Once Iraq’s crown jewel, Basra reels from neglect
WITH SECURITY FORCES BUSY IN OTHER VOLATILE AREAS IN IRAQ TRIBES ARE INVOLVED IN THRIVING DRUG TRADE
The freshwater canals that once honeycombed the city earned it the name of the Venice of the East. Elegant walkways flanked the Shatt Al Arab, the river cutting through the city. Legend has it that Sinbad the Sailor embarked on a journey from Basra’s shores.
Given its rich history and location, Basra should be booming today. It’s a metropolis of more than 2 million, home to Iraq’s only port and its main gateway to Iran.
It’s the capital of the eponymous province that, with more than 200 billion barrels of estimated reserves, provides a staggering 80 per cent of Iraq’s oil riches.
But the canals, what’s left of them, now are lined with trash and exude a miasma tinged with the odour of sewage.
A stroll along the banks of the Shatt Al Arab offers little more than glimpses of crumbling walkways and the rotting hulks of ships long abandoned. And though multinational energy companies have swarmed here for decades, unemployment is severe.
Though it was left unscathed in the brutal four-year war against Daesh, Basra is where the scars of Iraq’s troubles are most apparent: the perennial weakness of the state, tribes operating under their own laws, deep-rooted corruption fuelled by oil greed and — now — a thriving drug trade.
With Iraqis’ dissatisfaction with the government at an alltime high, it is places like Basra that will test whether Iraq can return to the world stage as a functioning nation, or revert to the toxic mix of sectarianism and corruption that spurred the militants’ rise in the first place.
Daesh launched its blitzkrieg across Iraq’s northern regions in 2014. Though the militants never reached Basra, their effect was immediate.
“Troops were needed to go up north to deal with Daesh and you saw a degradation of the security institution in Basra,” Ben Lando, head of the business publication Iraq Oil
Report, said.
Warring tribes
The province’s constantly warring tribes had engaged in oil smuggling during the days of Saddam.
Though there was less smuggling, tribesmen were often tasked by oil companies to protect pipelines running through areas they considered their own.
Now the tribesmen, often heavily armed, fight among each other, said Yarub Mahmoudiyah, head of a committee for resolution of tribal conflicts in Basra, to net the “fantastical sums” paid by oil companies to drill in the area.
“Say a company wants to invest in a certain area. It’s been long abandoned, but then two tribes claim ownership of it in the last 20 or 50 years,” Mahmoudiyah said.
Meanwhile, the demands of the war against Daesh, along with the fall in oil prices, meant that Basra, whose oilfields produce some 3.7 million barrels per day, was getting no money from a cash-strapped federal government.
“We were supposed to receive $5 (Dh18) for every barrel of crude oil, $5 for every barrel of refined oil, and $5 for every 150 cubic metres of gas. We’re also supposed to get half of the border fees from ports and land crossings,” said Ali Shaddad, the head of the provincial council’s oil and gas committee.
“Since mid-2015, we haven’t received any money from our petro dollars. The government refuses to pay, telling us it has no money to give.”
Shaddad said the municipality is often unable to pay its employees, and some 700 projects, including the building of schools and hospitals have been postponed.
Farmlands devastated
And with the government laser-focused on developing oil and gas, the province’s famous verdant farmlands have been devastated.
Much of the water in Basra has turned brackish, a result of years of poor water management, excessive use of upstream excavation and dredging that allowed saltwater from the Arabian Gulf to invade the Shatt Al Arab.
“What good did it do for us, having this oil and the port? Can you wash with fresh water here? No way, it’s always salty,” shouted Umm Ammar, a 32year old saleswoman at a clothing store in the Ashar market.
“Our river got destroyed. There’s no more fish there.”
She also spoke of garbage that stays uncollected for days, and of streets that remain unpaved.
As she began to rail against the frequent electricity shortages endured by residents, the neon lights in her shop turned off and generators whined as they kicked in; yet another power outage had begun.
It’s not unusual for summer temperatures to hit 122 degrees.
Despite these drawbacks, some 40,000 Iraqis from other provinces have flocked to the city in recent years, said Saaedi.
They join hundreds of thousands of Basrawis in a desperate search for employment in the oil sector, which, despite accounting for 65 per cent of Iraq’s gross domestic product, only employs one per cent of the nation’s labour force, according to the UN.
Few residents work in their actual area of education or training. The luckier ones often have to pay bribes to land blue-collar jobs as cleaners or drivers.
Most, however, are unemployed,
living in ravaged neighbourhoods or shantytowns with little to do. They are easy prey for Basra’s newest threat: crystal meth.
It’s big business. A gram of crystal meth can sell for roughly $70 here.
In the past, Basra had been a conduit for the drug, transferring it from Iran to Gulf countries. Now much of the drug stays in Basra.
“Weekly we catch something on the crossing with Iran, people smuggling drugs in shoes,
clothes or even underwear,” Saaedi said.
Drug trade
Others, speaking on condition of anonymity for safety concerns, said the drug trade involved Shiite militias, tribesmen and prominent officials colluding with drug rings. Worse still, said Mahmoudiyah, the tribal arbitrator, now Basra itself had become an exporter.
“You have factories here producing this drug,” he said.
Its effects have been devastating: No fewer than 1,700 men are in prison on drug charges, flooding a prison system ill-equipped to deal with addicts. “The user is not a criminal, they’re a victim. But the law treats them like a criminal, and puts them in the same place as a murderer,” Shaddad said.
“Many of them enter as users and leave as dealers.” He and the other officials interviewed insisted there was a need for rehabilitation centres.
Since mid-2015, we haven’t received any money from our petro dollars. The government refuses to pay, telling us it has no money to give.” Ali Shaddad | Head of the provincial council’s oil and gas committee