'The world has moved on'
In the early morning hours of August 3, 2014, the extremist "Islamic State," or IS, group attacked communities in northern Iraq that were home to the ethno-religious Yazidi minority.
Yazidi men were executed on the spot and women and children were captured, with thousands eventually being sold into slavery.
By 2017, the IS group was declared defeated in Iraq. Today, most members are either dead, imprisoned, or in hiding. But many Yazidis are still waiting for justice.
DW
August 2, 2024
Ten years after the massacre of their community by the "Islamic State" group in Iraq, Yazidis are still seeking justice. This year, the unexpected end of a special UN investigative mission is a worrying setback.
Ten years after the massacre of their community by the "Islamic State" group in Iraq, Yazidis are still seeking justice. This year, the unexpected end of a special UN investigative mission is a worrying setback.
Yazidi organizations say it is very important that evidence survivors of the IS group gave to the UN investigators be protected
Safrin Hamed/AFP/Getty Images
In the early morning hours of August 3, 2014, the extremist "Islamic State," or IS, group attacked communities in northern Iraq that were home to the ethno-religious Yazidi minority.
Yazidi men were executed on the spot and women and children were captured, with thousands eventually being sold into slavery.
By 2017, the IS group was declared defeated in Iraq. Today, most members are either dead, imprisoned, or in hiding. But many Yazidis are still waiting for justice.
Yazidi families fled into nearby mountains, where up to 50,000 people were trapped without water or food and many died.Image: Rodi Said/File Photo/Reuters
Progress made
There have been positive developments over the past decade, Murad Ismael, head of the Sinjar Academy, an institute in northern Iraq for Yazidi education, told DW.
That includes the resettlement of Yazidi survivors in third countries and international court cases trialing former IS members, he said. It also includes international recognition that IS committed genocide against the Yazidi and the Iraqi government's Yazidi Survivors Law of 2021. That legislation offers reparation of sorts to abused Yazidi women, including a monthly income of around $500.
But there's still more to be done, Ismael and others argue. Of around 7,000 Yazidis captured by the IS group, 2,600 are still unaccounted for and mass graves are still being exhumed around Iraq.
And things are not looking so positive for the ongoing pursuit of justice. "I think the world, including Iraq, is now moving beyond the IS chapter altogether," Ismael said.
Unfortunately this year, the Yazidi suffered another serious setback: the unexpected closure of the United Nations Investigative Team to Promote Accountability for Crimes Committed by Daesh (the Arabic acronym for the IS group). The organization, commonly known as UNITAD, started work in 2018 to investigate IS crimes, including those committed against the Yazidis, but it will be dissolved in mid-September.
UNITAD is in Iraq at the invitation of the country's government and late last year, the Iraqis said it was no longer needed.
The head of UNITAD, Christian Ritscher, warned that his team would not be able to finish their work by September.
"Many survivors … see UNITAD as the only hope to achieve meaningful justice in Iraq," an open letter by 33 different advocacy groups added. "For its work to stop so abruptly … would be a disaster for survivors, Iraq, and the international community. It would send the signal that justice is not a real priority."
Why close UNITAD?
There are several reasons for UNITAD's unexpected end.
It's partially political, Ismael argues. Besides simply moving on historically, "anything international seems not to be welcomed by the new Iraqi government," Ismael says.
In May this year, Iraq requested that the United Nations Assistance Mission in Iraq, which has been working there since 2003, be withdrawn.
Local media reports also suggest there was friction between UNITAD and the Iraqi establishment. Iraq does not have a law that covers what are known as "international crimes" — that is, serious violations of international law like crimes against humanity, genocide, torture or enforced disappearance.
Progress made
There have been positive developments over the past decade, Murad Ismael, head of the Sinjar Academy, an institute in northern Iraq for Yazidi education, told DW.
That includes the resettlement of Yazidi survivors in third countries and international court cases trialing former IS members, he said. It also includes international recognition that IS committed genocide against the Yazidi and the Iraqi government's Yazidi Survivors Law of 2021. That legislation offers reparation of sorts to abused Yazidi women, including a monthly income of around $500.
But there's still more to be done, Ismael and others argue. Of around 7,000 Yazidis captured by the IS group, 2,600 are still unaccounted for and mass graves are still being exhumed around Iraq.
And things are not looking so positive for the ongoing pursuit of justice. "I think the world, including Iraq, is now moving beyond the IS chapter altogether," Ismael said.
Unfortunately this year, the Yazidi suffered another serious setback: the unexpected closure of the United Nations Investigative Team to Promote Accountability for Crimes Committed by Daesh (the Arabic acronym for the IS group). The organization, commonly known as UNITAD, started work in 2018 to investigate IS crimes, including those committed against the Yazidis, but it will be dissolved in mid-September.
UNITAD is in Iraq at the invitation of the country's government and late last year, the Iraqis said it was no longer needed.
The head of UNITAD, Christian Ritscher, warned that his team would not be able to finish their work by September.
"Many survivors … see UNITAD as the only hope to achieve meaningful justice in Iraq," an open letter by 33 different advocacy groups added. "For its work to stop so abruptly … would be a disaster for survivors, Iraq, and the international community. It would send the signal that justice is not a real priority."
Why close UNITAD?
There are several reasons for UNITAD's unexpected end.
It's partially political, Ismael argues. Besides simply moving on historically, "anything international seems not to be welcomed by the new Iraqi government," Ismael says.
In May this year, Iraq requested that the United Nations Assistance Mission in Iraq, which has been working there since 2003, be withdrawn.
Local media reports also suggest there was friction between UNITAD and the Iraqi establishment. Iraq does not have a law that covers what are known as "international crimes" — that is, serious violations of international law like crimes against humanity, genocide, torture or enforced disappearance.
Two mass graves were excavated last month in northern Iraq, with 153 bodies in them — some are likely YazidisImage: Ali Makram Ghareeb/Anadolu/picture alliance
That is why no IS members have been charged with international crimes in Iraq, Bryar Baban, a Kurdish law professor, pointed out in an analysis for the Paris-based French Research Center on Iraq earlier this year. "Regrettably, UNITAD was unsuccessful in urging Iraqi authorities to enact such legislation," he said.
In Iraq, IS members are usually prosecuted using anti-terrorism laws, he continued. "The Iraqi justice system lacks fair trials, with some as brief as 10 minutes. Trials do not include victims and survivors... and atrocities committed against Yazidis are rarely factored into Iraqi judicial processes."
Additionally, Iraq uses the death penalty, which the UN opposes. This is why, local media suggested, UNITAD had not always been enthusiastic about sharing evidence with the Iraqis.
Impact of UNITAD's closure
"There will be a big void that needs to be filled," Pari Ibrahim, director of the Free Yezidi Foundation, told DW during an event held by the Atlantic Council this week. "We were really counting on UNITAD."
That is why no IS members have been charged with international crimes in Iraq, Bryar Baban, a Kurdish law professor, pointed out in an analysis for the Paris-based French Research Center on Iraq earlier this year. "Regrettably, UNITAD was unsuccessful in urging Iraqi authorities to enact such legislation," he said.
In Iraq, IS members are usually prosecuted using anti-terrorism laws, he continued. "The Iraqi justice system lacks fair trials, with some as brief as 10 minutes. Trials do not include victims and survivors... and atrocities committed against Yazidis are rarely factored into Iraqi judicial processes."
Additionally, Iraq uses the death penalty, which the UN opposes. This is why, local media suggested, UNITAD had not always been enthusiastic about sharing evidence with the Iraqis.
Impact of UNITAD's closure
"There will be a big void that needs to be filled," Pari Ibrahim, director of the Free Yezidi Foundation, told DW during an event held by the Atlantic Council this week. "We were really counting on UNITAD."
UNITAD has said it will prepare to hand over responsibilities and train locals to carry on work like forensics on mass gravesImage: Zaid Al-Obeidi/AFP/Getty Images
But what legal experts and advocacy organizations are most worried about is what happens to the evidence UNITAD has collected. Some of this has come via the Iraqi government but UNITAD also had investigators conducting interviews in the field.
"A lot of survivors went to UNITAD because they trusted the UN mechanism," Ibrahim pointed out. "A lot did not want to share their testimony with Iraqi prosecutors." They didn't trust them, she explained.
Reports suggest Iraqi officials may now want to keep evidence and conduct trials inside the country. They have also hinted that they should be the ones that give permission to third-country prosecutors to use Iraqi evidence.
But, as law professor Baban writes, what if Iraq refuses to pass on evidence: "Could we not face a denial of justice?"
What now?
Yazidi advocacy organizations have suggested the UN keep UNITAD's evidence safe, or that another special tribunal be created to take its place.
"Ultimately our position is that we want justice to happen in Iraq," Natia Navrouzov, director of the advocacy organization Yazda, said during the Atlantic Council event. "Because this is the homeland of the Yazidis and other minorities that were targeted, this is where most of the survivors, the evidence, the perpetrators, and the crime scenes are. But what is missing is the trust."
There's a draft law in Iraq to allow the prosecution of international crimes but it has yet to be passed. And Iraqi authorities are not transparent enough about their plans, Navrouzov argued. "Right now the message is that 'we're closing UNITAD and we will take over,'" she says. "But where is the trust-building part?"
"I believe in fighting but, as I said before, I also think the world has moved on," Ismael, head of the Sinjar Academy, concluded. "But we Yazidis cannot move on. We hold onto this idea of accountability and justice because, for us, it's personal — while for the rest of the world, it's political. For them, IS is done, it's finished. But we can never forget."
Edited by Richard Connor
But what legal experts and advocacy organizations are most worried about is what happens to the evidence UNITAD has collected. Some of this has come via the Iraqi government but UNITAD also had investigators conducting interviews in the field.
"A lot of survivors went to UNITAD because they trusted the UN mechanism," Ibrahim pointed out. "A lot did not want to share their testimony with Iraqi prosecutors." They didn't trust them, she explained.
Reports suggest Iraqi officials may now want to keep evidence and conduct trials inside the country. They have also hinted that they should be the ones that give permission to third-country prosecutors to use Iraqi evidence.
But, as law professor Baban writes, what if Iraq refuses to pass on evidence: "Could we not face a denial of justice?"
What now?
Yazidi advocacy organizations have suggested the UN keep UNITAD's evidence safe, or that another special tribunal be created to take its place.
"Ultimately our position is that we want justice to happen in Iraq," Natia Navrouzov, director of the advocacy organization Yazda, said during the Atlantic Council event. "Because this is the homeland of the Yazidis and other minorities that were targeted, this is where most of the survivors, the evidence, the perpetrators, and the crime scenes are. But what is missing is the trust."
There's a draft law in Iraq to allow the prosecution of international crimes but it has yet to be passed. And Iraqi authorities are not transparent enough about their plans, Navrouzov argued. "Right now the message is that 'we're closing UNITAD and we will take over,'" she says. "But where is the trust-building part?"
"I believe in fighting but, as I said before, I also think the world has moved on," Ismael, head of the Sinjar Academy, concluded. "But we Yazidis cannot move on. We hold onto this idea of accountability and justice because, for us, it's personal — while for the rest of the world, it's political. For them, IS is done, it's finished. But we can never forget."
Edited by Richard Connor
10 Years after Massacre
Yazidi women raise banners during a demonstration demanding their rights and the release of those kidnapped by ISIS militants, in Mosul, Iraq, June 3, 2024.
London: Asharq Al Awsat
3 August 2024
The security situation further complicates matters. A mosaic of armed groups that fought to free Sinjar have remained in this strategic corner of Iraq, holding de facto power on the ground.
This is despite the 2020 Sinjar Agreement that called for such groups to leave and for the appointment of a mayor with a police force composed of locals.
And from the skies above, frequent Turkish drone strikes target fighters aligned with the Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK). Civilians are among those killed in these attacks, adding to the sense of insecurity.
Akhtin Intiqam, a 25-year-old commander in the PKK-aligned Sinjar Protection Units (YBS), one of the armed factions in the area, defends their continued presence:
"We are in control of this area and we are responsible for protecting Sinjar from all external attacks," she said.
Speaking in a room adorned with pictures of fallen comrades, numbering more than 150, Intiqam views the Sinjar Agreement with suspicion.
"We will fight with all our power against anyone who tries to implement this plan. It will never succeed," she said.
GOVERNMENT EFFORTS
As the stalemate continues, Sinjar remains underdeveloped. Families who do return receive a one-time payment of about $3,000 from the government.
Meanwhile, more than 200,000 Yazidis remain in Kurdistan, many living in shabby tent settlements. The Iraqi government is pushing to break up these camps, insisting it's time for people to go home.
"You can't blame people for having lost hope. The scale of the damage and displacement is very big and for many years extremely little was done to address it," said Khalaf Sinjari, the Iraqi prime minister's advisor for Yazidi affairs.
This government, he said, was taking Sinjar seriously.
It plans to spend hundreds of millions of dollars – including all previously unspent budgets since 2014 - on development and infrastructure, including for paying compensation, building two new hospitals and a university and linking Sinjar to the country’s water network for the first time. "There is hope to bring back life," said Sinjari, himself a member of the Yazidi community.
However, the presence of an estimated 50,000 ISIS fighters and their families across the border in Syria in detention centers and camps stokes fears of history repeating itself.
Efforts by some Iraqi lawmakers to pass a general amnesty law that could see the freeing of many ISIS prisoners from Iraqi jails only add to these concerns. And the Yazidi struggle for justice is stalled, with the government this year ending a UN mission that sought to help bring ISIS fighters to trial for international crimes, citing a lack of cooperation between it and the mission.
Despite the challenges, some Yazidis are choosing to return. Farhad Barakat Ali, a Yazidi activist and journalist who was displaced by ISIS, made the decision to go back several years ago.
Yazidi women raise banners during a demonstration demanding their rights and the release of those kidnapped by ISIS militants, in Mosul, Iraq, June 3, 2024.
REUTERS/Khalid Al-Mousily
London: Asharq Al Awsat
3 August 2024
AD ـ 28 Muharram 1446 AH
Fahad Qassim was just 11 years old when ISIS militants overran his Yazidi community in the Sinjar region of northern Iraq in August 2014, taking him captive.
The attack was the start of what became the systematic slaughter, enslavement, and rape of thousands of Yazidis, shocking the world and displacing most of the 550,000-strong ancient religious minority. Thousands of people were rounded up and killed during the initial assault, which began in the early hours of Aug. 3.
Many more are believed to have died in captivity. Survivors fled up the slopes of Mount Sinjar, where some were trapped for many weeks by an ISIS siege.
The assault on the Yazidis - an ancient religious minority in eastern Syria and northwest Iraq - was part of ISIS' effort to establish a so-called “caliphate.”
At one stage, the group held a third of Iraq and neighboring Syria before being pushed back and collapsing in 2019.
Now 21, Qassim lives in a small apartment on the edge of a refugee camp in the Kurdistan region of Iraq, far from his hometown.
He was trained as a child soldier and fought in grinding battles before being liberated as ISIS collapsed in Syria's Baghuz in 2019, but only after losing the bottom half of his leg to an airstrike by the US-led forces.
"I don't plan for any future in Iraq," he said, waiting for news on a visa application to a Western country.
"Those who go back say they fear the same thing that happened in 2014 will happen again."
Qassim's reluctance to return is shared by many. A decade after what has been recognized as a genocide by many governments and UN agencies, Sinjar district remains largely destroyed.
The old city of Sinjar is a confused heap of grey and brown stone, while villages like Kojo, where hundreds were killed, are crumbling ghost towns.
Limited services, poor electricity and water supply, and what locals say is inadequate government compensation for rebuilding have made resettlement challenging.
POWER STRUGGLE
Fahad Qassim was just 11 years old when ISIS militants overran his Yazidi community in the Sinjar region of northern Iraq in August 2014, taking him captive.
The attack was the start of what became the systematic slaughter, enslavement, and rape of thousands of Yazidis, shocking the world and displacing most of the 550,000-strong ancient religious minority. Thousands of people were rounded up and killed during the initial assault, which began in the early hours of Aug. 3.
Many more are believed to have died in captivity. Survivors fled up the slopes of Mount Sinjar, where some were trapped for many weeks by an ISIS siege.
The assault on the Yazidis - an ancient religious minority in eastern Syria and northwest Iraq - was part of ISIS' effort to establish a so-called “caliphate.”
At one stage, the group held a third of Iraq and neighboring Syria before being pushed back and collapsing in 2019.
Now 21, Qassim lives in a small apartment on the edge of a refugee camp in the Kurdistan region of Iraq, far from his hometown.
He was trained as a child soldier and fought in grinding battles before being liberated as ISIS collapsed in Syria's Baghuz in 2019, but only after losing the bottom half of his leg to an airstrike by the US-led forces.
"I don't plan for any future in Iraq," he said, waiting for news on a visa application to a Western country.
"Those who go back say they fear the same thing that happened in 2014 will happen again."
Qassim's reluctance to return is shared by many. A decade after what has been recognized as a genocide by many governments and UN agencies, Sinjar district remains largely destroyed.
The old city of Sinjar is a confused heap of grey and brown stone, while villages like Kojo, where hundreds were killed, are crumbling ghost towns.
Limited services, poor electricity and water supply, and what locals say is inadequate government compensation for rebuilding have made resettlement challenging.
POWER STRUGGLE
The security situation further complicates matters. A mosaic of armed groups that fought to free Sinjar have remained in this strategic corner of Iraq, holding de facto power on the ground.
This is despite the 2020 Sinjar Agreement that called for such groups to leave and for the appointment of a mayor with a police force composed of locals.
And from the skies above, frequent Turkish drone strikes target fighters aligned with the Kurdistan Workers Party (PKK). Civilians are among those killed in these attacks, adding to the sense of insecurity.
Akhtin Intiqam, a 25-year-old commander in the PKK-aligned Sinjar Protection Units (YBS), one of the armed factions in the area, defends their continued presence:
"We are in control of this area and we are responsible for protecting Sinjar from all external attacks," she said.
Speaking in a room adorned with pictures of fallen comrades, numbering more than 150, Intiqam views the Sinjar Agreement with suspicion.
"We will fight with all our power against anyone who tries to implement this plan. It will never succeed," she said.
GOVERNMENT EFFORTS
As the stalemate continues, Sinjar remains underdeveloped. Families who do return receive a one-time payment of about $3,000 from the government.
Meanwhile, more than 200,000 Yazidis remain in Kurdistan, many living in shabby tent settlements. The Iraqi government is pushing to break up these camps, insisting it's time for people to go home.
"You can't blame people for having lost hope. The scale of the damage and displacement is very big and for many years extremely little was done to address it," said Khalaf Sinjari, the Iraqi prime minister's advisor for Yazidi affairs.
This government, he said, was taking Sinjar seriously.
It plans to spend hundreds of millions of dollars – including all previously unspent budgets since 2014 - on development and infrastructure, including for paying compensation, building two new hospitals and a university and linking Sinjar to the country’s water network for the first time. "There is hope to bring back life," said Sinjari, himself a member of the Yazidi community.
However, the presence of an estimated 50,000 ISIS fighters and their families across the border in Syria in detention centers and camps stokes fears of history repeating itself.
Efforts by some Iraqi lawmakers to pass a general amnesty law that could see the freeing of many ISIS prisoners from Iraqi jails only add to these concerns. And the Yazidi struggle for justice is stalled, with the government this year ending a UN mission that sought to help bring ISIS fighters to trial for international crimes, citing a lack of cooperation between it and the mission.
Despite the challenges, some Yazidis are choosing to return. Farhad Barakat Ali, a Yazidi activist and journalist who was displaced by ISIS, made the decision to go back several years ago.
"I'm not encouraging everyone to return to Sinjar, but I am also not encouraging them to stay at the IDP camps either," he said from his home in Sinjar city, in the stifling heat of a power cut.
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