Upon my arrival in Erbil, the capital of Iraqi Kurdistan, I was uncertain about what to expect. Would the locals be willing to engage with a journalist, let alone allow themselves to be photographed? Much to my surprise, as I meandered through the city streets, I found the inhabitants to be remarkably welcoming.
From a cozy second-floor café, I surveyed the vibrant city that the Kurds have nurtured through years of turmoil. The contrast was striking: while violent extremist groups such as al-Qaeda, the Taliban, and ISIS left trails of devastation in their wake, Kurdistan has managed to cultivate a landscape marked by religious freedom and ethnic tolerance, leading to a rare sense of safety and prosperity.
The people of Iraqi Kurdistan are acutely aware of the disparities between their lives and those of their Kurdish brethren in Syria. The Kurdistan Region of Iraq boasts its own democratically elected government (the Kurdistan Regional Government, or KRG), a parliament, a presidency, and an autonomous military force known as the Peshmerga. More impressively, they issue their own visas for travelers arriving at the Erbil and Sulaymaniyah airports. This autonomy is enshrined in Iraq’s 2005 constitution, granting the region legal protections and a level of stability that is hard to come by elsewhere in the Middle East.
Conversely, Syrian Kurds manage a quasi-autonomous region called the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria (AANES, or Rojava), but it lacks recognition under the Syrian constitution and from the international community. Their armed force, the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), operates unofficially, making the area vulnerable to aggression. Deciding to maintain control through extremist measures, factions linked to the HTS government under Al-Jolani, remnants of al-Qaeda and various Turkish-backed groups, continue to perpetrate violence, impose a harsh interpretation of Islam, and threaten religious and ethnic minorities. The outcome? A destabilized Syria where economic progress has largely ground to a halt.
“The term ‘Islamist’ as used for Al-Jolani and his cohort is detrimental to religion,” lamented Dlo, a 38-year-old Kurdish Muslim who heads the Free Burma Rangers (FBR) in Iraq and Kurdistan. He expressed concern that extremism tarnishes Islam’s reputation, leading Westerners to view all Muslims through a lens of suspicion, a situation that fundamentally misaligns with the essence of Islam’s teachings.
In contrast, the spirit of moderation in Kurdistan fosters peaceful coexistence among diverse faiths. Dlo emphasized, “We have Muslims and Christians as the two dominant religions cohabitating. The events following ISIS’s defeat have improved interfaith relations significantly; we now share many positive connections.”
This sense of openness is a hallmark of Kurdistan. Outside its borders, religious tolerance is scarce, especially in Iraq and Syria, where extremists frequently resort to violence to enforce conversion. “We cannot endorse these behaviors. They threaten lives, claiming, ‘You must convert to Islam, or face death.’ While I identify as Muslim, I reject the notion of coercion in faith,” Dlo insisted.
In his analysis, the division between religion and state has paved the way for Erbil’s impressive standard of living. This openness to Christians, Yazidis, and other minority communities, he contended, is the driving force behind the city’s swift development.
On my first day in Erbil, I resolved to embark on a solo 10-kilometer hike around the city. I was uncertain how my attempts at photographing or interviewing locals would be received, but I was heartened by the enthusiastic responses. Most people were thrilled to pose for the camera, inviting their friends to join in the fun.
In my quest for images depicting economic vibrancy, I aimed my camera at the new high-rises in construction, prompting workers to halt what they were doing to smile and give me a thumbs-up.
One shopkeeper even ushered me into his store for a quick photo-op alongside his merchandise. I couldn’t resist approaching some military personnel, wanting to capture their camaraderie; they insisted I join in the picture, which quickly transformed into a team pose when their officer joined the fun.
As I wandered, it felt impossible to walk a hundred meters without being offered tea and sweets. Even those who spoke little English lit up upon learning I was American (I made sure to wear my Captain America T-shirt). They exuded warmth, saying “Thank you,” and occasionally adding, “God bless you.” For those who could communicate more fluently, pride resonated in their words: “We have Christians, Muslims, Yazidis, Kurds, and Arabs living here in safety.”
Many residents recounted their journeys as refugees. Muhammad, who had spent 17 years in the UK, and another individual who was in Germany for 13 years, both chose to return to Kurdistan, driven by their faith in Erbil’s vision for a more liveable society anchored in freedom and peace.
A local named Mahmoud, enjoying a snack outside his shop, expressed a similar enthusiasm about the Kurdistan they have forged together. “People here are genuinely friendly and kind-hearted. The most significant aspect is our safety; it’s a secure place—wherever you go, you feel safe.”
Cognizant of their unique situation, Kurds were eager to engage in political discourse, particularly regarding their trust in the Kurdistan government compared to the Iraqi authorities in Baghdad. Mahmoud elaborated, “There are multiple reasons for our trust. The Kurdish government maintains a close connection with the local populace. It’s not merely a Kurdish affair; communities like Ankawa, a Christian area, highlight how intertwined our lives are. We share this land; we are Muslims, they are Christians, yet we have coexisted through the years. Our Islamic identity cohabits well with our Arab neighbors too.”
Mahmoud’s reference to Ankawa carries deeper significance. This Christian enclave in Erbil showcases a spectrum of peaceful coexistence that is becoming alarmingly rare throughout the region. With Christians facing persecution in much of Iraq, in Kurdistan, they can openly practice their faith, maintaining their churches and traditions without trepidation.
Mahmoud emphasized the rapid transformations occurring within the city. “Erbil is undergoing an unparalleled growth phase now; it’s vastly larger and more developed than ever.”
Kurdistan’s dedication to religious freedom transcends regional boundaries, as demonstrated by the Kurdish autonomous zones in Syria, which act as sanctuaries for Christians, Alawites, and others fleeing the mass atrocities committed by extremist entities like Al-Jolani’s HTS, which effectively govern much of Syria. During the combat against ISIS, Kurdish-controlled regions emerged as safe havens, offering shelter to Yazidis, Christians, and various other persecuted groups, shielding them during a time of grave danger.
The Syrian Democratic Forces, composed primarily of Kurds, also include Arabs, Assyrians, Syriacs, Armenians, Turkmen, and Chechens in their diverse coalition, sharply contrasting the sectarian violence often perpetuated by extremist factions.
The juxtaposition between the relatively peaceful Kurdistan and territories ruled by Islamic extremists couldn’t be starker. Where groups like ISIS, al-Qaeda, and the Taliban impose draconian theocracy leading to widespread devastation, Kurdish efforts to champion religious freedom and ethnic diversity have birthed safety and prosperity.
As I walked through the streets of Erbil, where conflict has been absent for nearly a decade, witnessing undeniable growth and development, one cannot help but recognize that this model truly works. Kurdish aspirations for a formally autonomous government mirror those in Syria, where other ethnic minorities, like the Alawites and Druze, also seek autonomy after experiencing violence.
Interestingly, the aspiration for autonomy extends beyond the Middle East. Ethnic armed groups in the ongoing conflict in Burma view Iraqi Kurdistan as a beacon for the autonomy they wish to obtain. This presents a valuable opportunity for the U.S. and the international community; without deploying troops or expending taxpayer resources, they could advocate for the establishment of autonomous regions for ethnic minorities in both Syria and Burma—potentially a humanitarian intervention that could curtail lengthy conflicts.
