Inside Iraq's Popular Mobilization Units
To many observers, the Hashd al-Shaabi were the militia that spelled the end of Iraq, as much as the emergence of ISIS signalled endless chaos. The popular narrative goes like this: the paramilitary organization formed in the wake of a call by Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani in June 2014 for Iraqis to take up arms against the ISIS onslaught.
But instead of saving Iraq, Iranian-backed groups used the call to multiply in strength. As the Iraqi army continued to stumble from defeat to defeat, the Hashd surged into Sunni majority areas, sparking a sectarian bloodbath.
The former allies of the United States, tribal sheikhs who formed the backbone of the Anbar Awakening, were then trapped between ISIS and the Hashd, while Abadi’s embattled government was subsumed by Iran.
While dramatic, in many ways this story is an oversimplification. To begin with, the Hashd, or Popular Mobilization Units (PMU), comprise about forty groups with slightly differing agendas. This open-tent diversity has given the Hashd raw strength in numbers. But as Moqtada al-Sadr’s Hashd look set to clash with Iran-backed groups, it could become an Achilles’ heel.
At the end of April, I traveled to Iraq for the third time in over a year to work on an independent documentary about life in Iraq. My hosts were Ataba, an organization that runs Iraq’s holy shrines. They wanted to show me a side of the war that was more nuanced than commonly portrayed.
In fact, I had just written a long essay on Sunni tribes in Iraq from 1979 to the present day, and was contemplating Iraq’s tangled history. The salience of sectarianism ebbs and flows in Iraq, and it is not the dominant narrative now as it was in 2006. To take just one example from history, the 1995 Ramadi uprising of Sunni tribes against the regime is an important but mostly forgotten episode. Similarly, the tensions between the Jabour tribe and Saddam in the early nineties illustrate the complex and shifting alliances of Iraqi politics. These episodes reverberate today in what amounts to civil wars within Sunni tribes, one reason why America cannot simply revive the Anbar Awakening.
Nonetheless, you cannot interview people from military organizations during a war and expect that their answers will be free of bias or attempts to shape the media narrative. Despite this, it was clear from my interviews with the Hashd that testimonies had not been prepared prior to interview, although as expected, many were laced with misty-eyed patriotism.
For example, interview testimonies correlated with the political and geographic background of those speaking: a Sunni from the Albu Mahal tribe explained that the Karbuli tribe were “with Daesh” (the two tribes had a long running feud after 2003) and the commander of the Iran-backed Saraya al-Khorasani explained his conviction that the United States was fully supporting Daesh.
Interviews with Sunni members of the Hashd were retranslated in London by a Sunni journalist from Diyala, who further verified that interviews appeared unforced. Particularly interesting was a visit to the Christian Hashd, the Lions of Babylon Brigade, based in Baghdad. Their spokesman asserted in an almost Churchill-like way how his men fought a noble battle for Iraqi civilization and heritage, as well as all civilization. PR-savvy answers, certainly, but remembering the massacre of Iraqi Christians by Al Qaeda in 2010 at a nearby church, how could I disagree?
Speaking to fourteen members of the Hashd from four different units, I came home with some tentative conclusions. ISIS brutality has created cross-sectarian alliances that will be hard to reverse. Just as the brutality of Al Qaeda forced Sunni sheikhs to reach out to U.S. units, ISIS has made an even bigger blunder by forcing many sheikhs to align themselves with Hashd units. Baghdadi may have (emphasis on “may”) created a pan-sectarian alliance that is the polar opposite of Zarqawi’s aim to divide Sunnis and Shia in an endless war of chaos. But real credit goes to Grand Ayatollah Sistani, who has repeatedly called for pan-sectarian cooperation.
In the spring of 2015, Hawija mayor Sabhan Khalef Ali al-Juburi put it this way:
“One day Iran was our enemy, but now Iran is helping us fight our enemy.”
Remember, this is the mayor of Hawija, a town where Iraqi soldiers shot dead Sunni protesters in 2012. The time Sabhan refers to when Iran was “our enemy” was the Iran-Iraq war, when at least fifty thousand Juburis fought the Ayatollah’s men.
It is incredible therefore, that the PMU has become more inclusive as ISIS have been rolled back. As early as September 2014, the first Sunni tribal fighters from the Jabour reached out to members of Asaib Ahl al-Haq in the small village of Dhuluiya. As noted, the Jabour had a long and complex relationship with both Saddam and post-2003 governments.
But their choice of AAH as an ally seemed odd, given the group’s controversial reputation—an indication of how quickly things were changing. Before long, Iraqi social media was awash with two incredible stories. A Sunni sheikh’s daughter, Umayyah Jabara, was killed in a firefight with ISIS in the bloody summer of 2014, and Um Qusay, another Sunni woman from Salahaddin, sheltered twenty-five Shia cadets who managed to escape the Speicher massacre. For some, these women have become symbols of national unity.