Iraq

Not for the first time, Kurds in Iraq and Syria are facing an uncertain future. In Syria, an estimated 150,000 people were displaced by fighting in the mostly Kurdish region of Afrin in the space of a few days this month. When the Turkish army, backed by Syrian rebel allies, rolled into the city of Afrin, Kurds fled in trucks and cars, their belongings piled high. For many it conjured up the memories of Kurdish suffering which some hoped was a thing of the past. In March of 1988 and 1991, Kurds fled Saddam Hussein’s brutal oppression, often seeking refuge in Turkey and Iran. The loss of Afrin marks a major setback for Kurdish aspirations that had grown in the last years as Kurdish forces helped defeat Islamic State.

After the most intensive street-by-street combat since 1945, Isis’s so-called caliphate is no more. Last weekend, the Iraqi government won what should be the final battle and is now preparing to say that the war is ended. The jihadis still have the odd redoubt — but they have been forced out of Mosul and Raqqa after an intensive coalition campaign led by America and Britain. Donald Trump is unlikely to emulate his predecessor-but-one by appearing in front of a banner saying ‘Mission Accomplished’. Theresa May probably won’t deliver such a statement either. Indeed, the war against Isis has barely been mentioned by either politician, even though our involvement has been larger than expected.

The routing of Isis in northern Iraq ought to be a time of international celebration, but as ever in the Middle East, there is no such thing as a straightforward victory. No sooner had Isis been driven away — though not quite vanquished — than the next great struggle commenced, this time between the Iraqi government and the Kurdish forces who for the past three years have been holding back Isis from the city of Kirkuk and its surrounding oilfields. This week, Iraqi forces stormed into Kirkuk and raised the country’s official flag, removing the Kurdish flag which was raised there in 2014.

Last week, American, British and UN diplomats tried to persuade the Kurds in Iraq to delay their referendum on independence. This high-profile intervention came amid a swirl of fiery rhetoric from other actors, especially Iran. The diplomats haven't convinced the Kurdistani leadership, however, and so the vote will happen a week today – barring some last minute deal. The diplomats argued that the referendum will divide those fighting Daesh and destabilise the region. The Kurds argued that political divisions at home or with Baghdad have not hampered fighting Daesh. Besides, Kurdistani leaders are seeking a popular mandate for negotiating an amicable divorce with Baghdad over five or even ten years, rather than a sudden unilateral declaration of independence.

As the floodwaters subsided, the Ark drifted across northern Iraq. Finally, with a crunching jolt, it hit dry land. Its timbers had scraped the peak of a mountain range called Sinjar. Water began to pour in. Fortunately, a black serpent, its coils as thick as an arm, moved to plug the breach. The Ark did not sink. Noah, his family, and all the various animals on board survived to repopulate the earth. This story, so familiar, so strange, can be seen illustrated in a shady courtyard that also boasts, just for good measure, the very spot where Adam is claimed to have been fashioned from dust. Lalish, a magical compound of domes, towers and stairways, stands in a valley in Iraqi Kurdistan.

A grainy video posted to Twitter shows a bearded man, his hands raised, on his knees, pleading for his life. A few seconds later, a soldier in desert fatigues, and allegedly from the Iraqi Army's 16th Division, enters the frame and pushes the petrified man over the edge of a cliff on to the banks of a river down below. The man appears alive, just, but as he attempts to slither to cover, the soldier unleashes a volley of a dozen or so rounds, leaving his bloodied body lifeless. His crime is unclear, though without jury nor trial his tormentors have accused him of being a member of Isis. It is barely two weeks since Iraqi Prime Minister Haider Al-Abadi declared Mosul officially liberated from Isis.

A cloudless sky, crunchy spring snow, longer, warmer days. I’ve finally got in some good skiing, twisting around moguls like an arthritic champ. It’s all in the mind, as my old wrestling coach used to tell me. If you think the other guy’s better, you’re bound to lose to him. The same goes for the slope. If it scares you, stay in the club and have another drink. Otherwise, attack it with gusto and feel like a champ again. The same applies to the fairer sex. If you’re too nervous to speak to her, keep moving. We have four of the prettiest young women at The Spectator, all taken alas, and I’ve managed not to make a fool of myself with any of them (well, a tiny bit with one of them, but what the hell, no one’s perfect).

On this week's podcast, we discuss what the end of Isis means for a fragile Middle East, debate whether John Bercow should be packing his bags, and ask if the days of the Bullingdon Club have finally ended. First, the attempt by ISIS to establish a Caliphate has been on the rocks for some time, and with President Trump now at the tiller of the US military, its days may be numbered. Trump wants to retake the Syrian city of Raqqa quickly, but, in order to do so, he might have to rewrite the cautious approach of his predecessor, Barack Obama. Paul Wood writes about the situation in this week’s magazine cover piece, and he joined the podcast from Washington, along with the Conservative MP and Iraq War veteran, Tom Tugendhat.