This morning, as I settled in for a day of analysis, my Kurdish interpreter rushes in, virtually glowing with excitement: “Trump has touched down in Israel!” He was glued to a screen, tears brimming as he exclaimed, “I love Trump! He’s the harbinger of peace.” As Trump emerged from the plane alongside Netanyahu, my interpreter commented, “Look at Netanyahu—he seems almost like Trump’s younger sibling!” His sentiments were clear: world leaders alike are in awe of Trump’s influence, and he even claimed admiration from the Kurdish and Arab populace alike.
The backdrop to all this adoration? The U.S. toppled Saddam Hussein, paving the way for greater autonomy for the Kurds, and Trump’s administration played a critical role in dismantling ISIS—an organization that once loomed perilously close to Erbil, the Kurdish capital. The Iraqi populace, especially the Kurds, express gratitude for the fall of both Saddam and ISIS, but it’s Trump’s recent endeavors, such as engaging in dialogues for peace between Hamas and Israel, that have propelled him to a newfound level of acclaim across the region.
While mainstream media may disregard these narratives, it is undeniable that Trump’s policy achievements resonate powerfully with various global audiences.
Later that day, pausing in a local coffee shop, I engaged with the owner after he spotted my Captain America T-shirt. “America good!” one patron declared, flashing a thumbs-up. Language barriers may have limited our conversation, yet the key takeaway was unambiguous—“Trump very good,” echoed the coffee shop owner.
The workers at the coffee stand were Syrians, part of a diaspora which sought refuge in Iraqi Kurdistan for its comparative richness and safety. Everyone here understands that life in Iraqi Kurdistan is markedly better, largely due to its unique status as the only self-governing Kurdish region.
Iraqi Kurdistan boasts its own governance and military; upon arriving, visitors receive a Kurdish visa. This self-rule has catalyzed significant economic advancement, and the Kurds have established coexistence with Yazidis and Christians, often fighting valiantly against ISIS together.
Conversely, in Syria, the Kurdish enclave Rojava, officially the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria (AANES), presents a stark contrast—safe for its ethnic and religious minorities but economically deprived and frequently beset by attacks from al-Qaida-linked forces based in Damascus. Consequently, many minorities are seeking sanctuary in Iraqi Kurdistan.
As the coffee shop declined to accept any payment, I wandered to a tailor for repairs on a few pairs of trousers. Zamar, the tailor, also hailing from Syria, spoke English quite fluently. “I think Trump is fair,” he articulated. “Unlike leaders from other nations, his decisions seem balanced. Sometimes he rambles on, saying nonsense, but his decisions are sound. Peace? That’s vital, and I believe we’re on the cusp of achieving it.”
Interestingly, Zamar had fled from conflict and was eligible for asylum himself, yet he supported Trump’s immigration stance. “He genuinely cares about his country. He offers a thousand dollars for Syrians to voluntarily return. If anyone is caught, it’s free deportation. Now that’s a policy!”
He continued, observing how Trump demanded that Europe adopt similar measures to combat immigration. “Those entering bring hatred for Christians; our people have suffered for centuries as a result.”
While it’s paramount to highlight that Christians also face extremist violence—being casualties of their brutality—it’s vital to recognize that the brunt of ISIS attacks predominantly fell upon Muslims, with Kurds being particularly targeted.
Zamar again refused any payment for my trousers, and I strolled across the street to another cafe, where I met brothers Habib and Ibrahim. Their flight from the Syrian civil war and the rise of ISIS led them to seek refuge in Iraqi Kurdistan, escaping the grim realities brought about by al-Julani’s regime, which has committed recent atrocities against ethnic minorities.
As Habib shared his concerns, “There’s no safety in Syria for anyone who isn’t a Sunni Muslim. Ethnic groups live in fear for their lives,” he said, highlighting the only minority capable of defending their domain—Kurds—thanks to American support.
Even under limited autonomy compared to Iraqi Kurdistan, residents in the Kurdish areas of Syria acknowledge that U.S. backing is critical to their survival.
Contrary to liberal narratives painting Iraqis and Syrians as adversarial to the U.S., many, particularly Kurds, express a longing for continued American presence. Habib underscored this sentiment, wishing for U.S. protection over the Kurdish region of northern Syria. The Kurdish-led Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), who defend Rojava from al-Julani’s factions, are currently celebrating a decade of U.S. support and are not requesting withdrawal; rather, they are advocating for sustained involvement.
As ISIS re-emerges, President Nechirvan Barzani conveyed to Secretary of State Marco Rubio the region’s dependence on coalition forces, stating, “It’s not the appropriate moment for American troops to withdraw from Iraq.”
Joining me at the café was a knowledgeable Syrian Kurdish friend, who was buoyed by Trump’s visit to Israel, hopeful it might herald an end to hostilities. However, he expressed skepticism regarding the longevity of peace, pointing out that core grievances between Hamas and Israel remain unaddressed, and without American peacekeeping forces, potential escalations loomed large.
To which another Kurdish friend remarked, “Yet, with Trump at the helm, I feel considerably safer than I ever did with Biden.”
