ERBIL, Iraq — Northern Iraq is a different world from what you would think. It is a safe haven on top of a bloodbath.
For the better part of the last 15 years, I have researched common denominators. Kurdistan will likely be the last chapter in a book that explores commonalities where genocide has occurred, regardless of whether or not the international community has had the courage of conviction to call it what it is.
Kurdistan leaves an impression unique to its peers in this unfortunate grouping, be it Rwanda, Cambodia or the Balkans.
Erbil is the de facto capitol of a de facto country. It is still, and may remain, officially Iraq. The largest displaced ethnic population in the world took the initiative during the melee created by an insensible American intervention, dug their heels in and created a home base. It is the only success story, indirectly instigated by America’s intervention in the region. It could be recognized for that, if nothing else.
Just 25 or so miles from where I sit is territory held by the Islamic State. Yet here in Erbil, it’s safe — arguably safer and freer than most places on Earth. It certainly feels safer than lower downtown Denver on a late Saturday evening. Why? Because these people have been through it all, up to and including genocide. And when a population has seen such, all the petty nonsense typical of most societies and cities seems to vanish. But that’s not always the case to the degree apparent in Northern Iraq.
Kurdish Peshmerga troops are currently doing the world’s dirty work, putting the hurt on the Islamic State, what we now are calling Daesh. And a great deal of the faces that Daesh fears are the female Peshmerga that fight side by side with their male counterparts. It is a testament to equality in a region hardly known for it.
Kurdistan is the most promising, egalitarian and welcoming place I’ve experienced. I noticed the Logos channel on their cable, while 30 miles away Daesh is throwing gay people off of buildings. As a result, Daesh has our attention, while Kurdistan goes unnoticed.
No one comes here, short of a few United Nations types or business people looking to invest in this wide-open economy. Several Kurds were perplexed that I choose to spend my time and money here. Several told me they had yet to meet anyone who comes to Kurdistan just to come to Kurdistan.
If there is a yin and yang in Islam today, it is Kurdistan and the Islamic State that it shares a border with. If there is a question regarding Islam’s compatibility with a globalized world, then Kurdistan is proof that not only is it compatible, but it is also an example for less progressive yet unflinchingly ethnocentric electorates across the West.
There is a fear voiced by Western thinkers that Islam is incompatible with modernity. That is the case, in regard to Daesh. But the Islam practiced by most is not incompatible; in fact, its the opposite, offering ethical inspiration to billions. The Islam of most, certainly the Islam of Erbil, is an overwhelmingly positive force for both adherents and their multicultural neighbors worldwide.
I truly adore everything I have seen, everyone I have met, and the security I have felt since arriving.
So the Kurds remain in large part on their own, as they have since the beginning of recorded history. They deserve recognition, but don’t ask for it. They are just happy to be on land they call their own. To compromise that would be the shame of the civilized world. They deserve foreign investment and support, but they certainly don’t have their hands out. They deserve more.
Certainly this is not the place for an in-depth history of the Kurdish struggle, the state of Islam or its viability in today’s globalized, geopolitical landscape. I wrote this as a debt to the people I met, the society I witnessed.
For now, they are a better manifestation of the American ideal than America seems to be, if campaign rhetoric is any bellwether. Please look further at what the Kurds have accomplished and represent thus far, which may answer many of the questions you have in this highly charged, reactionary time.
Richard S. Kaplan lives with his wife and daughter in Bellvue.
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