Iraq's Cascade of Crises: From Spreading Deserts to Decaying Cities, a Portrait of State Failure

ERBIL (Kurdistan24) – A devastating wave of environmental collapse, public health emergencies, and infrastructural decay is sweeping across federal Iraq, painting a grim portrait of a state struggling to perform its most basic functions and leaving its citizens in a state of deepening despair.

From the southern marshes where more than 20 areas have succumbed to desertification, to the towns of Anbar where a poisonous plant is forcing children from their schools, and to the ancient city of Samarra, a UNESCO World Heritage site now buried under dust and neglect, a series of interconnected crises reveals a profound failure of governance. 

This widespread neglect stands in stark contrast to the strategic initiatives undertaken by the Kurdistan Regional Government, which has implemented a robust water management program of dams and ponds, demonstrating a proactive approach to the very same climate challenges that are bringing much of federal Iraq to its knees.

The most existential of these threats is the creeping desertification that is consuming the historical Fertile Crescent. Year after year, the twin scourges of desertification and drought are tightening their grip, placing Iraq in the fifth rank of countries most affected by climate change.

In the country's south, the legendary "Land of Two Rivers" is turning to dust. The crisis is not an abstract environmental statistic; it is a lived reality of loss and displacement. In the once-lush agricultural lands, orchards are withering and the soil is cracking.

For farmers like Ali Abdul-Kazim, the blame lies squarely with a government that has failed to plan for a predictable crisis. "The government must have a long-term plan for the water crisis," he told Kurdistan24, standing amid the ruins of his orchard.

"If we have a government, it must at least have a 50-year plan, including the construction of dams and other things. If there is a large dam in Basra, we will return its water to Dhi Qar, Baghdad, and even other provinces, but all the water of the Shatt al-Arab goes to Kuwait and then to the sea," he said.  

His plea is not for a miracle, but for basic, competent, long-term governance—something he and many others feel is entirely absent.

This sense of abandonment is even more palpable in the Abu Zarg marshes, a vast wetland ecosystem straddling the provinces of Dhi Qar and Maysan. Once a vibrant cradle of life and culture, the marshes are now a landscape of despair.

The water has receded, leaving behind cracked earth and the skeletons of livestock.

With their primary sources of livelihood—fishing, buffalo husbandry, and agriculture—decimated, most of the families who have inhabited this region for generations have been forced to abandon their homes, becoming climate refugees in their own country.

Abu Ahmed al-Amiri, a citizen of Nasiriyah on the edge of the dying marshes, described the scale of the catastrophe. "We have suffered great losses due to the drought. Our fields and trees have been destroyed," he said. "There is no defense against the drought. We demand that a dam be built on the Euphrates River. If dams are built in Dhi Qar, people will not migrate due to lack of water. Even our animals have perished. Birds and fish have also perished due to the drought."

His call for a special committee to address the water crisis and for the construction of a dam in Nasiriyah to benefit farmers underscores a desperate public appeal for state intervention that has gone unanswered.

The tragedy is compounded by the fact that funds have been allocated, yet tangible results remain elusive. According to official figures, Iraq's three-year budget had earmarked 10.8 billion dinars to support the environmental sector, distributed among the ministries of Oil, Electricity, and Environment.

Despite this substantial allocation, environmental activists point out that there is still no discernible comprehensive national strategy to combat drought and desertification, leading to questions about how and where this money is being spent.

This paralysis in federal Iraq presents a stark contrast with the proactive measures being implemented in the Kurdistan Region. While facing the same regional climate pressures, the Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG) has adopted a strategic plan centered on water security.

This year alone, it is planned that 24 new dams will be completed. The KRG's approach focuses on the collection of rainwater and spring water and the protection of precious groundwater resources as the most critical measures to confront climate change.

These efforts are designed to provide the necessary water for drinking, agriculture, and animal husbandry, securing the future of the region's communities. Over the past four years, the KRG has already completed 8 dams and 8 ponds, with another 43 ponds currently under implementation. These projects have a combined capacity to collect three billion cubic meters of water per year.

The impact of this policy is not just visible in statistics, but in the transformed landscapes and renewed livelihoods of the people. The dam in the Gomaspan area, the third-largest in the Kurdistan Region and the largest in Erbil province, has become a lifeline for the local population.

Beyond its environmental role, it now serves as a major source of water for the lands of hundreds of farmers and livestock owners. Hassan Sabir, a shepherd from Gomaspan village, has been bringing his livestock to the dam for irrigation since 2024. He described the dramatic change to Kurdistan24.

"This place was dry and very unpleasant, but with the dam, it has become very nice. Its nature has also become beautiful," he said. "When this area was dry, we did not come here, but now it has been made into a dam and there is water, so we come in the evening for animal husbandry and agriculture. Therefore, I thank the Kurdistan Regional Government for collecting this water here."

While the KRG builds resilience, other parts of Iraq are grappling with different, though equally dangerous, symptoms of state neglect. In the Habbaniyah district of Anbar province, a public health crisis is unfolding.

A dangerous and poisonous plant, identified as datura, has spread across large swaths of agricultural and deserted lands. The plant's proliferation is not just an ecological concern; it has caused several cases of poisoning and is now directly impacting the education and safety of children. Dr. Yousef Khalil, an academic, explained the severity of the situation to Kurdistan24.

"The datura plant has spread in the deserted areas, especially in Habbaniyah. The relevant authorities must address this issue," he warned. "We are now in the new school season, and a number of students have dropped out of school due to the dangers of this poisonous plant on their way."

The fear is tangible and the consequences are immediate. Mohammed Musa, a local student, shared his personal story: "I am a student, but due to the cases of poisoning, I cannot go to school. I call on the Ministry of Health to solve this issue, because many students have dropped out of school due to the diseases that this plant causes to humans."

Experts emphasize that the datura plant is exceptionally dangerous to both humans and animals, with its components capable of causing delirium, unconsciousness, and even death if ingested.

While the Habbaniyah Environment Directorate, in coordination with agriculture and municipal authorities, has drawn up an "urgent plan" involving burning campaigns to eradicate the plant, the response has come only after the problem has escalated to the point of endangering children and disrupting their education, highlighting a reactive rather than preventative approach to public safety.

Perhaps nowhere is the multifaceted failure of governance more tragically symbolized than in the ancient city of Samarra. Once the capital of the Abbasid Caliphate and a beacon of Islamic civilization, this UNESCO World Heritage site is now a testament to systemic neglect and corruption. T

he city lacks the most basic services, and its citizens live in a state of perpetual frustration. Qais Majid, a shopkeeper on the city's al-Arboush street, sweeps the dust and dirt from the front of his shop up to five times a day, a direct result of a perpetually unfinished sewage project.

"The completion of the Samarra sewage has become a dream for the citizens," he lamented. The project, which began more than five years ago, has seen its work progress not even reach five percent. The sight of a single excavator and a handful of workers on what should be a major infrastructure project has become a cruel joke for residents.

The despair among the people of Samarra is profound. "It is the oldest city in the world, and instead of being happy to see it, we are sad," said citizen Abdul-Jabbar Hassan. "The people of Samarra have been inhaling dust for five years, and they will have to inhale dust for at least another five years. Maybe our future generations will see sewage and paved streets, and maybe they will see worse."

"Maybe our future generations will see sewage and paved streets, and maybe they will see worse."

The city is a showcase of cruel paradoxes: it sits on the banks of the Tigris River yet suffers from a drinking water problem; it has its own power station yet endures chronic electricity shortages, forcing residents like Hamad Ismail to pay exorbitant fees for private generators. It is home to the country's largest pharmaceutical factory, yet its main hospital, a dilapidated 50-year-old structure, is without adequate medicine.

Mohammed Mukhtar, an activist in Samarra, points directly to corruption as the root cause. "Many billions of dinars have been spent on Samarra in the past years, something that has not happened in history," he explained. "The projects are ink on paper, and nothing has been implemented."

He noted that for 15 years, the government has been "busy" building a new hospital that remains unfinished.

The ultimate symbol of this graft may be the site designated for a new museum. In a city whose tourism income is significant due to world-famous sites like the Malwiya minaret, two billion and 700 million dinars were allocated for the museum's construction.

Twelve years later, all that exists is a large hole in the ground. As the people of Samarra say with bitter irony, "a hole has cost us more than two billion." From the parched lands of the south to the poisoned fields of Anbar and the decaying streets of a world heritage city, the narrative across federal Iraq is one of broken promises, squandered wealth, and a citizenry left to fend for itself.

Kurdistan24 correspondents, Mohammed al-Dulaimi from Habbaniyah, Soran Kamaran from Samarra, Aram Bakhtiyar and Shima Bayiz contributed to this report.