ISIS Likely to Pick Battle-Hardened Iraqi as Next Leader, Say Officials, Analysts

A suveillance image shows a compound housing the leader of ISIS Abu Ibrahim al-Hashemi al-Quraishi, who had led ISIS since the death in 2019 of its founder Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, in northwest Syria prior to a raid executed by US forces February 2, 2022. Picture taken February 2, 2022. (Reuters)
A suveillance image shows a compound housing the leader of ISIS Abu Ibrahim al-Hashemi al-Quraishi, who had led ISIS since the death in 2019 of its founder Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, in northwest Syria prior to a raid executed by US forces February 2, 2022. Picture taken February 2, 2022. (Reuters)
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ISIS Likely to Pick Battle-Hardened Iraqi as Next Leader, Say Officials, Analysts

A suveillance image shows a compound housing the leader of ISIS Abu Ibrahim al-Hashemi al-Quraishi, who had led ISIS since the death in 2019 of its founder Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, in northwest Syria prior to a raid executed by US forces February 2, 2022. Picture taken February 2, 2022. (Reuters)
A suveillance image shows a compound housing the leader of ISIS Abu Ibrahim al-Hashemi al-Quraishi, who had led ISIS since the death in 2019 of its founder Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, in northwest Syria prior to a raid executed by US forces February 2, 2022. Picture taken February 2, 2022. (Reuters)

The next leader of ISIS is likely to be from a close circle of battle-hardened Iraqi extremists who emerged in the aftermath of the 2003 US invasion, two Iraqi security officials and three independent analysts said.

The group of potential successors to Abu Ibrahim al-Quraishi, who blew himself up during a US operation to capture him in Syria last week, includes one commander whom Washington and Baghdad declared killed last year, the Iraqi officials said.

The death of Quraishi, 45, was another crushing blow to ISIS two years after the violent group lost longtime leader Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi in a similar raid in 2019, Reuters reported.

Quraishi, an Iraqi, never publicly addressed his fighters or followers, avoided electronic communications, and oversaw a move to fighting in small devolved units in response to intense pressure from Iraqi and US-led forces.

But those following ISIS closely expect it to name a successor in coming weeks, as the group which imposed brutal rule over vast swathes of Iraq and Syria from 2014 to 2017 continues a stubborn and deadly insurgency.

Fadhil Abu Rgheef, an Iraqi expert who advises its security services, said there were at least four possible successors.

“These include ... Abu Khadija, whose last known role was Iraq leader for ISIS, Abu Muslim, its leader for Anbar province, and another called Abu Salih, of whom there’s very little information but who was close to Baghdadi and Quraishi,” he said.

“There’s also Abu Yassir al-Issawi, who is suspected to be still alive. He’s valuable to the group as he has long military experience.”

Issawi’s death in an air strike in January 2021 was reported at the time by both Iraqi forces as well as the US-led military coalition fighting ISIS in Iraq and Syria.

But an Iraqi security official confirmed there were strong suspicions Issawi is still alive. “If he’s not dead he’d be a candidate, he’s tried and tested in planning military attacks and has thousands of supporters,” the official said.

The official added that ISIS was likely carrying out a security sweep for potential leaks that led to the death of Quraishi before convening to choose or announce a successor.

Hassan Hassan, editor of New Lines magazine which has published research on Quraishi, said the new leader would be a veteran Iraqi extremist.

“If they choose one in the coming weeks they’ll have to choose someone from among the same circle ... the group that was part of the Anbari group which operated under (the name) ISIS since the early days,” he said.

ISIS emerged from the militants that waged an increasingly sectarian-driven insurgency against US troops and Iraqi forces after 2003.

ISIS in Iraq, also known as al Qaeda in Iraq, was an offshoot of the global al Qaeda organization of Osama Bin Laden and the precursor to ISIS, which took shape in the chaos of Syria’s civil war across the border.

Baghdadi and Quraishi, both members of al Qaeda in Iraq from the start, did time in US detention in the mid-2000s. In contrast, none of the four potential successors to Quraishi had been captured by US forces, one security official and one army colonel told Reuters.

Officials and analysts in various countries agree ISIS is under more pressure than it’s ever been and will never restore its self-styled caliphate. But they are divided on how significant a setback Quraishi’s death is for the group.

Some say the fight against ISIS will suck in the United States and its allies for years to come as it develops into a permanent insurgency with new leaders ready to take the reins.

“In Syria, ISIS units work as a devolved network of individual groups in order to avoid them being targeted. We don’t therefore believe that Quraishi’s death will have an enormous impact,” one of the Iraqi security officials said.

“It’s also become more difficult to follow them because they’ve long stopped using mobile phones for communication.”

Since their territorial defeat in Iraq in 2017 and Syria in 2019, ISIS leaders have found it increasingly easy to move between the two countries, helped by a gap in areas of control between different armed forces, some officials say.

Security and military officials said the 600 km (372 mile) long border with Syria made it very hard for Iraqi forces to prevent militants infiltrating via underground tunnels.

NEW LEADERSHIP STYLE
Lahur Talabany, former counter-terrorism chief for Iraq’s autonomous Kurdistan region, said some ISIS leaders can travel on a route across the full expanse of Iraq.

“When you see attacks increasing in a particular area I wouldn’t be surprised if somebody important has been through that region,” he told Reuters. “The caliphate was defeated but ISIS was never eradicated. I don’t believe we managed to finish the job.”

ISIS’ possession of land in Iraq and Syria set it apart from other like-minded groups such as al Qaeda and became central to its mission when it declared a caliphate in 2014, claiming sovereignty over all Muslim lands and peoples.

Fiercely anti-Western, the group also draws on Sunni-Shia tensions, saying Shias were infidels who deserve to be killed.

Abu Rgheef said the new leader could have stronger military credentials than Quraishi, who Iraqi officials say was seen by followers as more of an Islamic legal mind than a military man.

“Attacks and operations will change in character depending on the style of the new leader. The new one might believe in big and intensive attacks, bombs or suicide bombers,” he said.

Despite Quraishi’s low profile and operational secrecy, his killing is likely to affect the group’s fighters, analysts say.

Hassan said Quraishi’s removal would reduce morale. “ISIS is also locked into personalities and who’s most trusted,” he said.

Aaron Zelin, senior fellow at the Washington Institute, said a figurehead is very important to ISIS.

“Whenever a leader of the group is killed, your oath is to the (next) leader, the individual themselves, and not to the group.”



Childhood Cancer Patients in Lebanon Must Battle Disease while Under Fire

Mohammad Mousawi, 8, a displaced boy from the southern suburb of Beirut who suffers from leukaemia, steps out the entrance of the Children's Cancer Center of Lebanon, in Beirut, Lebanon, Friday, Nov. 15, 2024. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla)
Mohammad Mousawi, 8, a displaced boy from the southern suburb of Beirut who suffers from leukaemia, steps out the entrance of the Children's Cancer Center of Lebanon, in Beirut, Lebanon, Friday, Nov. 15, 2024. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla)
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Childhood Cancer Patients in Lebanon Must Battle Disease while Under Fire

Mohammad Mousawi, 8, a displaced boy from the southern suburb of Beirut who suffers from leukaemia, steps out the entrance of the Children's Cancer Center of Lebanon, in Beirut, Lebanon, Friday, Nov. 15, 2024. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla)
Mohammad Mousawi, 8, a displaced boy from the southern suburb of Beirut who suffers from leukaemia, steps out the entrance of the Children's Cancer Center of Lebanon, in Beirut, Lebanon, Friday, Nov. 15, 2024. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla)

Carol Zeghayer gripped her IV as she hurried down the brightly lit hallway of Beirut’s children’s cancer center. The 9-year-old's face brightened when she spotted her playmates from the oncology ward.

Diagnosed with cancer just months before the conflict between Hezbollah and Israel erupted in October 2023, Carol relies on weekly trips to the center in the Lebanese capital for treatment.

But what used to be a 90-minute drive, now takes up to three hours on a mountainous road to skirt the heavy bombardment in south Lebanon, but still not without danger from Israeli airstrikes. The family is just one among many across Lebanon now grappling with the hardships of both illness and war.

“She’s just a child. When they strike, she asks me, ‘Mama, was that far?’” said her mother, Sindus Hamra, The AP reported.

The family lives in Hasbaya, a province in southeastern Lebanon where the rumble of Israeli airstrikes has become part of daily life. Just 15 minutes away from their home, in the front-line town of Khiam, Israeli troops and Hezbollah fighters clash amidst relentless bombardments.

On the morning of a recent trip to Beirut for her treatment, the family heard a rocket roar and its deafening impact as they left their home. Israeli airstrikes have also hit vehicles along the Damascus-Beirut highway, which Carol and her mother have to cross.

The bombardment hasn’t let up even as hopes grew in recent days that a ceasefire might soon be agreed.

More than war, Hamra fears that Carol will miss chemotherapy.

“Her situation is very tricky — her cancer can spread to her head,” Hamra said, her eyes filling with tears. Her daughter, diagnosed first with cancer of the lymph nodes and later leukemia, has completed a third of her treatment, with many months still ahead.

While Carol's family remains in their home, many in Lebanon have been displaced by an intensified Israeli bombardment that began in late September. Tens of thousands fled their homes in southern and eastern Lebanon, as well as Beirut’s southern suburbs — among them were families with children battling cancer.

The Children’s Cancer Center of Lebanon quickly identified each patient’s location to ensure treatments remained uninterrupted, sometimes facilitating them at hospitals closer to the families' new locations, said Zeina El Chami, the center’s fundraising and events executive.

During the first days of the escalation, the center admitted some patients for emergency care and kept them there as it was unsafe to send them home, said Dolly Noun, a pediatric hematologist and oncologist.

“They had no place to go,” she added. "We’ve had patients getting admitted for panic attacks. It has not been easy.”

The war has not only deepened the struggles of young patients.

“Many physicians have had to relocate,” Noun said. “I know physicians, who work here, who haven’t seen their parents in like six weeks because the roads are very dangerous.”

Since 2019, Lebanon has been battered by cascading crises — economic collapse, the devastating Beirut port explosion in 2020, and now a relentless war — leaving institutions like the cancer center struggling to secure the funds needed to save lives.

“Cancer waits for no one,” Chami said. The crises have affected the center’s ability to hold fundraising events in recent years, leaving it in urgent need of donations, she added.

The facility is currently treating more than 400 patients aged from few days to 18 years old, Chami said. It treats around 60% of children with cancer in Lebanon.

For Carol, the war is sometimes a topic of conversation with her friends at the cancer center. Her mother hears her recount hearing the booms and how the house shook.

For others, the moments with their friends in the center's playroom provide a brief escape from the grim reality outside.

Eight-year-old Mohammad Mousawi darts around the playroom, giggling as he hides objects and books for his playmate to find. Too absorbed by the game, he barely answers questions, before the nurse calls him for his weekly chemotherapy treatment.

His family lived in Ghobeiry, a neighborhood in Beirut’s southern suburbs. Their house was marked for destruction in an Israeli evacuation warning weeks ago, his mother said.

“But till now, they haven’t struck it,” said his mother, Suzan Mousawi. “They have hit (buildings) around it — two behind it and two in front of it.”

The family has relocated three times. They first moved to the mountains, but the bitter cold weakened Mohammad’s already fragile immune system.

Now they’ve settled in Ain el-Rummaneh, not far from their home in the southern Beirut suburbs known as Dahiyeh, which has come under significant bombardment. As the Israeli military widened the radius of its bombardment, some buildings hit were less than 500 meters (yards) from their current home.

The Mousawis have lived their entire lives in Dahiyeh, Suzan Mousawi said, until the war uprooted them. Her parents’ home was bombed. “All our memories are gone,” she said.

Mohammad has 15 weeks of treatment left, and his family is praying it will be successful. But the war has stolen some of their dreams.

“When Mohammad fell ill, we bought a house,” she said. “It wasn’t big, but it was something. I bought him an electric scooter and set up a pool, telling myself we’d take him there once he finishes treatment.”

She fears the house, bought with every penny she had saved, could be lost at any moment.

For some families, this kind of conflict is not new. Asinat Al Lahham, a 9-year-old patient of the cancer center, is a refugee whose family fled Syria.

“We escaped one war to another,” Asinat’s mother, Fatima, added.

As her father, Aouni, drove home from her chemotherapy treatment weeks ago, an airstrike happened. He cranked up the music in the car, trying to drown out the deafening sound of the attack.

Asinat sat in the back seat, clutching her favorite toy. “I wanted to distract her, to make her hear less of it,” he said.

In the medical ward on a recent day, Asinat sat in a chair hooked to an IV drip, negotiating with her doctor. “Just two or three small pinches,” she pleaded, asking for flavoring for her instant noodles that she is not supposed to have.

“I don’t feel safe ... nowhere is safe ... not Lebanon, not Syria, not Palestine,” Asinat said. “The sonic booms are scary, but the noodles make it better,” she added with a mischievous grin.

The family has no choice but to stay in Lebanon. Returning to Syria, where their home is gone, would mean giving up Asinat’s treatment.

“We can’t leave here,” her mother said. “This war, her illness ... it’s like there’s no escape.”