Britain and the US… And the Round of Violence in Iraq

Saraya al-Salam fighters taking part in the recent skirmishes in Baghdad. (AFP)
Saraya al-Salam fighters taking part in the recent skirmishes in Baghdad. (AFP)
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Britain and the US… And the Round of Violence in Iraq

Saraya al-Salam fighters taking part in the recent skirmishes in Baghdad. (AFP)
Saraya al-Salam fighters taking part in the recent skirmishes in Baghdad. (AFP)

In contrast to its establishment by the British in the early twentieth century, the second effort to establish an Iraqi state, made this century by the US, was chaotic and not based on a vision for how to build it.

There is an immense difference in scale between the two foundations. Iraq had not been a state but three provinces (Baghdad, Mosul, and Basra) of the Ottoman Empire after the First World War, while it was a single country that had been around for 80 years and had the fifth or sixth largest army in the world when Saddam was toppled by the US in 2003.

While Mrs. Gertrude Bell, the Oriental Secretary to the British High Commissioner, was heavily involved in the British effort to establish the new state of Iraq, and she brought in an Arab king from the Hejaz to rule the country, the Americans appointed Paul Bremer as the first top civilian administrator in Iraq, and he went on to destroy the Iraq capacities of state in vain.

The English version of the Iraqi state had a single national identity, as demonstrated by the fact that senior Shiite clerics engaged with the founding of the country from the lens of their national (Arab) identity, not their (Muslim) religious or (Shiite) confessional identity.

When a delegation visited Sharif Hussein bin Ali, they sought to persuade him to allow one of his sons to become king of Iraq.

Everything had changed 80 years later. While in its middle age, what were dubbed grievances of the oppressed began to emerge within the modern Iraqi state. These were especially prevalent during Saddam Hussein’s long rule (1968 - 2003), when it became apparent that some Iraqis were being discriminated against on an ethnic (the persecution of the Kurds, including the Halabja massacre) and confessional (the persecution of the Shiites, which would eventually go as far as prohibiting their Ashura rituals) basis.

All of this history was very much there as the US tanks rolled in with the support and encouragement of Iraq’s new rulers, who had been opposed to Saddam.

Bremer touches on these issues and others in his book “My Year in Iraq”, and many of those he named were part of the Iraqi Governing Council and are so-called founding fathers of the current regime.

Moqtada al-Sadr was still a young man at the tender age of 29 at the time. He inherited the religious leadership position of his father, Muhammad Muhammad Sadiq al-Sadr (one of the most influential Shiite clerics in the country) after the latter was assassinated by Saddam in 1999.

The young Sadr, who was seen as a local insider in the sense that he did not arrive in the country on the backs of American tanks like the other opposition forces, quickly decided to launch a resistance movement targeting the Americans with the Sunni resistance.

While these battles eventually led to a sectarian war after the bombing of the Samarra shrine (2006 - 2008), Sadr went on to become among the most influential leaders in Iraq today.

Because the US made the mistake of establishing a political regime built on spoil-sharing among ethnic and confessional groups in Iraq, the national identity of the country was erased, with sub-identities (ethnic, religious, regional, sectarian) replacing it.

The prominence of these identities made it impossible to form a government that could overcome the dominance of spoil-sharing, which shapes all aspects of state building and strengthens religious, partisan, militia, and tribal leaders at the expense of political officials.

In light of this precarious state of affairs, it seems that any shake-up would have a domino effect and lead to successive crises. This happened several times during the October revolution in 2019, leaving hundreds dead and tens of thousands injured, and more recently during the wave of protests launched by the Sadrists.

While a so-called third party was held responsible for what happened during the October protests, the violence that followed Sadr’s announcement that he would retire from political life could not be blamed on a third party.

It was patently obvious that only two sides were involved. On the one hand, is the Sadrist Movement led by Moqtada al-Sadr, and on the other is Coordination Framework, an alliance led by the country’s other powerful Shiite leaders: Nouri al-Maliki, Hadi al-Ameri, Qais Khazali, Ammar al-Hakim, Haider al-Abadi and Falih al-Fayyad.

In this instance, Sadr moved quickly and decisively after he felt and acknowledged that he had been as responsible for the bloodshed as the others and ordered his followers to withdraw. His followers did indeed withdraw within the deadline of one hour that he had set.

Does that mean the state will function normally again? All indications point to what happened being a round of violence that could be a prelude to another. The reason now and always will be the faulty foundation of Iraq, one that sharply differs from that laid by Mrs. Bell.



Morocco Mobile Desalination Units Quench Remote Areas' Thirst

Since 2023, Morocco has built some 44 of these desalination stations, also called "monobloc" -- compact, transportable units © - / AFP
Since 2023, Morocco has built some 44 of these desalination stations, also called "monobloc" -- compact, transportable units © - / AFP
TT

Morocco Mobile Desalination Units Quench Remote Areas' Thirst

Since 2023, Morocco has built some 44 of these desalination stations, also called "monobloc" -- compact, transportable units © - / AFP
Since 2023, Morocco has built some 44 of these desalination stations, also called "monobloc" -- compact, transportable units © - / AFP

In the small fishing village of Beddouza in western Morocco, locals have turned to the Atlantic to quench their thirst, using mobile desalination stations to combat the kingdom's persistent drought.

Since 2023, Morocco has built some 44 of these desalination stations, also called "monobloc" -- compact, transportable units that have come as a boon against the increasingly tangible effects of climate change.

The potable water is distributed with tanker trucks to remote areas in the country, currently grappling with its worst drought in nearly 40 years.

"We heard about desalinated water in other villages, but we never expected to have it here," said Karim, a 27-year-old fisherman who did not give his last name, gathered among dozens with jerrycans to collect his share of water.

Hassan Kheir, 74, another villager, described the mobile stations as a godsend, as groundwater in the region "has dried up".

Some 45,000 people now have access to drinking water directly from the ocean in Beddouza, about 180 kilometres (112 miles) northwest of Marrakesh, as a result of three monobloc desalination stations.

These units can potentially cover a radius of up to 180 kilometres, according to Yassine Maliari, an official in charge of local water distribution.

With nearly depleted dams and bone-dry water tables, some three million people in rural Morocco urgently need drinking water, according to official figures, and the kingdom has promised to build 219 more desalination stations.

Monobloc stations can produce up to 3,600 cubic metres of drinking water per day and are "the best possible solution" given the ease of distributing them, said Maliari.

For cities with greater needs, like Casablanca, larger desalination plants are also under construction, adding to 12 existing national plants with a total capacity of nearly 180 million cubic metres of drinking water per year.

By 2040, Morocco is poised to face "extremely high" water stress, a dire prediction from the World Resources Institute, a non-profit research organisation.

With coasts on both the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean, the North African country has banked on desalination for water security.

In Beddouza, the population is relatively better off than those in remote areas further inland.

About 200 kilometres east, in Al-Massira, the country's second-largest dam has nearly dried up.

The dam has filled up to an alarmingly meagre 0.4 percent, compared to 75 percent in 2017, Abdelghani Ait Bahssou, a desalination plant manager in the coastal city of Safi, told AFP.

The country's overall dam fill rates currently average 28 percent but are feared to shrink by 2050 as drought is expected to persist, according to the agriculture ministry.

Over that same period, official figures project an 11-percent drop in rainfall and a rise in temperatures of 1.3 degrees Celsius.

As the country grapples with the increasingly volatile effects of climate change, King Mohammed VI has pledged that desalination will provide more than 1.7 billion cubic metres per year and cover more than half of the country's drinking water needs by 2030.

The lack of water also threatens Morocco's vital agriculture sector, which employs around a third of the working-age population and accounts for 14 percent of exports.

Cultivated areas across the kingdom are expected to shrink to 2.5 million hectares in 2024 compared with 3.7 million last year, according to official figures.

In 2023, 25 percent of desalinated water was alloted to agriculture, which consumes more than 80 percent of the country's water resources.

Against this backdrop, authorities in Safi were in a "race against time" to build a regular desalination plant which now serves all of its 400,000 residents, said Bahssou.

The plant is set to be expanded to also provide water by 2026 for Marrakesh and its 1.4 million residents, some 150 kilometres east of Safi, Bahssou added.