One Iraqi village’s antidote to turmoil: Ban political and religious debate

By Loveday Morris

Washington post, June 16, 2015 at 10:30 a.m. EDT

  ALBUNAHIDH, Iraq — This country is engulfed in a war against Islamic State militants and is plagued by sectarian division. But one village says it has found a way to insulate itself from Iraq's turmoil.

It has banned political debate.

On a narrow road running beside a sunflower field, a sign welcomes visitors and lays out the rules of Albunahidh, a placid hamlet on the banks of the Euphrates River about 100 miles south of Baghdad.

No political or religious debate. No smoking, honking car horns or cutting down trees.

The rules are striking in a country where talking politics through thick clouds of tobacco smoke could be considered a national pastime. Iraqi men while away hours in coffee shops and traditional meeting halls beside brimming ashtrays or bubbling water pipes debating the latest conspiracy theories and political maneuverings.

But residents say the code of conduct is designed to protect the health of the families that live here and the unity of the community of about 500 people in a time of war.


“Everybody’s affected by what’s happening in the country,” said Kadim Hassoon, 44, an engineer who lobbied for the rules. “We know the situation in Iraq, the war, the politics — what’s the benefit in talking about it? If you sit here and try and push your ideas, there’s tension.”

Iraqi leader decries ‘failure’ of world to confront Islamic State gains

Under Saddam Hussein, political opposition was fiercely suppressed, and the fear of government informants stifled conversation about politics. But since Hussein was toppled in the 2003 U.S.-led invasion of Iraq, political debate has flourished, with scores of parties springing up, representing the nation’s diverse religious and ethnic groups.

While the southern provinces have not been touched by the battles ravaging areas in the north and west, the war is still a major topic in these Shiite heartlands. This town's young men have gone to fight in the army and in a growing array of Shiite militias, giving the conflict more immediacy. Meanwhile, the Shiite south watched closely last August as then-Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki, who had a healthy following in villages like this, was forced out and replaced by Haider al-Abadi, also a Shiite. All of it is fodder for debate.

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“I’d say: What’s the point?” Hassoon said. “Religious parties are always trying to push people. Religious debate is a dangerous matter.”

From across the village’s central mudhif, a gathering space made of woven river reeds, Abdullah Kadhim Saghban, a wizened 74-year-old, agreed.

“After 2003, we received democracy, we talked, but there were so many parties it caused division,” he said.

Shiites are unified in their opposition to the Islamic State, which is made up of extremist Sunnis. But these are sensitive times, Saghban pointed out, reclining against traditional embroidered cushions laid out along the sides of the meeting hall.

“We should avoid talking about things that might divide us, and stay united,” he said. “How did the enemy enter our cities? Because [the cities] were divided; they had differences.”


He is quick to point out that although religious debate is discouraged, the rules are not against religion.

“Religion is like the sea. It’s so deep, we shouldn’t try to fully understand it,” he said. The details, he added, should be left to clerics.

Although the rules came into force only a few months ago, smoking has long been frowned upon in this sleepy outpost, the legacy of Hassoon’s father, a village elder who strongly discouraged it for health reasons. When the younger Hassoon returned to the village two years ago after working in the Persian Gulf, he pressed for the rules, with other “healthy” additions.

Encouragement, not force

Hassoon said he also has begun to instill a culture of jogging and cycling — although it was “not an easy matter.”


“It used to be that if people saw someone running on the street, it was considered something strange, abnormal,” he said. “Now we’ve broken the barrier.” Bicycles are lined up outside the village hall.

The village has held a fun run, and to mark “environment day” earlier this year, it held a 13-mile cycling event. Hassoon also arranged for 300 trees to be planted. Under the town’s palms, villagers have begun beekeeping, and a mobile library is planned.

Sodas, which are ubiquitous in sugar-loving Iraq, are banned for children. Abbas Karim.


End

Iraq village takes radical stand against national woes

By Jean Marc Mojon

France Press AFP, Jun 18,2015

 Albu Nahadh (Iraq) (AFP) - Smoking, horn honking and political debating -- these may sound like a few of Iraq's favourite things, but one village has banned them all to beat the national doom and gloom.


"Smoking just isn't good for you," said Kadhim Hassoon, standing proudly by a red-and-white crossed out cigarette sign marking the entrance of Albu Nahadh, a hamlet nestled along a river bank in the fertile heart of Iraq's south.


The ban is a bold step in a country where smoking in hospitals and lifts or at petrol stations is not uncommon.


Tobacco is also banned in areas held by the Islamic State group, but that is really all Albu Nahadh has in common with the self-proclaimed caliphate that has brought Iraq to the brink of break-up.


"Religion has altered everything in this country. This is why one of our rules is no religious talk. Religion should be in your heart, something between you and God," said Hassoon, the driving force behind the Albu Nahadh utopia.


Iraq has been plagued by deadly sectarian violence for years and while the southern provinces have been largely spared jihadist attacks, thousands of its sons have gone to the front lines and never returned.


 Iraqi residents of the southern Iraqi village of Albu Nahedh, in the al-Saniya area in Iraq's so …

Farhan Hussein Ali, a medical doctor and professor, said it was Hassoon's father, Albu Nahadh's founding figure, who first saw the need for village ground rules decades ago.

"Under Saddam people kept quiet, but after his fall (in 2003), everyone began talking about politics again," Ali said, sitting cross-legged on a red cushion in the village meeting hall.

"He did not want any arguments and introduced the ban... to keep peace in our community," he said.


- 'Piece of Europe' -

The list of don'ts also includes selling soft drinks to children and using car horns, although no penalty is incurred for violating any of the rules.

 

An Iraqi man walks near a sign bearing rules written in Arabic including the banning of smoking and  …

The 46-year-old Hassoon is keen to portray his community project more as an attempt to become a modern ecovillage following global good practices than a closed mini-republic with quirky bylaws.

"I want this street to look like a piece of Europe," he said.

"On June 5, we planted 300 trees," he said, showing the row of young palm trees lining the main road.

"How many other places in Iraq marked World Environment Day 2015?" he asked, referring to the annual UN event.

"It was a success. It may seem like nothing, but I can be from a small village and be part of the world. Let nobody tell me that my village cannot make a difference."

 

Iraqi residents of the southern Iraqi village of Albu Nahedh, in the al-Saniya area in Iraq's so …

It already has for Mustafa Jaber, a 28-year-old athlete and coach who found his life purpose when Hassoon made physical exercise a local obsession.

"Jogging is not in the culture. When I go on my daily run, people who don't know me still stop their cars to offer me a ride," said Hassoon.

Jaber also thought it a strange idea initially, but Hassoon convinced him to run with him and the young man soon displayed exceptional ability.


- 'This village is special' -

He has since amassed trophies in a number of national running and cycling events and the group of evening joggers from the village is growing steadily.

 

An Iraqi man rides past a sign indicating that using the horn is forbidden in the southern Iraqi vil …

"This village is special because you have support like nowhere else in Iraq," he said, wearing a red-and-black tracksuit, his hair still drying off after his daily swim in the river.

Earlier this year, 3,000 people took part in the annual village run, which included different distances for different age groups.

"We were surprised to see so many people were interested in personal health and the environment," said Hassoon, who returned from nearly two decades in the United Arab Emirates three years ago.

He now has plans to organise a full-length marathon and is also looking at ways of better including women in the village's development.

"It's conservative around here... People are used to thinking women should stay at home all day. We have broken many barriers, but this one will take time," Hassoon said.

One answer is a "cultural centre" which is under construction and where women will be able to meet two days a week, attend lectures and borrow books.

"Literature, philosophy, geography, history -- absolutely no religious books," he said.

"And of course there will be Baudelaire's poetry, that's the reason I learned French when I was young."

With only about 700 inhabitants, Albu Nahadh is tiny, but its residents are convinced their experiment can be replicated.

"If you compare to other villages in the area, there are few problems here... We hope other villages will want to imitate us," said Ali.


End

 

Iraqi village bans political debate to try to keep the peace

Residents say they are trying to keep the peace

Gulf News, June 20, 2015 03:03

A sign at the entrance of Albu Nahidh village shows the rules of Diwaniya, Iraq.Image Credit: The Washington Post

Albunahidh, Iraq: This country is engulfed in a war against Daesh terrorists, and plagued by sectarian division. But one village says it has found a way to insulate itself from Iraq’s turmoil.

It has banned political debate.

Along a narrow road lined by a sunflower field, a sign welcomes visitors and lays out the rules of Albunahidh, a placid hamlet on the banks of the Euphrates River about 160km south of Baghdad.

No political or religious debate. No smoking, honking car horns or cutting down trees.

The rules are particularly striking in a country where talking politics through a thick cloud of cigarette smoke could be considered a national pastime. Iraqi men wile away hours in coffee shops and traditional meeting halls beside brimming ashtrays or bubbling water pipes debating the latest conspiracy theories and political manoeuvring.

But residents say the code of conduct is designed to protect the health of the families that live here and the unity of the community of about 500 people at a time of war.

“Everybody’s affected by what’s happening in the country,” said Kadim Hassoon, a 44-year-old engineer who lobbied for the rules. “We know the situation in Iraq, the war, the politics, what’s the benefit in talking about it? If you sit here and try and push your ideas, there’s tension.”

Under Saddam Hussain, political opposition was fiercely repressed and the fear of government informants stifled talk of politics. But since Hussain was toppled in the 2003 US-led invasion of Iraq, political debate has flourished, with scores of parties springing up, representing the nation’s diverse religious and ethnic groups.

While the southern provinces have not been touched by the battles ravaging areas farther north and west, the war is still a major topic in these Shiite heartlands. This town’s young men have gone to fight in the army and in a growing array of Shiite militias, giving the conflict more immediacy. Meanwhile, the Shiite south watched closely as former prime minister Nouri Al Maliki, who had a healthy following in villages like this, was forced to resign in August and was replaced by Haider Al Abadi, another Shiite. All of it is fodder for debate.

“I’d say: What’s the point?” Hassoon said. “Religious parties are always trying to push people. Religious debate is a dangerous matter.”

From across the village’s central “mudhif,” a gathering space made of woven river reeds, Abdullah Kadhim Saghban, a wizened 74-year-old, agreed.

“After 2003, we received democracy, we talked, but there were so many parties it caused division,” he said.

Shiites are unified in their opposition to Daesh. But these are sensitive times, Saghban pointed out. “We should avoid talking about things that might divide us, and stay united,” he said. “How did the enemy enter our cities? Because they were divided, they had differences.”

He is quick to point out that although religious debate is discouraged, the rules are not against religion.

“Religion is like the sea: It’s so deep, we shouldn’t try to fully understand it,” he said. The details, he added, should be left to clerics.

Although the rules came into force only a few months ago, smoking has long been frowned upon in this sleepy outpost, the legacy of Hassoon’s father, a village elder who strongly discouraged it for health reasons. When the younger Hassoon returned to the village two years ago after working in the Arabian Gulf, he pressed for the rules, with other “healthy” additions.

Hassoon said he also has begun to instil a culture of jogging and cycling — although it was “not an easy matter,” he said.

“It used to be that if people saw someone running on the street, it was considered something strange, abnormal,” he said. “Now we’ve broken the barrier.” Bicycles are lined up outside the village hall.

The village has held a fun run, and to mark “environment day” earlier this year it held a 20km cycling event. Hassoon also arranged for 300 new trees to be planted. Under the town’s palm trees, villagers have begun beekeeping, and a mobile library is planned.

Sodas, which are ubiquitous in sugar-loving Iraq, are banned for children. However, Abbas Karim, 15, giggled when he was asked when he last had one — two months ago, he said.

At the village shop, there’s not a cigarette packet in sight, although cans of soda do make it onto the shelves.

Hassoon said that there had been little resistance to the rules.

“There were very small voices against it, but we didn’t listen to such voices,” he said.

That’s hard to believe in a country where smoking is so pervasive. Some residents may be smoking “under the radar,” Hassoon acknowledged, with scattered cigarette butts on the street pointing to the existence of rule breakers.

The rules do not apply to guests, but Riyadh Al Shahar, 50, an artist visiting the village, decided to hold back. He’d find it hard to live here, he said. Rule breakers are not penalised, only encouraged to change their ways, residents said. But ultimately if locals don’t follow the rules, they may have to decide whether they belong here.

“First we’d treat them softly, but they should try to quit, otherwise they shouldn’t live here,” Saghban said. “The majority of us hate smoking and hate political debate, so this is just how it should be.”


End