could learn a thing or two from their dedication.

The most impressive group was the Kurdistan Student Union. I expected the students to be wearing shorts and shirts. But when I walked into the Kurdistan Student Union, I was embarrassed. I was wearing track pants, a T-shirt, and Birkenstocks and everybody else was dressed as if they were going to the office. Many of the boys wore jackets and ties, and all wore collared shirts and dress pants; the girls wore long dresses or skirts with nice blouses.

The Kurdistan Student Union was established in 1953. The union is headquartered in Arbil but has eighteen branches in the region. There are even branches in Mosul and Baghdad. There are no socioeconomic requirements to join; the group boasts an official membership of 158,000, but youth from around the Iraqi Kurdistan Region often involve themselves in Kurdistan Union activities. The mission of the Kurdistan Student Union is to serve as a youth lobby to the Kurdistan Regional government. On a more basic level, the student union is designed to bring young people together so that the generation may speak with a strong, united voice. The union runs or sponsors athletic clubs, newspapers, magazines, discussion groups, political groups, Internet sites, and even television programs. It is arguably the most progressive and influential youth lobby in the entire Middle East.

The Kurdish students are proud of the place in society they have earned. The president of the union told me that “in our history we have a lot of student victims who sacrifice themselves for the sake of their country. As you see there are many politicians, famous Kurdish politicians and leaders of the Kurds, that were members of this union, including Jalal Talalbani, the president of Iraq, and Mr. Barzani, the president of Iraqi Kurdistan Region.” He reminded me of my friend Ruzwana, who had served as president of the Oxford Union and would always note that seven British prime ministers had begun their illustrious careers in this office as well. The students of the youth union were duly proud of the group’s history and present-day influence on Kurdish affairs.

During that first meeting, I sat with about twenty members of the union in a gigantic room. I still felt uncomfortable about my attire, but I hoped they wouldn’t notice or acknowledge the difference. As I was pondering this question, a group of youth walked in with a television camera and said that they were going to film the meeting for the student television network.

Where it exists in the Middle East, youth media is very influential. Young people don’t trust politicians and they don’t trust the older generation. They do, however, trust one another. I was told by Kurdish students in Iraq that they didn’t watch Al-Jazeera, Al-Manar, or CNN; they instead relied on their own student media.

As I stared at the camera, one of the students sitting next to me made a comment, “I see you dressed smart for us.” He was hunched over and his thick mustache made him look much older than his age. He wore a yellow-striped shirt and pants. Everyone gave an uncomfortable chuckle. Was he insulting me or just being funny? I started to apologize, but I was quickly waved off by the student union president, who told me my underdressing wasn’t a big deal.

I began my questioning by asking whether as a youth organization they felt engaged by the government. One of the students explained to me that they have an excellent relationship with the government and expressed a firm belief that as a student union they were shaping events in their country. He wore light pants and a white T-shirt with a couple pens in his pocket. He looked like the kid in the front of the classroom. He was referring to the drafting of Iraq’s first constitution, which was taking place at the time. The constitution was on everyone’s mind. With Saddam Hussein gone, what role would Kurds play in the new Republic of Iraq? Would the Kurds be part of a federalist system? Would they maintain their autonomy? What positions would they get in the new government? All of these questions were unanswered and the Kurds were on edge. The students were fully in tune with the issues.

“The government has seminars and workshops with us so that we can give our input,” the young man continued. “Even on the issue of the constitution, the government notices that the students are a sensitive part of the nation and that we need to be consulted.” Youth empowerment was very important to these students. In Iran and Syria, the youth hadn’t embraced their role as the majority of the population. In Lebanon, the youth had experienced their influence during the Cedar Revolution, but their role as a political influence was still nascent and not entirely united. But in the Iraqi Kurdistan Region, the youth understood their role, embraced it, and utilized it. Through their own effort, self-realization, and trial and error, young Kurds understood how to be influential. They united, expanded, and honed their message. They learned the politics, the needs, and the methods for making their voice heard. It was an example to be followed. I was intrigued and wanted to know more.

I asked the group what they do if they want to influence their government. This time, the student union president answered. His name was Bahar. He wore thick glasses, a blue dress shirt with short sleeves, and a striped pink tie. He described several ways that they influence the government, noting media, the Internet, and formal letters as their primary mode of advocacy. The letters particularly got my attention and I asked them if the government ever responds. I was surprised to hear that the government actually does respond to these letters. I heard stories of ministers coming to their seminars and engaging in roundtables with the youth. The students admitted that sometimes the conversations are useless in terms of substance, but do present them with an opportunity to remind the ministers that if they neglect the youth there will be consequences. He told me the story of a letter they wrote about a need to change the school curriculum. After months of waiting for a response, the student union organized a demonstration to show their demands to all of Iraqi Kurdistan. In the end, the curriculum was changed.

More than anything else, the students want to be a presence. They want their faces on TV, they want their rallies in the streets, and they want their opinions published. These students are very strategic; they pick and choose their battles. With all of the larger questions that the government is facing, the students are aware that issues like school curriculum cannot be responsible for bogging down a still-forming government. Aware of the potential for easy but meaningful victories, the young people push for reforms on apparently marginal issues. When they win, it is a display of their strength. It is an incredibly effective tactic.

The government wisely uses the student union as a way to keep this majority demographic engaged. In Iran, Syria, and Lebanon, the disconnect between youth and their governments leads to rumors and discontent that get exacerbated by word-of-mouth networks. In Iraqi Kurdistan Region, the student unions and the government have a mutually beneficial relationship. The students know what is going on and can properly channel their demands, and the government moderates a potentially disruptive portion of the population.

I asked them what they want for the future. I looked around the room, waiting to see who would answer. I noticed that the girls never spoke; they didn’t even look like they wanted to speak. Not surprisingly, another one of the male students spoke up.