Baghdad’s decline two decades after the war: A mirror for Tehran

“Cairo writes, Beirut publishes, and Baghdad reads,” goes a well-known Arab proverb about the cultural roles these capitals played in the past. A faded grandeur that transformed mid-19th-century Baghdad into one of the intellectual beacons of the Middle East. The Iraqi capital’s prestigious book market now sprawls across the Al Mutanabbi district, named after one of the greatest Arab poets. Turning its back on the Tigris, it opens onto a promenade lined with street booksellers, cafes frequented by artists and intellectuals, street portraitists, and benches where locals sit and read in the sun. Just a 200-meter walk leads to the iconic Shabandar Cafe, bringing one back to reality.

“This is where the car bomb exploded, killing 80 people and injuring dozens,” says Omar al Jushali, pointing to the street. He owns the café, which is adorned with framed photos of his four brothers and a nephew killed in the suicide bombing claimed by Al Qaeda in 2007. Inside, several customers smoke shisha and sip lemon tea, while an elegant couple chats animatedly.

More than two decades after the U.S. invasion of Iraq, which left tens of thousands dead, sparked a civil war and fueled the rise of the jihadist group Islamic State (ISIS), the country’s capital, with its eight million inhabitants, is still trying to recover from the devastation. Many now see this decline as a mirror reflecting the fate of Tehran, the capital of Iran, following another offensive launched in the region by the U.S. and Israel, should the current fragile two-week ceasefire collapse.

Since 2003, the Iraqi economy has danced to the rhythm of war and oil prices. Before that, it danced to the rhythm of U.S. and United Nations sanctions. The U.S. invasion plunged GDP by nearly 40%, to around €17 billion, following the collapse of the state and the paralysis of economic activity, according to World Bank data. Since then, with between 90% and 95% of state revenue dependent on oil, the country has lived at the mercy of oil prices and conflicts such as the civil war of 2006-2008 and the fight against the Islamic State between 2014 and 2017, which devastated key infrastructure.

The 2022 energy crisis, triggered by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, once again filled the state coffers, ushering in years of social optimism and reconstruction that the war in Iran threatens to derail once more. Despite the economic upturn, two decades after the invasion, Iraq has still not diversified its economy or rebuilt basic services: public sector employment accounts for nearly 42% of the total labor market, and the country remains a fragile petrostate, as demonstrated by the impact of the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, which this month has plunged state revenues by 70%.

Not a single foreigner is to be seen at Café Shabandar, which was founded in 1904 and just a month ago was a favorite tourist destination. Its walls are adorned with photos of foreign dignitaries, intellectuals, politicians, and Arab poets.

Not far from there stands the Sarai of Baghdad, a palace that once served as the seat of the Ottoman governor of the province. The Tigris River meanders through the country, dividing the capital in two: Rusafa in the east and Karj in the west. Ancient Baghdad exudes history from every pore of its roundabouts, squares, and vestiges of the various civilizations that have inhabited it, including the scars of devastation left by a string of wars and invasions, from the Mongol invasion of 1258 to the American invasion of 2003.

Part of this history is on display at the National Museum of Iraq, which was directed by the British archaeologist and spy Gertrude Margaret Lowthian Bell. Miss Bell was a key figure in shaping the Iraqi state after World War I and establishing the Hashemite dynasty under King Faisal I, with British rule in place. The monarch oversaw the funeral of his friend, who committed suicide in her Baghdad home on July 12, 1926, with a barbiturate overdose. “Hardly anyone comes,” says Jaula Ali, whose family has been caring for Bell’s modest grave and the others in the British Cemetery in Baghdad for four generations.

Among the historic squares, Tahrir Square (meaning “liberation” in Arabic) stands out as a symbol of independence from British rule in 1932. Iraqis have subsequently demonstrated there against Saddam Hussein, against the government in 2019 due to corruption and unemployment, and this past Saturday against the war in Iran. Today, it is plastered with the faces of the leaders of the militias of the so-called axis of resistance who were assassinated in Iran, Lebanon, and Iraq.

Power outages in a country rich in crude oil

Daily power outages plague the metropolis of a country that possesses the world’s fifth-largest oil reserves. The historic storm that engulfed the city in late March, flooding its streets, once again highlighted the decay of infrastructure that was once the envy of the region. The U.S. invasion (2003-2011), under the pretext of weapons of mass destruction that never existed, plunged the country back decades. That same year, the National Museum was also looted.

The years of fighting the Islamic State (ISIS, between 2014 and 2017) constitute another burden of that invasion against which the terrorist group emerged, also leaving its mark of destruction. The city was scarred by suicide attacks and, once again, reconstruction plans were postponed.

In the bustling cafes, customers say that in the last four years the country was finally starting to take off, with the reconstruction of bridges and roads and the opening of new businesses. The new Central Bank of Iraq building, designed by renowned Iraqi architect Zaha Hadid, rises on the horizon as a symbol of a country’s ambitions to reclaim its past grandeur. Or consider the new and lavish Iraq Mall, inaugurated just ten days before the Israeli-American offensive against Iran; the largest in the country, with more than 500 clothing stores and 150 restaurants.

The uncertainty generated by the war with neighboring Iran now threatens to derail this period of prosperity. Iraqis are tightening their belts for fear that the state will be unable to continue paying public sector salaries, given the drop of more than two-thirds in oil revenues in March due to the closure of the Strait of Hormuz, in state coffers that depend on crude oil exports for 90% of their income.

The city’s existing scars are now compounded by crossfire of missile and drone attacks, such as the one that struck the Iraqi intelligence headquarters in the Al Mansur neighborhood in March, just meters from the Spanish embassy, ​​killing an officer. Germany has closed its embassy, located next door to the Spanish one, and others, such as the American embassy, ​​which has been targeted by attacks from pro-Iranian Iraqi militias in the capital, are sheltering in the so-called “Green Zone” behind concrete blocks and razor wire, in a part of the city center inaccessible to ordinary Iraqis.

Beyond the damage to heritage sites and the decline of infrastructure, Iraqis fear that their government’s position—condemning “the aggression against the sovereignty of neighboring Iran” and straining relations with Washington—will return them to the era of international sanctions, which plunged the population into abject poverty and emptied the country of doctors, intellectuals, and engineers. “I come from a middle-class family, but when I was a teenager, my parents couldn’t even buy me new shoes because of the sanctions,” says a 46-year-old Iraqi writer in the Karrada neighborhood, speaking anonymously.

Half a million children died in Iraq in the 1990s due to the consequences of imposed economic restrictions, according to a UN report. The declared intentions of the Trump and Netanyahu administrations to end Iran’s “highly advanced nuclear program,” force “regime change,” and encourage an uprising by the internal population through harsh economic sanctions—along with calls for a ground invasion of the Islamic Republic and the distribution of weapons to the domestic opposition—are echoing like a déjà vu in the Iraqi capital. There, fears are growing that neighboring Tehran, with its modern infrastructure and ancient heritage, could be devastated and set back decades, following in Baghdad’s footsteps.

Sign up for our weekly newsletter to get more English-language news coverage from EL PAÍS USA Edition