A war is being waged along a 900-mile front between two entities that today constitute de facto quasi-states stretching across the old border between Syria and Iraq. These are the Islamic State to the south and a contiguous area of Kurdish-controlled territory to the north. Recently, I traveled to the latter, in regions of northern Iraq and northeast Syria, like the town of Derik, where I spoke with a Kurdish soldier who had recently been in a firefight with IS forces in the neighboring village of Jeza’a.
A Kurdish Peshmerga fighter on the front lines near Erbil, September 10
“We
were fighting for 17 hours,” said the Kurd. He was with the People’s
Protection Units (YPG), affiliated with the PYD, the Syrian branch of
the Kurdistan Worker’s party, or PKK. “There must have been about 500 of
them,” he said of the IS militants. “Only about 90 of us. They’re
strange, the way they keep on coming at you. We got on each side of
them. In the end, you should have seen the trucks that came to take the
bodies away. Stacked up.”
He paused and took a drag on his cigarette. “I wasn’t hurt
bad,” he continued. “I dislocated my shoulder when I had to jump over a
wall after one of them threw a grenade. Then they got me out of there. I
killed three of them. It’s not nice, you know. One of them was just a
kid of about 16. But you’ve got no choice.”
So what does an IS attack look like, I asked. Do they just come running headlong at you?
“They don’t run,” he replied, looking directly at me as if
to acknowledge the eeriness of the thing he was saying. “They walk,” he
said. “At a normal pace. Towards you. Like they’re not afraid. And you
have to shoot them before they shoot you.”
The fighting at Jeza’a was one of the most intense clashes
to have taken place between the Islamic State and the YPG. The battle
formed part of a broader IS-Kurdish war taking place along a contiguous
frontline stretching from Jalawla on the Iraq-Iran border all the way to
Jarabulus on the line separating Syria from Turkey.
At Jeza’a, the Islamic State was trying to close the
corridor that the YPG had opened in order to bring Yazidi refugees from
the Sinjar Mountains to safety at the Newroz refugee camp outside Derik.
The more than 100,000 refugees who made their way to Newroz are
exhausted and traumatized. The Islamic State considers the Yazidi to be
“devil worshippers” who are thus denied the few privileges afforded the
so-called people of the book, i.e., Christians and Jews. Yazidi women
were sent to the prisons of IS-controlled Mosul, where they were later
sold as slaves or forced to wed IS fighters.
Conditions at Newroz are primitive, but there is food and
shelter. Further east, in the Kurdish Regional Government area of
northern Iraq, the towns of Dohuk and Erbil are swollen with refugees
who fled Mosul and Sinjar. The Islamic State’s march toward the KRG
capital of Erbil was stopped only by the intervention of the United
States Air Force, and they know that any attempt to push forward would
result in their obliteration from the air. The KRG’s Peshmerga forces
are facing them in hastily assembled positions cut into the dirt. These
frontlines are for the moment strangely silent.
In Erbil and in Dohuk, the half-built structures that
until very recently were symbols of economic growth and expansion have
been converted into makeshift homes for refugee families from further
south. You see refugees everywhere. In the evenings the cities have a
teeming, crowded feel to them. But the foreigners who came with the oil
companies that moved in to do business when the KRG was the most stable
part of Iraq are mostly gone. The bars and restaurants that opened up to
cater to them are empty. On a Thursday evening in the Deutscher Hof
restaurant in Erbil, one of the few places that serves cold beer, only a
couple of British security contractors are at the bar. The Indian staff
tell me that a month ago, the place would have been packed at this
time.
A considerable portion of Erbil’s Kurdish population also
left when it looked likely that the Islamic State was on its way. Some
sources spoke of a departure of up to 30 percent of Erbil’s residents.
The Peshmerga, with the help of Iraqi special forces as well as U.S. air
support, have begun to push back against IS. The Mosul Dam, a highly
symbolic conquest for the IS, was retaken on August 21. Since then, IS
has lost ground in a number of other places. The Peshmerga are now in
the process of reconquering oil fields close to Mosul.
West of the Syria-Iraq border, meanwhile, the YPG is
continuing its own fight against the Islamic State. I visited the
frontline area at the Yarubiya border crossing. The YPG seized the
crossing in early August, and now controls both the Iraqi and Syrian
sides of it. IS still holds a neighborhood immediately adjoining the
crossing. Sniping from both sides and mortar fire are regular
occurrences. But the morale of the YPG seemed high. “They can’t shoot,” a
female fighter told me cheerfully after we sprinted across open ground
to a concealed position a few hundred yards from a mosque where the IS
sniper was operating.
Conversations with Kurdish officials indicate that they do
not consider the fight with IS in Iraq and Syria to be a battle for the
preservation of those two states. Rather, the Kurdish national agenda
is visible just barely below the surface. General Maghdid Haraki of the
Peshmerga, an effective-looking figure clearly influenced by American
military style, put it most bluntly when he told me, “We have a
different land, different language, different mentality. I don’t know
why the world won’t see this. They just see ‘Iraq.’ ”
A senior KRG official linked to the political leadership
was more circumspect. “Iraqi Kurds are today still part of Iraq,” he
said. “But if a sectarian civil war starts in Iraq, we want no part of
it. And if the mess continues in Iraq and Kurdish rights are not
granted, then what is the point of it? Anyway, Kurds, like any other
nation, have the right to determine their own future.”
Nonetheless, the fact is that the Kurds are not unified
and their divisions are not easily resolved. The central rift is between
the two rival pan-Kurdish movements. One is Massoud Barzani’s Kurdistan
Democratic party, which controls the KRG. The other is Abdullah
Ocalan’s PKK, listed by the U.S. State Department as a terrorist
organization for its three-decade-long campaign of violence against
Turkey.
Still, when it comes to Kurdish self-determination,
PKK-associated officials sound similar to General Haraki and his
colleagues. Nilufer Koc, of the PKK-associated Kurdistan National
Congress, told me in Erbil that “what’s needed is a referendum on
independence here in Iraqi Kurdistan. And when we clear the issue of the
referendum, if a new Iraqi government continues to reject Kurdish
rights, then the Kurds need to take what belongs to them.”