Iraq: Najaf's quietism vs ISIS's theocracy

Episode Narrative

In the heart of Southern Iraq, beneath the shadow of history's grand narratives, lies Najaf — a city steeped in the profundity of religious significance. It is a place where the essence of Shi’a Islam has been nurtured for centuries, illuminated by the teachings of revered scholars. Between 1991 and 2003, the landscape of Iraq was marred by the oppressive regime of Saddam Hussein and his Ba’athist party. Religious freedoms were severely curtailed, particularly for the Shi’a community that found their expressions of faith violently suppressed. This dark period became a crucible for change, setting the stage for a revival that would burst forth in the years to follow. Here, the figure of Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani emerged as a pivotal force, guiding the Shi’a clerical establishment through a tradition of “quietism.” He avoided direct political engagement, advocating instead for a spiritual authority that would resist the oppression of the state while remaining detached from the treacherous waters of political power.

Quietism is more than mere withdrawal; it is the art of resilience, a calm amid the storm, where the faithful sought solace in the teachings of their faith, remaining a bulwark against totalitarianism. Pilgrimages to revered sites like Najaf and Karbala continued, albeit under the shadow of fear and potential violence. The people clung to their beliefs as an unbreakable bond, a thread connecting them to their ancestors, to their history, and to their hope. This continuous act of faith in the face of repression formed an undercurrent, a deep-rooted tendency that would nourish the revival awaiting just over the horizon.

Then came 2003, a watershed moment when the U.S.-led invasion toppled Saddam's regime. What seemed to many as liberation, however, unleashed a torrent of chaos. Overnight, the socio-political landscape of Iraq transformed, but the stability hoped for quickly morphed into a struggle for power. Within this maelstrom, the Shi’a community found itself awakening from its long slumber. The period from 2003 to 2008 saw figures like Moqtada al-Sadr rise to prominence, creating the Mahdi Army, a militia that blended religious authority with paramilitary power. His emergence was more than just a response to a power vacuum; it signified the unmistakable mobilization of the Shi’a populace, fueled by years of repression and the desire for recognition.

Yet not all were aligned; a rift bloomed within the fabric of Iraq's complex identity. The rise of al-Qaeda in Iraq, particularly after the bombing of the Al-Askari Shrine in Samarra in February 2006, ignited a devastating sectarian civil war. This attack, targeting one of Shi’a Islam's holiest sites, became an emblematic act, a symbolic unleashing of communal fury that would claim the lives of tens of thousands and displace millions. Religious symbolism, once a source of solace, became a weapon, used ruthlessly to incite violence and deepen divisions. The flames of sectarian strife consumed both Shi’a and Sunni, unraveling the nation’s social fabric in a brutal contest of faiths and identities.

As chaos reigned, the Sunni “Awakening” movement emerged in 2006, defying al-Qaeda’s extreme interpretations of Islam and gaining traction among local tribes in Anbar province. Many joined together, motivated by revulsion at the violence and extremism that intruded upon their lives. This significant shift marked a turning point in the conflict, playing a crucial role in combating the insurgent infliction of terror, contributing to a noticeable reduction in violence by 2008.

However, the shadows cast by conflict soon morphed when the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria, or ISIS, exploited the chaos following the withdrawal of U.S. troops in 2011. The ensuing Syrian civil war created a vacuum that ISIS moved swiftly to fill, announcing its brutal caliphate in 2014. In a strident display of power, ISIS captured Mosul and large swaths of northern Iraq, systematically targeting religious minorities. The horror of this era unfolded as they enslaved Yazidi women and girls, cloaking this monstrosity in the guise of ancient Islamic law. These acts drew global condemnation, highlighting the grotesque extremes that religion can be twisted to justify.

From 2014 until 2017, the world bore witness to ISIS's campaign: public executions, mutilations, and the deliberate destruction of Sufi and Shi’a shrines marked their notorious reign. They established religious courts designed to enforce a version of sharia that shattered lives and silenced dissent. Compelled to self-document their barbarity, ISIS disseminated videos that horrified viewers worldwide, showcasing the depths to which humanity could sink.

Against this backdrop of despair, a candle flickered. The Arbaeen pilgrimage, mourning Imam Hussein’s martyrdom, transformed into an emblem of Shi’a resilience, drawing millions despite the very real threats posed by ISIS. Participation surged from two to three million in the early 2000s to over twenty million by 2017. This unparalleled gathering was not merely a show of numbers; it became a testament to the enduring spirit of a community that refused to succumb to fear, a collective memory of suffering and sacrifice that brought them together year after year.

The fight against ISIS culminated in the liberation of Mosul in 2016. Iraqi forces, backed by Shi’a militias known as Popular Mobilization Units and coalition airstrikes, engaged in fierce battles that highlighted the intertwining of faith and warfare. Divinely sanctioned, both sides invoked religious rhetoric to validate their causes. Ultimately, by 2017, the territorial ambitions of ISIS were largely dismantled, but not without irrevocable scars left in their wake. Sectarian polarization deepened, heritage sites lay in ruins, and over three million Iraqis found themselves displaced because of the violence.

Amid this political and social upheaval, Grand Ayatollah Sistani continued to express a vision for a unified Iraq, urging non-sectarian governance in stark contrast to the hateful exclusivity championed by ISIS. His fatwas, calls for unity, and community outreach became a beacon of hope — not just for Shi’a but for all Iraqis yearning for peace. As reconstruction efforts began to restore devastated shrines like the Al-Askari Mosque in Samarra and the Imam Ali Shrine in Najaf, these sites transformed into symbols of both physical and spiritual reclamation.

Between 2019 and 2020, a new generation arose, fueled by a desire to challenge the political elite and the clerical authorities that had governed them. Nationwide protests sparked a confrontation of old ideas versus new demands for accountability and transparency. Yet, just as a new dawn appeared to be on the horizon, the COVID-19 pandemic struck, compelling religious leaders to confront unfamiliar battles. For the first time, they embraced scientific guidance, a rare alignment of faith with public health, temporarily halting mass gatherings like Arbaeen but also sparking debates about the intersection of faith and modernity.

As the years rolled on, sectarian tensions maintained an unsettling presence, periodic violence against Shi’a pilgrims and religious minorities serving as grim reminders that the work was far from complete. Nevertheless, the overall scale of large-scale violence remained significantly diminished compared to the darkest days of the civil war and the ISIS caliphate. The societal fabric was frayed but not irreparable.

By 2023, the visible scars of sectarian violence lingered, with over 1.2 million internally displaced persons left longing for home, many belonging to religious minority communities targeted during the reign of terror. This grim reality underscored the enduring legacy of conflict and the urgent need for reconciliation.

In the grand tapestry of Iraq’s turbulent history, religion continues to wield profound influence over politics and personal identity. Confessional democracy — where power is shared along religious lines — often entrenched divisions instead of fostering genuine pluralism. The complexity of Iraqi politics is encapsulated in the struggle of its people: the tension between oppressive violence and the yearning for peace, the dance between the destructive ideology of extremists and the unwavering resolve of inclusive leaders who strive to shepherd their communities toward a more harmonious existence.

As we look toward 2025 and beyond, the lessons of Iraq resonate with chilling clarity. The region remains one where faith intertwines deeply with the currents of politics, where the choices between tolerance and exclusion reverberate through generations. What will it take for true healing to take root in a land still grappling with its past? Can genuine coexistence rise from the ashes, or will the cycle of conflict persist, binding the future in a pattern of despair? With each passing year, the answer to these questions becomes more complex and urgent, as Iraq stands at the precipice of a pivotal journey — one that requires the courage to embrace a shared identity amidst a landscape fraught with challenge.