Abstract
The Middle East and North Africa (MENA) is often described as the cradle of the three Abrahamic faiths and Iraq as a land “where faith was born.” But the past two decades have dealt a severe, possibly fatal blow to religious communities that were once vibrant and integral parts of Iraq’s social fabric—and perhaps to the very idea of pluralism in the region. Ensuring the continued presence of religious minority communities is vital to preserving Iraq’s social diversity and nurturing a culture of pluralism. Iraq’s best hope to save its vanishing minorities from extinction and revive religious pluralism lies in the Iraqi Region of Kurdistan (IRK). Fully incorporating displaced non-Muslim components of Iraqi society into host communities in the IRK while preserving their distinctive collective identity would advance the prospects for the survival of religious minorities and the future of pluralism in the IRK, the country at large, and the wider region.
Introduction
The Middle East and North Africa (MENA) is the cradle of the three Abrahamic faiths—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—with more than four billion adherents worldwide. However, over the past two decades, freedom of religion or belief (FoRB) across the region has taken a turn for the worse (Amnesty International, 2019; Mounstephen, 2019; Pew Research Center, 2016; Pontifex & Newton, 2018). The rise of religious extremism, political unrest, civil wars, and generalized violence have contributed to a climate of intense social hostility toward minorities accompanied by pervasive government restrictions on religious worship, as well as various forms of religious persecution and sectarian bloodletting. The situation for non-Muslim religious minorities in Iraq—described by Pope Francis during his historic March 2021 visit as a land “where faith was born” (Catholic News Agency [CNA], 2021)—is especially precarious. In recent years, Iraqi Christians and members of other minority communities have been victims of multiple waves of brutal atrocities and forced displacement. A 2019 report commissioned by the British Foreign Secretary found that Iraq’s Christian population had plummeted from 1.5 million before 2003 to possibly less than 120,000 (Mounstephen, 2019).
The past two decades have dealt a severe, possibly fatal blow to communities that were once vibrant and integral parts of Iraq’s social fabric—and perhaps to the very idea of pluralism in the region. If religious pluralism “ends where violence begins” (Banchoff, 2008, p. 5), what are the prospects for its regeneration given the bloody and tumultuous path Iraq has followed since Saddam Hussein was deposed in 2003? For the members of non-Muslim religious communities still present and internally displaced within Iraq, displacement is increasingly protracted. However, those displaced (largely in urban settings) in Iraqi Kurdistan Region (IRK), unlike in most other areas across the country, are living in relative safety and coexisting peacefully (IOM, 2021a). Therefore, this article will argue that the best hope for rekindling the flickering embers of religious pluralism in Iraq lies in promoting the full integration of members of religious minorities living in conditions of protracted displacement into the local communities within the Kurdistan region where they have been residing.
Freedom of Religion or Belief and Religious Pluralism
Although “freedom of religion or belief” is a fundamental human right recognized in all the major human rights treaties, none of the international instruments guaranteeing it defines the term. Article 18 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, drafted in 1948, remains the most universal expression of that right at the international level:
Everyone has the right to freedom of thought, conscience and religion; this right includes freedom to change his religion or belief and freedom, either alone or in community with others and in public or private, to manifest his religion or belief in teaching, practice, worship and observance. (UDHR, 1948)
FoRB is an integral part of a broader system of international human rights standards. It is widely recognized that the promotion and safeguarding of FoRB can help bolster other freedoms with which it is intrinsically linked (Corvino et al., 2017, p. 109; Makridis, 2021). In addition, FoRB offers hope, consolation, moral guidance, and inspiration to billions of individuals across the globe. It also benefits society (i.e., the common good), as religious organizations are especially effective at mobilizing social capital to serve others. Another oft-cited benefit of FoRB is its positive and significant correlation with a variety of democracy measures and economic growth (Grim et al., 2014; Makridis, 2021).
What, then, is the relationship between the fundamental right of FoRB—along with the benefits it confers—and “religious pluralism?” The latter has both empirical and normative elements. In empirical terms, religious traditions differ along many dimensions, ranging from the doctrinal and philosophical, to the ritual and practical (Smart, 1966). However, as employed in this article, the term “religious pluralism” does not merely signify the simple observable fact of religious diversity in any given society. Instead, religious pluralism refers to one of several possible responses to this diversity—a response that almost always asserts positive value for many or most religions. Following Cox, “pluralism is not a fact to be lived with, but a desirable goal for our society and ultimately for our whole world” (Cox, 1974, p. 150). This normative conception of religious pluralism is anchored in the conviction that societies flourish when differences are valued.
The empirical phenomenon of religious pluralism—that is, the existence of different faith traditions—does not necessarily entail public acceptance of religious diversity. However, where such acceptance exists, it may take the form of “toleration,” which can be understood as self-restraint when confronted with different beliefs or behaviors, even antagonistic. Put differently, religious toleration signifies “no more than forbearance and the permission given by the adherents of a dominant religion for other religions to exist, even though the latter are looked on with disapproval as inferior, mistaken, or harmful” (Zagorin, 2003, pp. 5–6). By contrast, the pluralistic attitude promotes the endorsement of difference (Walzer, 1997, pp. 10–11). It represents “a commitment to recognize and understand others across perceived or claimed lines of religious differences” (Bender & Klassen, 2010, p. 2). Religious pluralism, as defined here, portrays a world that has moved beyond mere toleration toward proactive engagement with religious difference; it represents an approach aimed at building trust and understanding between those of different faith traditions and at protecting freedom of belief, irrespective of one’s own faith or worldview.
FoRB and religious pluralism are thus inextricably intertwined. The abridgment of the rights of one religious adherent imperils the rights of all believers. Religious pluralism is rooted in the principle of freedom of conscience and belief, which creates the possibility of a society where diverse faiths can coexist. A commitment to religious pluralism—that is, to ensure that religious ideas and adherents enjoy protection and access to social and political life and that a wide range of doctrinal interpretations and religious practices flourish—can contribute to a society’s stability and security (Grim & Finke, 2011). Conversely, suppression of religious freedom or belief can escalate social hostilities (Grim & Finke, 2011; Saiya, 2018).
Whereas liberal political ideology regards religious freedom or belief as important and beneficial, many non-liberal governments consider religion a potential challenge to their rule (Koesel, 2017; Sarkissian, 2015). And while religious freedom can be found in an increasing number of constitutions and international documents, guarantees are often unrealized, even in democracies (Fox, 2021). The Pew Research Center has identified two broad types of infringements on the selection, profession, or practice of religion: government restrictions and social hostilities. Over the past two decades, a great deal of information has been gathered regarding the state of international religious freedom. As a result, there is today a rich trove of systematic data collections on religious regulations and hostilities, the most prominent of which are the Pew Research Center’s Global Restrictions on Religion (Pew) data; the Association of Religious Data Archives (ARDA) and the latter’s Religion and State (RAS) project; and the Varieties of Democracy (V-Dem) project.
However, the spotlight on this once considered “orphan of human rights” (Hertzke, 2004, p. 69) has revealed a distressing trend. The Pew Research Center’s 11th annual study surveying restrictions on freedom of religion in 198 nations, issued in November 2020, reported that persecution of religious believers has worsened (Pew Research Center, 2020). This is despite efforts by the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC) and General Assembly (UNGA) to counter violence based on religion or belief through landmark resolutions and other actions. 1
Religious Pluralism and the MENA Region
As in all prior years of the Pew study, of the five regions examined, the MENA had the highest median level of government restrictions on religion in 2018—double the global median. In addition, the study identified 11 MENA countries as having “high” or “very high” levels of social hostilities involving religion and all 20 countries as having “high” or “very high” levels of overall restrictions on religion—the latter reflecting either government actions or hostile acts by private individuals, organizations, or social groups.
Although, since the Pew studies were launched in 2007, the MENA—where Islam is the predominant faith—has consistently been the region most hostile to religion, it is important to note that religious pluralism is accepted in Islam. The Qur’an and hadiths recognize the right to practice an individual’s belief (Bonner, 2008, pp. 23–31; Cole & Hammond, 1974). Fundamentally, in Islam, there exists the belief that the teachings of all world religions contain truths and goodness (Bin Ali, 2018).
Furthermore, in the Qur’an, tolerance is regarded as a prerequisite for coexistence and as essential to the realization of sustained peace between communities (Usman, 2018). But, as Considine has argued, Prophet Muhammad’s relationships with Christians were characterized by more than mere tolerance: “According to Prophet Muhammad, a nation consisting predominantly of Muslims does not necessarily mean that the nation is ‘Islamic’: it can become truly ‘Islamic’ only by virtue of consciously turning to religious pluralism and civic rights as the pillars of the ummah” (Considine, 2016, p. 15). Far from denying the validity of Judaism and Christianity, the Qur’an repeatedly affirms their essential truth. Because their prophets and scriptures are recognized in the Islamic law, the “People of the Book” (Ahl al-Kitab) were allowed to perform their religious and communal duties though their rights and obligations differ from those of their Muslim counterparts.
Despite long-standing antagonisms, religious minorities have not only survived but also flourished in the MENA region through over 15 centuries of Islamic domination. By and large, the Ottoman-Islamic tradition was one of the limited religious minority accommodations. The millet system of the Empire recognized Jews and various Christian denominations as “protected communities” (dhimmi) and granted them significant autonomy to govern education, family law, and religious affairs (Masters, 2004). This bifurcated legal system helped religious minorities to gain disproportionate prominence in business and finance (Kuran, 2004). Yet, protected though they were members of dhimmi communities were nonetheless subject to numerous restrictions and thus essentially remained second-class citizens (Aral, 2004, pp. 475–477; Khadduri, 2010, pp. 196–198).
Between 1809 and 1876, the Ottoman government launched military campaigns against the followers of Yazidism (Hassan Ali, 2019). In the two decades before the outbreak of the World War I, there was growing European intervention in Ottoman domestic affairs in the name of the “sacred” duty of monitoring the “protection” of helpless groups in the face of “despotic” authorities. Those who were considered millets, with a well-defined and recognized subordinate status in the Muslim body politic, were suddenly designated as “minorities.” The collapse of the Ottoman Empire and World War I ushered in a period of horrific violence against religious (largely Christian) minorities in which an estimated 250,000 Assyrians and perhaps as many as 1.5 million Armenians perished (Akçam, 2012; Gaunt et al., 2019). After the World War I, religious minority rights were incorporated into the legal frameworks governing the British and French Mandate territories (Mahmood, 2012). Yet, during the Mandate period, both Britain and France followed a divide-and-rule strategy that exploited existing sectarian divisions (Nir, 2014; Salamey, 2013). As a result, “as damaging as the loss of Ottoman territory was the loss of its pluralist ideal” (Pelham, 2016, p. 33).
In the contemporary period, exclusivist interpretations of the Qur’an have been used to justify dominion over other Muslims in reaction against modernity, economic deprivation, the failure of borrowed ideologies, global domination by western powers, and support by such powers for repressive regimes in predominantly Muslim lands. The long-standing struggle between pluralist and exclusivist strands in the Islamic tradition persists (Mottahedeh, 1992; Sachedina, 2001). Whereas some Islamic scholars contend that sharia does not allow non-Muslim minorities to enjoy religious freedoms in a Muslim-majority nation, other scholars disagree (Badri, 2018). Indeed, throughout the contemporary MENA—and across the Muslim world—religious pluralism is a contested issue. Nearly all MENA countries, for example, criminalize apostasy and blasphemy (Wikimedia). In fact, for well over a decade, the level of religious restrictions across the MENA, which had started high, has continued to rise (Pew Research Center, 2019). Meanwhile, extremist groups have exploited institutional weaknesses in the judicial and law enforcement systems to threaten non-Muslims. As a result, radical ideologies have fueled societal intolerance against religious minorities. In addition, difficult economic conditions and joblessness have created incentives for non-Muslims to seek to emigrate.
The Al-Azhar Declaration (2017), which challenges the prevailing popular perception that Muslim countries are relatively closed societies, especially in relation to non-Muslims, asserted that Islam is compatible with religious pluralism (Oasis, 2017). Nevertheless, few would argue against the proposition that religious minorities in the Middle East have faced grave challenges in recent years, albeit the status of non-Muslim communities in the region does vary significantly by country. Still, government repression and societal violence targeting religious minorities have been occurring regionwide. This trend has been fueled by “sectarian entrepreneurs,” who have successfully manipulated latent religious identities (Dodge, 2014; Gause, 2014; Hashemi & Postel, 2017; Makdisi, 2000; Weiss, 2010).
The precarity of the status of religious minorities in the Middle East holds true, especially for the region’s increasingly beleaguered Christian communities. Basic equality in citizenship is a common challenge for Christians in the Middle East. Christians throughout the region experience various forms of persecution and discrimination, including mob violence and harassment; sexual and gender-based violence; expulsion from cities and neighborhoods; destruction of religious property and cultural heritage; unlawful seizure of houses and land; lack of legal and constitutional protections; restrictions on and suppression of the practice of religion; arbitrary arrests and imprisonment; kidnapping and killings of religious leaders; and impunity in the security and justice sectors (ACNUK, 2016; Haidar, 2017; Hanish, 2014; Katulis et al., 2015; Nicolas, 2016; Puttick & Verbakel, 2016; USCRF, 2016).
Iraq’s Vulnerable Religious Minorities
Composition of Iraq’s Vulnerable Religious Minorities.
But Iraq’s non-Muslim religious communities are disappearing. Although the Iraqi Christians’ presence in the country began to contract at the turn of the twentieth century (Johnson & Zurlo, 2015), emigration and a falling birth rate progressively reduced their number. Moreover, repeated cycles of violent persecution of Iraqi Christians have accelerated the decline in their number, reinforced the spatial and political divisions among them, heightened their vulnerability, and placed the very survival of their communities at risk. The British Mandate of Iraq (1920–1932) brought the promise of equality under the law for religious minorities but produced no radical change on the ground (Müller-Sommerfeld, 2016, p. 265). Assyrian Christians, for example, were viewed as extensions of British colonial power and, therefore, as obstacles to the Iraqi nationalist project (Travis, 2006). Arab and Kurdish Iraqis’ perception of the Assyrians as a dangerous, foreign element within society fueled Iraqi nationalist militarism that manifested in 1933 in the massacre in Simele and surrounding villages (Donabed, 2015).
The most tragic episode in Iraq’s multicultural history was the mass exodus in the 1950s of its Jewish community, whose presence dated back more than 26 centuries (Basri, 2002; Shiblak, 2005). But there are other stark examples of violence perpetrated against religious minorities. For example, between 1961 and 1965, while attempting to subdue the Kurdish revolt, the Iraqi army and pro-government militias destroyed dozens of Christian villages in Kurdistan and displaced their residents (Mustafa & Kolo, 2017).
The ascendancy of the Ba’ath Party promised more of a respite for religious minorities than Ba’athist rule ultimately provided. From its beginnings in the 1960s until the early 1990s, Iraqi Ba’athism was strictly secular and revolutionary. For example, Iraq’s constitution under Saddam Hussein guaranteed freedom of religion. 2 However, any group that threatened the Saddam regime was ruthlessly suppressed. The most infamous example is the Anfal campaign of the 1980s, in which the regime used chemical weapons in northern Iraq to kill thousands of Kurds. But it is important to note that Iraqi Christians were targeted alongside Kurds during that vicious campaign (Donabed, 2015).
It is also important to place the collective suffering of Iraqi Christians and other religious minorities during the Ba’athist period within a larger legacy of violence. Under Saddam, the Shi’a majority was subjected to a violent campaign of brutal persecution and suppression, though primarily for political, not religious doctrinal reasons (Anderson & Stansfield, 2005; Osman, 2014, p. 84; Tripp, 2007, pp. 246—247). Saddam co-opted Islamic discourse when it suited him politically. He invoked Iraqi Arab identity to counter sectarian appeals during the war with Iran. And he launched the “National Faith Campaign” (hamla imaniyya), a multi-pronged effort to instrumentalize religion for political ends (Bengio, 1998; Dawisha, 1999; Helfont, 2014).
However, it is in the context of the upsurge of sectarian and extremist violence and the recasting of the political system since the fall of Saddam that FoRB and the very existence of Iraq’s religious minority communities have faced their gravest challenge. Amid the deterioration of security and the sectarian bloodbath that prevailed in the years following the 2003 US-led invasion, Christians in Iraq—among the first groups targeted by Sunni and Shi’a armed militias—fled the main cities of Baghdad and Basra toward Nineveh Governorate and the Kurdistan region (Hanish, 2015; Mustafa & Kolo, 2017). But even in the north, Christians were subject to extremist attacks, particularly in Mosul (Mounstephen, 2019). Violations of religious freedom not only were severe but also were tolerated by the government and, in some cases, committed by government forces (USCIRF, 2007, pp. 30—35). Of the many thousands of Iraqis uprooted from their homes and ancestral homelands, the number of religious (and ethnic) minorities forcibly displaced was disproportionately high (Taneja, 2007).
Iraq’s “long history of sectarian coexistence” (Visser, 2007, p. 93) was sacrificed on the altar of a post-Saddam state-building project that produced a political system variously described as an elite pact (McGarry & O’Leary, 2007), a consociational democracy (Bogaards, 2021; Dodge, 2012, pp. 147–174), and a fragile, limited access order (North et al., 2009). Under occupation, that system “was quite consciously patterned on sectarian organizing principles, which emergent sectarian political factions were quick to capitalize upon” (Ismael & Ismael, 2015, p. 8). The first national elections in post-Saddam Iraq (held on January 30, 2005) were run under a closed list system that simplified the electoral process but mobilized voters along communal lines (Dodge, 2021).
Article 2 of the Iraqi Constitution (2005) states that all individuals (including minorities such as Mandean Sabeans, Yazidis, and Christians) have full religious rights and freedom of religious belief and practice. However, that same provision contains a clause that stipulates that “No law that contradicts the established provisions of Islam may be established”—a troubling contradiction. Article 3 explicitly acknowledges that Iraq is a country of multiple sects, religions, and nationalities. In addition, the constitution prohibits discrimination against persons based on belief, sect, or religion (among other things). Yet, the informal but inflexible power-sharing arrangements embedded in the constitution have failed to deliver “a stable framework for the accommodation of communal tensions” (Bogaards, 2021, p. 2) and instead “have given rise to systematically sanctioned corruption” and other problems (Dodge, 2020, p. 148). Moreover, the post-2003 political dispensation, designed to reverse the legacy of the Saddam period by ensuring participation of all majority groups, features a sectarian apportionment system (muhasasa ta’ifia) that did not give a voice to minorities. Neither has it proved to protect them from violence and discrimination (Abdel-Razek & Puttick, 2016; Al-Shadeedi & Van Veen, 2020; Mikail, 2020).
Indeed, despite constitutional guarantees of freedom of belief, religious minorities have been subjected to violence and displacement, most recently, the genocidal atrocities committed against non-Muslim religious minorities and mass killings of Iraqi Shi’a by the Islamic State (Da’esh) (Freedom House, 2021). Minority groups report that they continue to face legal, political, and economic marginalization (UNHCR, 2019). Since Da’esh’s defeat in 2016, some Iraqi political leaders have expressed support for religious pluralism, and religious minorities living in liberated areas have largely been able to practice their faith freely. Nevertheless, they still suffer persecution or discrimination in areas where they constitute a minority (Freedom House, 2021, Sections D & F). The US Commission on International Religious Freedom report issued in April 2021 declared that “religious freedom conditions in Iraq remained poor despite the ostensibly significant Sinjar Security Agreement signed by the Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG) and the Iraqi Federal Government (IFG) to provide protection for religious minorities” (USCIRF, 2021, p. 74).
Iraq’s minority communities remain fearful of the lingering potential for a reemergence of Da’esh or similar groups. Meanwhile, Iranian-backed militia groups under the Popular Mobilization Forces (PMF), operating with impunity, have continued their harassment of religious and ethnic minorities, especially in northern Iraq, making the improvement of religious freedom conditions more difficult. Members of these long-suffering communities continue to face extortion, threats, and intimidation (Halemba & Bisits, 2020, p. 42).
Healing the Heartland
Iraq’s best hope to save its vanishing ethnoreligious minorities from extinction and revive religious pluralism lies in Kurdistan. The IRK—the historic heartland of the ancient Mesopotamian Christian communities and home to many other minorities—has served as a haven for hundreds of thousands who have fled the violence of central and southern Iraq since Saddam was deposed. The majority of Iraqi Christians, almost the entire surviving Yazidi community, Shi’a and Sunni Turkmen, Shabak, Kaka’i, Sabean Mandeans and Baha’i, along with adherents to Zoroastrianism today reside in the IRK.
As the Baghdad-based IFG exercises little power within the IRK, responsibility for upholding religious freedom there falls on the KRG. The USCIRF reported in 2017 that under the KRG, Iraqi Kurdistan has provided “comparatively robust” religious freedoms compared to its regional neighbors (USCIRF, 2017, p. 3). The Kurdish draft constitution contains multiple provisions that would enshrine religious freedom as fundamental to the IRK and a future Kurdish state. In addition, the 2015 Minority Rights Law further enhances protections for religious minorities in Kurdistan (Smith & Shadarevian, 2016). The KRG has also taken steps to promote interfaith cooperation, recognize communities such as the Bahais and Zoroastrians, restore places of worship, and provide land and financial support for new construction and the renovation of existing structures for use as educational facilities (USSD, 2021).
Yet, tempering this otherwise optimistic assessment is research indicating troubling issues such as “systemic discrimination by elements within the authorities or wider society” (Smith & Shadarevian, 2016, p. 3). Some lingering issues include the unresolved status of some Christian properties (USCIRF, 2020, p. 73). And though religious minorities are represented in regional institutions, the IRK’s major political parties have sought to manipulate their participation to expand their own patronage networks (Abdullah & Hama, 2020).
Even so, it is the ongoing crisis of displacement that constitutes the most formidable challenge to the prospects for the survival of religious minorities and the future of religious pluralism in the IRK and the country at large. The IRK continues to host and support hundreds of thousands of people displaced by the Da’esh attacks and the subsequent military operations conducted to defeat them. The disproportionate number of internally displaced persons (IDPs) in the IRK are religious and ethnic minorities. As of August 2021, Christians and Yazidis together accounted for 43% of the more than 664,000 IDPs residing in the IRK (Joint Crisis Coordination Centre [JCCC], 2021).
IDPs in the IRK reside predominantly in out-of-camp urban settings; and the vast majority are experiencing protracted displacements. Iraq is marked by a displacement landscape has documented more prolonged displacement that threatens the preservation of these communities’ religious and cultural identity. A possible long-term solution for displaced people living in the IRK is the facilitation of a safe voluntary return to their areas of origin. However, many displaced members of these communities are unwilling or unable to return, and when they do, many returns are not durable. The barriers to safe, dignified, and sustainable return include a lack of essential services and/or livelihood opportunities. Fear of demographic change and the sense of marginalization are also determinative factors in deciding whether to return or remain displaced (Ezzedine & Pellise, 2021, p. 22; Johansen et al., 2020, p. 3). But for many of those displaced, the most critical barrier to return is the perception that it is safer to remain in displacement (IOM, 2019, pp. 17—18; REACH, 2020).
These fears and apprehensions have been magnified by the unresolved Baghdad-KRG competition over ethnically and religious mixed, resource-rich areas where violence plays a key role in reordering (Meier, 2020; O’Driscoll & Costantini, 2019). Ninewa—the top governorate for both displacement and return since the liberation of territory controlled by Da’esh (IOM, 2021d, p. 2)—is a prime focal point of such contestation, and it is the setting in which minority communities have been caught in a broader political struggle. Moreover, security threats and deep mistrust, including fraught relations with Peshmerga forces, have inhibited return (Hannah & Kruczek, 2020). So, too, have the dire conditions facing Christians and other non-Sunni Muslim minorities since the forced closure of IDP camps in federal Iraq (Ezzedine & Pellise, 2021).
There is little evidence to suggest that the stalemate between Baghdad and Erbil over the “disputed territories”—a major underlying cause of these conditions—will be broken anytime soon. As a result, displaced members of religious and ethnic minorities would seem to be facing the grim prospect of either assuming the risks of return or having to remain indefinitely in displacement. But is this a false choice? Could local integration in IRK could be a promising long-term solution to protracted displacement as well as a catalyst for ensuring the viability of religious minorities and of religious pluralism itself?
Local integration is the most common intention reported by IDPs in the IOM’s assessment of urban centers (IOM, 2021c, p. 15). Across the IRK urban landscape where IDPs reside, the displacement situation is stationary (i.e., very few have left their original location of displacement within the city), in part due to widespread security, freedom of movement, and good access to basic services (IOM, 2021b, p. 5). In some IRK urban settings, the area of origin and ethnoreligious affiliation of IDPs might conduce to local integration; for example, Dahuk, where nearly all IDPs originate from Ninewa Governorate and Christians, Yazidis, and Turkmen Sunnis have a historical presence within the city (IOM, 2021c, p. 21).
Local integration is the preference for many but not all non-Muslims displaced in Iraqi Kurdistan. Even if it were, the IRK’s absorption capacity is limited. Large numbers of IDPs mainly in and around urban areas that have strained local services and infrastructure and increased competition for jobs (UNHCR, 2019, p. 2). Furthermore, the task of fully incorporating non-Muslim components of Iraqi society into host communities while preserving their distinctive collective identity would require not just investment and development initiatives but measures aimed at overcoming the social fragmentation as well as the erosion of intra- and inter-communal trust and tolerance resulting from displacement (Khedir, 2020; Melcangi & Maggiolini, 2020; O’Mahony, 2004; van Zoonen & Wirya, 2017). Restoring such trust and tolerance is ultimately as important to ensuring social cohesion and sustainable, peaceful coexistence as rebuilding shattered edifices (Johansen et al., 2020, pp. 56—58).
Conclusion
Is it possible for different ethnic and religious groups to coexist as one nation? Are “clashes of civilizations” inevitable, or are there possibilities to achieve political stability even in pluralist societies? Does the existence of irreconcilable religious doctrines in a society exclude the possibility of shared values and moral consensus? These questions are in play as Iraq struggles to emerge from decades of violence and displacement. Ensuring the continued presence of religious minority communities is vital to preserving Iraq’s social diversity and nurturing a culture of pluralism. And finding durable solutions to the protracted displacement within Iraq of the already vastly diminished numbers of these communities can contribute to their survival. While local integration within the IRK is not a substitute for voluntary and sustainable return, it nonetheless represents an implicit affirmation of religious pluralism and offers a promising pathway forward for a society recovering from severe conflict.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
