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A journey to the other Iraq

The Iraqi Kurdistan region still shows the indelible marks and scars from decades of Saddam Hussein's bloody ethnic persecution; its contradictions are evident all around the built environment.

The Autonomous Region of Kurdistan has in recent years been in the news as the "Other Iraq". In 2011, National Geographic described it as an oasis of peace and development, and The New York Times placed it 34th out of 41 best travel destinations — beating Miami, which finished up in last place. In reality, the region is not so much a tourist attraction as it is a land prized by multinational and private investors. After Saddam Hussein's bloody ethnic persecution, a decade of armed conflict between Iraq and Iran, two wars to export democracy, and one civil war, Iraqi Kurdistan today is striding towards a new state of political and economic stability. Its long history of war and violence has left indelible marks and scars. At the same time, however, it has created a unique situation marked by openness and opportunity. The future is all there to be invented, there is plenty of scope for experimentation, and the direction to be followed can still be chosen.

Erbil, the regional government capital and one of the world's most ancient cities, inhabited without interruption for thousands of years, is an extraordinary example of that condition. One of the principal artifices of this growth is Nawzad Hadi, governor of Erbil since 2004. In a recent interview, with the clarity of a visionary he illustrated to me the steps required to fulfill what he calls a great dream: the building of a city worthy of being an international capital, "a new Dubai". That is no mean statement, considering that Kurdistan is not even an officially recognised state. "I am doing it for my people, who deserve it after years of oppression." The magnitude of Nawzad Hadi's challenge is quite incredible. It began with the asphalting of roads and the guarantee of standard access to water and electricity, continued with the completion and implementation of a master plan and a green belt around the city, and is now on its way to transforming Erbil into an economic and commercial hub. In an explosive mixture of individual profit and common good, the governor has embraced the city's historic and cultural profile as the symbol of this rebirth. He has started a restoration of the citadel, Erbil's ancient heart, by working with UNESCO to have it included in the list of World Heritage Sites. At the same time, with an eye to the international tendencies of the architecture star system, he appointed Daniel Libeskind to design a museum of Kurdish memory, an audio-visual project for the historical and narrative reconstruction of the Kurd genocide. Work on the museum is scheduled to commence this year.

Top: The camp for idps
(internally displaced persons)
at Ma’asker Salam, a few
kilometres from the city
of Sulaymaniyah. Where
Saddam’s army stables
once stood, now there is a
village housing 300 families,
complete with mosques,
small shops and elementary
schools. Above: In the idp camp at Ma’asker
Salam, the dwellings have
been built from adapted Iraqi
Army stables. Metal cans
filled with earth are used
as bricks in a dividing wall. — Top: The camp for idps (internally displaced persons) at Ma’asker Salam, a few kilometres from the city of Sulaymaniyah. Where Saddam’s army stables once stood, now there is a village housing 300 families, complete with mosques, small shops and elementary schools. Above: In the idp camp at Ma’asker Salam, the dwellings have been built from adapted Iraqi Army stables. Metal cans filled with earth are used as bricks in a dividing wall.

The Autonomous Region of Kurdistan chose Erbil as the emblematic image of its capacity for self-government, and in this case investment in its urban growth has been notably political. Through the concession of land-tax benefits and structural support, the regional government is encouraging the circulation of private capital. This has made a significant impact on the city's development and building prospects. In the past five years the world's biggest corporations have staked claims in the city, luxury hotels have multiplied, and new residential complexes have sprung up suggesting the possibility of exclusive lifestyles and their desirability. Dream City, Empire City, English Village, Royal City, Vital City and Italian Village are gated communities now occupying a large slice of Erbil's outer circular, not far from the construction site of the Marriot Hotel and from the 23-storey Hotel Divan tower.

Nawzad Hadi, the governor
of Erbil — Nawzad Hadi, the governor of Erbil

Erbil's economic prosperity is just one of the multiple sides of this transition to a mature state of democracy. Traces of years of conflict — and the fact that virtually all investment has been confined to the growth of this capital city — are on the other hand dramatically evident in the rest of the region. Indeed, contrasting the enthusiasm of this new prosperity are the mountain villages and refugee camps where resilience and the art of making ends meet are means of ensuring survival. Wlaxlw is a village of about 50 mud-and-stone houses, on the border between Iraq and Iran. Its geographical position made it a constant target of bombardment during the war between the two countries. To this day it is surrounded by the aftermath of that conflict in the shape of missiles, bullets and bombshells, ammunition boxes and helmets.

Improvisation and resilience are the other side of the coin to massive urban development and the dream of becoming the next Dubai

Parki Shar (City Park) at the
foot of Erbil Citadel, which
recently saw the start of
renovation work. UNESCO is
considering including the citadel
in the list of World Heritage Sites — Parki Shar (City Park) at the foot of Erbil Citadel, which recently saw the start of renovation work. UNESCO is considering including the citadel in the list of World Heritage Sites

Over the past 20 years the inhabitants of Wlaxlw have made a virtue of necessity, by utilising the debris and rubble as building material for their postwar reconstruction. Thus Katyusha rockets have become support beams for ceilings or pillars for pergolas, missile casings are converted into drainpipes, and helmets (those without bullet holes at forehead level) are used as flowerpots or to collect rainwater, while landmine warning signs serve as firewood props, and ammunition boxes sunk into the ground provide steps to the higher part of the village.

Exterior of a building in
the village of Raparin, a
former industrial complex
for weapons and munitions
production that is now
inhabited by 70 families — Exterior of a building in the village of Raparin, a former industrial complex for weapons and munitions production that is now inhabited by 70 families

Wlaxlw is a cross-section of an amazing world, a surreal combination of a post-apocalyptic landscape and an oil painting by an 18th-century orientalist. But it is not the only example of the contradictoriness of these coexistences. Stories of the kind are illustrated by the various army buildings once occupied by Saddam Hussein's troops stationed in Kurdistan. From the end of 1996, at the height of the civil war, these structures began to be converted into veritable villages, complete with mosques, small shops and elementary schools. Ma'asker Salam, Top Khane and Raparin are three such "villages", located a few kilometres from Sulaymaniyah, the second largest city in the Automous Region of Kurdistan. Ma'asker Salam is where Saddam's army stables were situated. Today, some 300 families have found accommodation there. Not far away is Top Khane, a group of 12 buildings formerly used as an arms depot and now occupied by another 300 families.

Empire Village stretches out
in front of the Empire Tower
in Erbil. The completion and
implementation of a master
plan was a fundamental
element for the city’s
transformation into an
economic and commercial hub — Empire Village stretches out in front of the Empire Tower in Erbil. The completion and implementation of a master plan was a fundamental element for the city’s transformation into an economic and commercial hub

Raparin, meanwhile, located closer to the city centre, was in Saddam's day a large industrial complex used to produce and repair weapons. Today it hosts a maze of self-built huts, inhabited by some 70 families. By a curious twist of fate, what were once the building-symbols of the Ba'athist regime's military oppression have been transformed into a safety anchor for hundreds of families, the place of refuge they call home, while waiting (with ever diminishing faith) for the politicians to keep their promises of compensation and assignment of public housing. During this long wait of more than 15 years, the old army buildings have changed their appearance as a result of spontaneous actions by inhabitants.

New housing in Erbil. In
the last 20 years, Kurds have
built numerous different
types of accommodation—
from villages to idp camps
and hotel towers — also
borrowing from Western style
constructions — New housing in Erbil. In the last 20 years, Kurds have built numerous different types of accommodation— from villages to idp camps and hotel towers — also borrowing from Western style constructions

Using improvised materials and traditional construction techniques, they have gradually turned this political aberration into something more like a familiar and hospitable landscape. Haji Mahmoud and Nadja, two residents of Ma'asker Salam, recount that local and international ngos helped refugees to settle into the abandoned military structures. At Ma'asker Salam, the stables were initially divided by makeshift walls into rooms to accommodate one or more families each. In the course of time and with a growing awareness that the situation would take years and not months to be resolved, the inhabitants of these permanently temporary villages began to expand. They partitioned the rooms assigned to them in order to meet the needs of their families and to create more comfortable living conditions.

A boy flies a kite near
a new row of stores in Erbil — A boy flies a kite near a new row of stores in Erbil

Nadja lives in a corner house and changes the colour of its interior three times a year. With her husband she has laid out a garden, its flowerbeds bordered with stones and broken bricks. There are also three trees, grown from the kernels of fruit and each planted to mark the birth of her three daughters. "All I'd like is a nice house," she says, "nothing more." With snow-capped mountains on the horizon, the landscape of Ma'asker Salam and Top Khane has a surreal look. The picturesque impression of mountain villages clashes with memories of a cruel and dramatic past which the inhabitants have not yet managed to cast off. The old stable buildings at Ma'asker Salam are today barely visible. Covered with satellite dishes, they are now a mass of irregular dwellings built from cement blocks, stone and rough earth bricks, and wrapped in coloured striped plastic sheets for winter insulation.

The new Carrefour
supermarket in Erbil. Thanks
to current urban development
policies, the capital of the
Iraqi Kurdistan region is
rapidly changing appearance
and attracting the world’s
largest corporations to set up
in the city — The new Carrefour supermarket in Erbil. Thanks to current urban development policies, the capital of the Iraqi Kurdistan region is rapidly changing appearance and attracting the world’s largest corporations to set up in the city

In a surprising combination of improvisation, recycling and vernacular architecture, remnants of plastic and metal mark out Haji Mahmoud's garden, where birds are kept off by scarecrows made of snipped plastic bags. In the courtyard next door, his son and daughter-in-law have built a pergola with the wooden poles of building sites, while their neighbour has used the door of a derelict car as the gate to a courtyard surrounded by a dry wall.

The exterior of the new
23-storey Divan Hotel in
Erbil. Over the past five
years, government policy has
had a significant impact on
the city’s urban development
and construction — The exterior of the new 23-storey Divan Hotel in Erbil. Over the past five years, government policy has had a significant impact on the city’s urban development and construction

Between the sushi bar on the 21st floor of a 5-star hotel in downtown Erbil and the Katyusha rockets used as construction material in Wlaxlw, observing the anthropised landscape can be an outstanding means of interpreting what is often, abstractly, defined as a postwar dimension. The iniquitous distribution of wealth derived from the postwar reconstruction efforts has left indisputable signs of the temporality of a twisting and frequently obstacle-strewn path. In Iraqi Kurdistan, improvisation and resilience are the other side of the coin to massive urban development and the dream of becoming the next Dubai. Torn between far-sightedness, forgetfulness and selective memory, territory is revealed as neither a neutral nor innocent platform, on which political debate and intervention are staged and the future takes shape.

In the IDP camp at Ma’asker
Salam, the front gates
of some houses were once the
doors of the Army’s stables — In the IDP camp at Ma’asker Salam, the front gates of some houses were once the doors of the Army’s stables

In the village of Wlaxlw, near the Iraq-Iran
border, remnants of the
conflict between the two
countries were recycled in
the postwar reconstruction — In the village of Wlaxlw, near the Iraq-Iran border, remnants of the conflict between the two countries were recycled in the postwar reconstruction

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A journey to the other Iraq

The Iraqi Kurdistan region still shows the indelible marks and scars from decades of Saddam Hussein's bloody ethnic persecution; its contradictions are evident all around the built environment.

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