From Baghdad to Basra, the Faces of Iraq's 'October Revolution'

Sahar, a 22-year-old Iraqi engineering student, with the liquids protesters use to soothe eyes inflamed by tear gas | AFP
Sahar, a 22-year-old Iraqi engineering student, with the liquids protesters use to soothe eyes inflamed by tear gas | AFP
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From Baghdad to Basra, the Faces of Iraq's 'October Revolution'

Sahar, a 22-year-old Iraqi engineering student, with the liquids protesters use to soothe eyes inflamed by tear gas | AFP
Sahar, a 22-year-old Iraqi engineering student, with the liquids protesters use to soothe eyes inflamed by tear gas | AFP

They hail from Basra's poorest slums and Baghdad's best universities and count among their ranks artists, tribal dignitaries, and desperate young men. Iraq's "October Revolution" reflects a diverse society.

But the people hitting Iraq's streets since October 1 have one thing in common: they are frustrated and sad but immeasurably determined to see their oil-rich homeland shed government graft and sectarian politics.

In a flowing black veil, with the Iraqi flag draped over her shoulders, Um Qassem emanates steely courage as chaos rages around the 53-year-old woman: military-grade tear gas canisters and smoke bombs tear by, leaving trails of grey, orange and purple smoke in the air.

Fired by security forces near Baghdad's main protest camp of Tahrir Square, such canisters have proved lethal, cracking protesters' skulls, necks, and rib cages.

"I've got a revolutionary soul," says the 53-year-old after spending almost two consecutive months on Tahrir, in the eye of the storm.

She says she has joined every demonstration in Iraq since ex-dictator Saddam Hussein was toppled in the US-led invasion of 2003, his regime replaced by a ruling system now slammed by protesters as inefficient and corrupt.

"The politicians have villas and we've got nothing at all," says Um Qassem, who can neither read nor write.

- 'Armoured Division' -

To fight back, protesters have formed "special units," or teams of men in bicycle helmets and thick gloves who pour water onto the incoming canisters or kick them back at police.

One 21-year-old man has scraped together what he can for the dangerous job: a blue construction helmet, a first aid kit strapped to his forearm and a grubby white welding glove to toss the grenades back.

Another wore an oxygen mask and carried a makeshift shield made of part of an aluminum barrel, with an Iraqi flag emblazoned on it.

A third man looked ready for war, sporting face-paint like DC Comics character the Joker, a flak jacket and a metal grate spray-painted with the words: "Tahrir Armoured Division."

They are beloved by the protesters for putting their lives on the line to keep canisters away from the crowds trying to get on with their revolution.

- Women on the front -

But in case a projectile makes it past that first line of defense and wounds an activist, the volunteer medics come in.

Dotted around Tahrir Square are field clinics where young medical students or protesters with rudimentary first aid knowledge treat those suffocating from tear gas, hit by a rubber bullet or wounded by live fire.

Fatma, 23, wears diving goggles and a medical mask to protect herself from clouds of tear gas as she squirts bottles of serum on protesters affected by the smoke.

"It's the first time I'm protesting," says Sahar, 22, an engineering student, only her eyes visible behind a mustard scarf wrapped around her face.

"I'm not afraid," says the young Baghdad native, packing some medical equipment and bravely trekking to the frontline, where teenagers are facing off against security forces.

- Martyrs, memorialized -

Red eyes, bloody wounds and streaks of soot from burning car tires: actor Muntazar Ali recreates them all for an emotional street theatre production in his protest-hit hometown of Basra.

He played a demonstrator shot dead in a salvo of bullets and tear gas just a few hundred meters from where real violence was playing out.

The painfully realistic play brought the mostly-male audience to shoulder-shaking sobs, many of them having lost a friend or relative in weeks of bloodshed.

More than 450 people have died and nearly 20,000 have been wounded, a mounting death toll that pushed Ali Hussani, a 34-year-old tribal member, to hit the streets.

"I'm here so the police officers and soldiers who killed protesters will be judged," he says, a traditional checkered scarf carefully wrapped around his head.

- Only the beginning -

In Tahrir, there are clans and clerics, like 41-year-old Nasser al-Waili. There are Instagram stars and university professors including Adel Naji, 56.

But the protests' engine is the students less than half their age: schoolchildren defying their parents to skip class or activists bringing food to the square despite threats of kidnapping.

They are Zein Rafid and Hassan al-Tamimi, Banin Diaa and 24-year-old Taha Mushtaq.

"We want change," says Mushtaq frankly, his large eyes framed by imposing eyeglasses.

They are proud of turning protest spots into melting pots, where they can speak freely and build the society they have always dreamed of in Iraq.

"We want to make everything more beautiful," says one 20-year-old building painter, retouching chipped sidewalk paint near Tahrir.

The participation of youth, 60 percent of Iraq's 40 million people, has moved their elders.

"Those of us with white hair should also be here to support the youth," said Hassan Abu Alaa, 65, fondly known as the "sheikh of the protesters."

In Basra, 22-year-old Minatallah Mohammad paints a mural of deep blue seas and star-studded skies as part of anti-government protests -- a hopeful horizon for the many thousands of young people putting their aspirations into this "October Revolution."

Asked what he wanted out of the uprising, a demonstrator wearing a "Guy Fawkes" mask, a symbol used by anti-establishment protesters everywhere, barely paused to think.

"A future."



Lebanese Parties Warn Against Hezbollah Keeping Light Weapons

Lebanese Shiite mourners gathered on Monday in Beirut’s southern suburbs to mark Ashura in a ceremony organized by Hezbollah (AFP)
Lebanese Shiite mourners gathered on Monday in Beirut’s southern suburbs to mark Ashura in a ceremony organized by Hezbollah (AFP)
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Lebanese Parties Warn Against Hezbollah Keeping Light Weapons

Lebanese Shiite mourners gathered on Monday in Beirut’s southern suburbs to mark Ashura in a ceremony organized by Hezbollah (AFP)
Lebanese Shiite mourners gathered on Monday in Beirut’s southern suburbs to mark Ashura in a ceremony organized by Hezbollah (AFP)

A recent proposal circulating in Lebanon that would allow Hezbollah to retain its light weapons while surrendering heavy and medium arms has triggered widespread political backlash, with critics warning it poses a grave threat to state sovereignty and public safety.

The suggestion, floated amid long-running debate over the group’s arsenal, argues that other political parties and armed groups also possess light weapons for various reasons. But key political factions have rejected the idea outright, citing Lebanon’s bloody past and the potential for renewed violence.

Opponents of the proposal have pointed to the events of May 7, 2008, when Hezbollah fighters overran parts of Beirut and Mount Lebanon in a show of military force, underscoring the dangers of allowing any non-state group to keep arms.

“Classifying weapons as heavy, medium or light is useless,” said Kataeb Party leader Sami Gemayel in a post on X. “If heavy arms threaten Lebanon’s regional security, light weapons are even more dangerous to the foundations of the state.”

Gemayel reiterated that only the Lebanese army and legitimate security forces should bear arms, calling for the country to be entirely free of weapons held by non-state actors.

MP Ghada Ayoub, of the Lebanese Forces-led "Strong Republic" bloc, echoed that view, insisting the state must assert full sovereignty over all Lebanese territory and outlaw any form of armed presence outside the official security apparatus.

“There is only one armed group operating outside the state, and that is Hezbollah,” Ayoub told Asharq al-Awsat. “It must become a purely political party and clearly, unequivocally declare an end to its military activity.”

Ayoub also criticized recent remarks by Hezbollah Deputy Secretary-General Sheikh Naim Qassem, who vowed the group’s “resistance” would continue “without asking anyone’s permission.”

“The Lebanese state is responsible for enforcing a monopoly on the use of arms,” she said. “It must stop playing the role of a mediator or hiding behind the fear of war and internal strife. Time is not on Lebanon’s side.”

Ahmad Al-Kheir, a lawmaker with the “National Moderation” bloc, dismissed the proposal as “stillborn,” warning that light weapons have already been used to intimidate citizens and skew political dynamics.

“We saw yesterday how light arms were paraded through Beirut’s streets in a blatant attempt at provocation and coercion,” he said. “This is the real danger - using these weapons as leverage in political life, as we saw in the May 7 events and the occupation of downtown Beirut.”

“No one in Lebanon will accept this,” Al-Kheir added.

Additionally, critics warn that allowing any non-state entity to retain weapons threatens state authority and risks further destabilizing the country.

Al-Kheir urged Hezbollah and any other party in possession of light weapons to hand them over to the state, citing the recent example set by former Progressive Socialist Party (PSP) leader Walid Jumblatt.

“Jumblatt announced that his party had surrendered its weapons weeks ago. This is the model to follow,” he told Asharq al-Awsat.

MP Waddah Al-Sadek, of the Change Coalition, said he had no objection to a phased disarmament process that begins with heavy and medium weapons, followed by light arms. He dismissed fears of civil war, saying only one side is armed.

“Armed conflict requires two sides. The army will not engage in internal fighting,” he said. “This talk of civil war is just fear-mongering unless Hezbollah resorts again to something like the May 7 scenario to avoid disarming.”

Al-Sadek stressed that Lebanon’s response to the US proposal - reportedly outlining phased disarmament - will be critical. “Does anyone really have an alternative to engaging with this proposal?” he asked.

Deputy head of the Free Patriotic Movement, Naji Hayek, said all weapons must be handed over, rejecting the idea that civilians or political groups should be allowed to keep light arms for self-defense.

“This theory no longer holds,” Hayek told Asharq al-Awsat, adding that training camps used to militarize society should be shut down. “Light and medium weapons are not only with Hezbollah - they exist with other parties that have military structures, and these too must be dismantled.”

Political analyst Qassem Qassir, who is close to Hezbollah’s thinking, said there is no internal consensus, nor any agreement with Hezbollah, to give up its heavy and medium arms while retaining light weapons.

“The party insists the issue is still the Israeli occupation and ongoing aggression,” he said. “For Hezbollah, no discussion on disarmament is possible until those threats end.”

Qassir warned that if a political solution to the weapons issue is not reached, “we will inevitably face military risks and internal conflict.”

Jumblatt announced in late June that his party had handed over its remaining weapons, including light and medium arms that were gradually accumulated after the May 7 clashes in 2008 during a period of heightened tension with Hezbollah.

He said the weapons had been centrally stored and fully turned over to the Lebanese state.