The Battle of Mosul & Peshmerga

The Kurds have been betrayed by Trump, Bush I, and Obama, (who created the vacuum for Daesh to occupy in Iraq by prematurely withdrawing our troops, solely for domestic political reasons). Nevertheless, the Kurds keep fighting and keep hoping. French philosopher Bernard-Henri Lévy documented the brave Kurdish Peshmerga fighting force as it drove the Daesh (a.k.a. Isis) terrorists out of the autonomous Kurdistan region and neighboring areas of Iraq in The Battle for Mosul and Peshmerga, both of which open as a double-bill this weekend at the Quad.

Battle opens in October of 2017, with the Peshmerga army on a roll. It turns out the Isis terrorist forces are good at oppressing and torturing civilians and destroying the treasures of antiquity, like the tomb of the Prophet Jonah, which we see in ruins. However, they are not so hot at battlefield combat against a comparably armed foe. Their best strategies involve snipers and ambushes, but they continue to retreat in the face of the Peshmerga advance. Then, for a host of thorny political reasons, the regular Iraqi Army takes over the business of liberating the minority-Kurdish, Iraqi city of Mosul. At this point, the war gets far more complicated as the Iraqis get bogged down.

To some extent, it made sense the Iraqis should liberate an Iraqi city, but Lévy questions the wisdom of the strategy from the outset—and his is soon vindicated by battlefield realities. In Battle, Lévy goes further advocating complete independence and recognition for a Kurdish state than in his previous film, Peshmerga—and again, it is hard to argue with him based on the events he captures on film.

NYJFF ’17: Peshmerga

The Kurdish homeland remains divided between four nations: Iran, Iraq, Turkey, and Syria. Sadly, these days Iraq is probably the friendliest nation of the quartet—and the one in the least position to object. Moderate Sunnis also appreciate the efforts of the Kurdish Peshmerga forces countering the advance of ISIS. Is it time to call for the independence of a free, unified Kurdistan? French philosopher Bernard-Henri Lévy indirectly but unmistakably raises that question in his remarkable documentary Peshmerga (trailer here), which screens during the 2017 New York Jewish Film Festival.

These are the Kurdish resistance fighters who rose up against Saddam Hussein. It was also the Peshmerga who uncovered key intel that led to the capture and death of Osama bin Laden. Lévy (or BHL as it is often dubbed in the press) flatly asserts they have been the most effective fighting force battling ISIS (they prefer the term “Daesh,” which is good enough for us)—and he ought to know. For six months, the mediagenic BHL was embedded with various Peshmerga companies, with brief time out taken to tend to his wounded cameraman. Yes, they were very definitely under fire.

Understandably, BHL was reluctant to leave Ala Hoshyar Tayyeb during his initial treatment, but the time was not entirely lost. While waiting to either return to the front or shuttle his crew member to France for treatment, BHL visits an Assyrian Christian priest, who fled the Daesh onslaught along with his flock, the last native speakers of Aramaic let on earth, which just shows how closely linked this region is to antiquity.

Initially, viewers might presume Peshmerga was selected by the NYJFF simply because of BHL’s Jewish faith, but the film takes on deeper Jewish resonance when Lévy visits a remote village that still takes pride in its ancient Jewish roots. Surely, the significance of the Muslim Kurds embracing ancestral links to Judaism is so self-evident, it hardly needs belaboring. As an additional fun fact, the Peshmerga are sufficiently progressive to have women’s platoons, whom Daesh particularly fear, because if they are killed by a woman they will supposedly be denied their place in paradise and those seventy-two virgins, so good hunting to the Peshmerga women.

BHL is indeed one of the most important living philosophers, but as an embedded journo, he captures episodes of warfighting comparable to anything in the films of Sebastian Junger. He introduces viewers to several Peshmerga commanders, who are colorful and . . . commanding. Sadly, we will also mourn for one of them. BHL conveys the shock of his loss, but still handles the incident with appropriate sensitivity.

Lévy is clearly a Peshmerga backer, but it is hard to blame him, given the boots-on-the-ground reality. Arguably, his upfront honesty on the subject is rather refreshing, while the film itself is enormously informative and persuasive. The Peshmerga are protecting their homeland, but they are also fighting our fight. Hopefully, the incoming administration will be more proactive aiding them. Very highly recommended, Peshmerga screens twice this coming Wednesday (1/18) at the Walter Reade, as part of the 2017 New York Jewish Film Festival.

Return to Kirkuk

Return to Kirkuk: A Year in the Fire
Produced by Karzan Sherabayani
Eagle Media

“President Bush is a sacred person.” Not exactly the words you would expect to hear spoken in a documentary that aired on the BBC, Al Jazeera International and Frontline, but Karzan Sherabayani’s Return to Kirkuk resists the temptation to play to partisans on either side of the war to liberate Iraq.

At the age of fourteen, the Kurdish Sherabayani was imprisoned and tortured by Saddam Hussein’s secret police. His freedom was eventually ransomed by his older brother, leading Sherabayani to spend the next thirty years in exile in England. Kirkuk documents his return to his Kurdish homeland at a pivotal point in its history.

When he returned, the Kurds were granted the Kurdistan Autonomous Region under a proposed federal system of government. However, Sherabayani’s home city of Kirkuk was not including in this territory. Oh, and there’s oil there. A lot: “Kirkuk sits on 10 billion barrels of oil, worth over US$700 billion. This is more than twice the oil reserves of Texas.”

Sherabayani expresses great resentment for the British for partitioning Kurdistan in 1921 and for Americans abandoning the Kurdish resistance during the first Gulf War. Yet he has no false nostalgia for the Saddam regime, having experienced its savagery first hand.

In a particularly chilling sequence, Sherabayani returns to the cell in which he was tortured, reliving the horror of an experience that obviously still haunts him. He is not the only survivor we hear from. We meet, for instance, the elderly woman (a longtime family friend), who described Pres. Bush as “sacred.” Another friend adds: “We should make golden statues of Mr. Bush & Mr. Blair, and put them in every city.”

The act of voting is an important theme in Kirkuk. Sherabayani states: “For many years I have never had a chance to vote in this country, and now, in one year, this is the third time.” As Sherabayani shows viewers Iraqi and Kurdish citizens risking their lives to vote, it is impossible to miss the significance.

Yet, Sherabayani is also pessimistic about the future, often predicting civil war. He criticizes American military policies and frequently advocates an independent Kurdish state. Given the Kurdish support for coalition forces, he makes a decent case.

Kirkuk is told through a very personal, often moving, prism that conveys much about the actual state of affairs for the Kurds in Iraq. It is informative without conforming to preconceived prejudices. If only the same could be said for more of what the BBC and Frontline (let alone Al Jazeera) programmed.