In Turkish-Funded Syria Camps, Tents Give Way to Homes
Internally displaced Syrians pictured in front of tents, before they became resident at a new housing complex in the opposition-held area of Bizaah, in the northern Aleppo governorate Bakr ALKASEM AFP
In Turkish-Funded Syria Camps, Tents Give Way to Homes
Internally displaced Syrians pictured in front of tents, before they became resident at a new housing complex in the opposition-held area of Bizaah, in the northern Aleppo governorate Bakr ALKASEM AFP
Syrian mother of four Maryam al-Hussein was relieved to have a roof over her head as she moved from a tent camp into a housing complex built with Turkish support.
"When I first heard that we were moving into a house, I couldn't believe it," the 28-year-old widow told AFP in opposition-held northern Syria.
"I was so happy that I couldn't think of anything other than the move," she said, sitting outside her new concrete home.
The housing complex built near the Turkish-held Syrian city of Al-Bab is the latest in a series of residential projects sponsored by Ankara.
Turkey's goal is to create a so-called "safe zone" along its border to keep Syrians displaced by war from crossing into its territory, and to allow it to send back some of the millions who already did.
The housing units, branded by local officials and their Turkish sponsors as a humanitarian action to assist displaced families, could also serve as a model for initiatives to resettle Syrian refugees living in Turkey.
Turkey and its proxies have seized control of territory inside Syria during several military operations launched since 2016.
In these regions, the Turkish lira has become the main currency and Ankara has helped set up hospitals, post offices and schools that teach the Turkish language.
Turkish non-governmental group the Humanitarian Relief Foundation (IHH) said it has supported the construction of more than 18,000 residential units in Syria's north since 2019.
"More than 50,000 people have settled in the houses we have built so far," said IHH secretary general Durmus Aydin.
Aydin said that twice as many will be sheltered in a total of 24,325 homes due to be completed by April.
The latest housing complex was built near the opposition-held area of Bizaah with the support of Turkey's AFAD emergencies agency, local officials said.
It consists of 300 one-storey concrete units with large metal doors and small side windows.
Each unit is made up of two rooms, a kitchen and a bathroom, and is equipped with its own water tank and costs about $2,500 to build, Aydin said.
They will be home to residents of a nearby displacement camp who were transferred there this month.
The complex -- which is one of many similar housing projects supported by AFAD -- includes a mosque and a school.
A medical center is currently under construction, local officials said.
For Maryam, the move marks a major upgrade from the dilapidated tent camps where she had lived with her father, brother and four children under harsh conditions.
Maryam, whose husband was killed in battles between opposition and Syrian regime forces, was displaced by war in 2019 and moved from one camp to another seeking refuge.
"In the winter, a house is better, because the rain does not seep in and in the summer it remains cool because stone deflects heat better than tents that turn into furnaces," she said.
Local official Hussein al-Issa, who oversees the resettlement of displaced families, said the Bizaah housing complex was built on land managed by an opposition-affiliated local council with "the full cooperation" of Turkey.
"These houses are temporary shelters for our displaced brothers," he said.
While many displaced families are grateful to Turkey for helping provide shelter, Mohammad Haj Moussa appeared dissatisfied.
"It's like we are lying to ourselves," the 38-year-old father of four told AFP.
"We want a (permanent) solution. We want to return to our homes," added Haj Moussa, who was displaced by war five year ago.
Since fleeing his home in the northwestern province of Idlib, Haj Moussa said he had moved from one displacement camp to another.
"This unit isn't too different" from the camps, he said. "It's a joke."
Nearby, Ahmed Mustafa Katouli said he was grateful to have a concrete roof over his head, but complained the units are too small.
"These houses do not make up for what we have lost," said the father of six, displaced from Aleppo with his wife nearly a decade ago.
"We have lost homes, land and martyrs," he said, adding that after years of surviving in tents, "I am forced to live here".
A Saddam Hussein mural is seen in Baghdad in 1991. (Getty Images)
People in Iraq often wonder dejectedly: What if Saddam Hussein were alive and ruling the country today? Many will reply with fantastical answers, but Saddam’s era would have responded: Iraq is isolated, either by siege or by a war that he launched or was being waged against him.
Many people cast doubt on whether actual change has been achieved in Iraq since the US invasion in 2003. The invasion ousted the Baath version of Iraq and Saddam was executed in December 2006, leaving questions to pile up over the years with no one having any answers.
After a quarter century, Iraq is accumulating questions. It casts them aside and forges ahead without addressing them. At best, it reviews itself and returns to that moment in April 2003 when the US launched its invasion. Or it asks new questions about the 2005 civil war, the armed alternatives that emerged in 2007, how ISIS swept through the country in 2014, or the wave of protests that erupted in 2019. It also asks new questions about Iran’s influence in the country that has persisted for decades.
The questions are many and none of the Iraqis have answered them.
A US marine wraps the American flag around the head of a Saddam Hussein statue in Baghdad. (Reuters file)
Saddam and the alternative
The September 11, 2001, attacks shook the United States and the entire world. They struck fear in Baghdad. Saddam had that year claimed that he had written a book, “The Fortified Castle”, about an Iraqi soldier who is captured by Iran. He manages to escape and return to Iraq to “fortify the castle”.
The terrifying Saddam and the terrified Iraqis have long spun tales about escaping to and from Iraq. It is a journey between the question and the non-answers. That year, when Baghdad was accused of being complicit in the 9/11 attacks, Saddam’s son Uday was “elected” member of the Baath party’s leadership council. The move sparked debate about possible change in Iraq. Bashar al-Assad had a year earlier inherited the presidency of Syria and its Baath party from his father Hafez.
The US invaded Iraq two years later and a new Iraq was born. Twenty-five years later, the country is still not fully grown up. Twenty-one years ago, on April 9, 2003, a US marine wrapped the head of a Saddam statue in Baghdad with an American flag. The Iraqis asked: why didn’t you leave us this iconic image, but instead of an American flag, used an Iraqi one?
Baghdad’s question and Washington’s answer
As the Iraqis observe the developments unfold in Syris with the ouster of Bashar from power, they can’t help but ask how this rapid “change” could have been possible without US tanks and weapons. Why are the Syrians insisting on celebrating “freedom” every day? They are also astonished at the Syrians who scramble to greet Abu Mohammed al-Golani, who has not yet managed to put this image behind him and fully assume his original identity of Ahmed al-Sharaa. The Iraqis wonder how the Syrians are managing this transition so far without a bloodbath.
They ask these questions because the Iraqis view and judge the world based on their own memories. They keep asking questions and await answers from others instead of themselves.
The Iraqis recall how in August 2003, after four months of US occupation, that the Jordanian embassy and United Nations offices were attacked, leaving several staff dead, including head of the UN mission Sergio de Mello. The Americans arrested Ali Hassan al-Majid, or “chemical Ali”, Saddam’s cousin, and 125 people were killed in a bombing in al-Najaf, including Shiite cleric Mohammed Baqer al-Hakim.
During that bloody month, the Iraqis asked questions about security, forgetting about Saddam’s alternative, democracy and the promised western model. Later, the facts would answer that the question of security was a means to escape questions about transitional justice.
Sergio de Mello (r) and Paul Bremmer (second right) attend the inaugural meeting of the Iraqi Governing Council in Baghdad on July 13, 2003. (Getty Images)
The question of civil war
Paul Bremer, the American ruler of Iraq, once escorted four opposition figures to Saddam’s prison cell. They flooded him with questions. Adnan al-Pachachi, a veteran diplomat, asked: “Why did you invade Kuwait?” Adel Abdul Mahdi, a former prime minister, asked: “Why did you kill the Kurds in the Anfal massacre?” Mowaffak al-Rubaie, a former national security adviser, asked: “Why did you kill your Baath comrades?” Ahmed al-Halabi simply insulted the former president. Saddam recoiled and then just smiled.
Saddam’s opponents left the prison cell with answers that should have helped them in running the transitional justice administration, but they failed.
The following year, Washington appointed Ayad Allawi to head the interim Iraqi Governing Council (IGC) that had limited jurisdiction so that it could be free to wage two fierce battles: one in Najaf against the “Mahdi Army”, headed by Moqtada al-Sadr, and the other against armed groups comprised of “resistance fighters” and “extremists” in Fallujah.
The opposition in the IGC got to work that was already prepared by the Americans. They outlined the distribution of Shiites, Sunnis and Kurds in the country, with historic questions about the majority and minority, and the “oppressed” now assuming rule after the ouster of the “oppressors”.
On the ground, the Ghazaliya neighborhood in western Baghdad with its Shiite and Sunni residents was in store for a bloodbath. On a winter night in 2005, an entire family was massacred and an enfant strangled to death. Soon after, lines drawing the Shiite and Sunni sections of the neighborhood emerged. The popular market became the tense border between the two halves. Two new rival “enemies” traded attacks, claiming several lives.
In Baghdad’s Green Zone, the IGC drew up a draft of the transitional rule. In January 2005, 8 million Iraqis voted for the establishment of a National Assembly.
Meanwhile, different “armies” kept on emerging in Baghdad. The media was filled with the death tolls of bloody relentless sectarian attacks. Checkpoints manned by masked gunmen popped up across the capital.
Those days seemed to answer the question of “who was the alternative to Saddam.” No one needed a concrete answer because the developments spoke for themselves.
Nouri al-Maliki came to power as prime minister in 2006. He famously declared: “I am the state of law” - in both the figurative and literal sense. Iraqis believed he had answers about the “state” and “law”, dismissing the very pointed “I” in his “manifesto”.
Nouri al-Maliki. (Getty Images)
The Maliki question
The American admired Maliki. Then Vice President Dick Cheney had repeatedly declared that he was committed to the establishment of a stable Iraq. Before that however, he had dispatched James Steele - who was once complicit in running dirty wars in El Salvador in the mid-1980s - to Baghdad to confront the “Sunni rebellion”. Steele set up the Shiite “death squads”. Steele was the man in the shadows behind Ahmed Kazim, then interior minister undersecretary, and behind him stood the new warlords.
In 2006, the political process was shaken by the bombing of the Al-Askari Shrine in Samarra. Questions were asked about the “need” to draw up new maps. Shiite high authority Ali al-Sistani said in February 2007 that the Sunnis were not involved in the attack. In July 2013, Maliki denied an American accusation that Tehran was behind it.
In those days, Maliki’s ego was growing ever bigger, and Steele’s death squads were rapidly growing greater in numbers.
The Iran and ISIS questions
Maliki tried to save himself as one city after another fell into the hands of ISIS. On June 9, 2014, as ISIS was waging battles in Mosul, Maliki met with senior Sunni tribal elders based on advice he had not heeded earlier and which could have averted the current disaster.
It was said that he made reluctant pledges to them and a third of Iraq later fell in ISIS’ hands. Sistani later issued a fatwa for “jihad” against the group, which later turned out not be aimed at saving the premier.
Maliki left the scene and Qassem Soleimani, commander of Iran’s Revolutionary Guard Corps’ (IRGC) Quds Force, took over. Successive prime ministers would know from then on what it is like to be shackled by Tehran’s pressure as IRGC officials made regular visits to their offices.
Soleimani reaped what Steele sowed. By 2017, armed factions were the dominant force in Iraq. Running in their orbit were other factions that took turns in “rebelling” against the government or agreeing with its choices.
Today, and after 14 years, Iran has consolidated what can be described as the “resistance playground” in Iraq that is teeming with armed factions and massive budgets.
Protesters in Baghdad’s Tahrir Square in October 2019. (AFP)
The October question
The Iraqis were unable to answer the ISIS question and the armed factions claimed “victory” against the group. Many ignored Sistani’s “answer” about whether the Popular Mobilization Forces (PMF) was there to protect Iraq or just its Shiites.
Exhausted Iraqis asked: “What next?”
Next came Adel Abdul Mahdi’s government in October 2018. It was weighed down by unanswered questions and a year later, thousands of youths took to the streets to protest the state of affairs in Iraq, specifically the dominance of armed groups.
They were met with live bullets. Many were abducted and others were silenced. Abdul Mehdi acquitted the killers, saying instead that a “fifth column” had carried out the bloody crackdown on protesters.
After he left office, some Iraqi politicians were brave enough to tell the truth, dismissing former PM’s acquittal and pinning blame on the factions.
Sistani called for PMF members to quit their partisan affiliations. His demand was left unheeded. Mustafa al-Qadhimi became prime minister in May 2020. He left office months later, also failing in resolving the issue of the PMF and armed factions.
By 2022, everyone had left the scene, but Iran remained, claiming the Iraqi crown for itself, controlling everything from its finances to its weapons.
Question about post-Assad Syria
On December 8, Syria’s Bashar fled the country. Everyone in Iraq is asking what happens next. The whole system in Iraq is at a loss: Do we wait for how Tehran will deal with Ahmed al-Sharaa, or do we ask Abu Mohammed al-Golani about his memories in Iraq?
The Iraqi people’s memories are what’s ruling the country, more so than the constitution, political parties and civil society because they are burdened with questions they don’t want to answer.
And yet they ask: What if we weren’t part of the “Axis of Resistance”? Iraq’s history would reply that it has long been part of axes, or either awaiting a war or taking part in them.
