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The clash of visions over the Iraqi state’s identity, legitimacy, and ownership, long predating the U.S.-led invasion of the country in 2003, has been the root cause of political violence in postwar Arab Iraq. Post-2003 politics have been dominated by the competition between sect-centric Shia and Sunni forces as exemplified by the ongoing cycle of Shia-centric state building and Sunni rejection of this state-building project. As long as violence rages, the mistrust characterizing politics and sectarian relations will persist to the benefit of hardline actors on all sides.

The Roots of Iraq’s Sect-Centric Politics

• Both Shia-centric state building and Sunni rejection of the post-2003 order are the result of cumulative processes that have unfolded over the course of the twentieth century. These developments ranged from the homogenizing nation building propagated by successive Iraqi regimes to the rise of a sect-centric Shia opposition in exile.
   
• The sectarianization of Iraq was not inevitable, but regime change in 2003 accelerated the empowerment of new and preexisting sect-centric actors. The necessary will, vision, and political skill to avert the sectarianization of Iraq were absent among Iraqi and U.S. decisionmakers at the time. The failure of the occupation forces and the new political classes to construct a functioning state that could deliver basic services exacerbated the problem.
   
• Sunni opponents of the post-2003 order became as sect-centric as the system they once derided for its Shia-centricity.

Implications for Iraq’s Future

• Sectarianization will continue to define Iraqi politics. The spread of the self-proclaimed Islamic State across much of Iraq in 2014 represents the most extreme form of Sunni rejection. The state-sanctioned Hashd al-Shaabi, the term given to the mass mobilization of volunteers to repel the Islamic State, embodies the most serious defense of Shia-centric state building as of late 2015.
   
• Shia political ascendency will remain irreversible well into the foreseeable future. For Sunnis and everyone else, the distasteful implication of this is that they must either withdraw from the state by boycotting it or taking up arms, or they must accept a junior role in Iraqi politics.
   
• Extremist, sect-centric forces must be defeated if Iraq is to succeed. An end to Iraq’s sectarian warfare is a prerequisite to shift the political focus away from questions of state legitimacy and toward those of state efficiency, corruption, and service delivery. These are key to the stability and sustainability of the Iraqi state and to the securing of broader buy-in to the post-2003 order.

Introduction

The clash of visions over the Iraqi state’s identity, ownership, and legitimacy, long predating the U.S.-led invasion of the country in 2003, has been the root cause of political violence in postwar Iraq. In many ways, the carnage of the past twelve years can be viewed as part of a longer political conflict, one between two sets of ways of imagining Iraq: the more homogenizing and centralizing versions propagated by the former Baathist regime and those permitted within its redlines on the one hand and, on the other, the sect-centric and ethnocentric conceptions of Iraq advocated by the former regime’s Shia-centric and Kurdish opponents. The overthrow of Saddam Hussein upset the balance of power between these camps and created the space in which attempts to redefine Iraqi state and society could be made. It also created conditions that incentivized the entrenchment of identity politics and heralded the start of an intensely violent contest over the definition of Iraq and Iraqi nationalism.

Political violence since 2003 and the ongoing instability in Arab Iraq have been chiefly driven by the dynamic between Shia-centric state building and Sunni rejection of this state-building project.

Political violence since 2003 and the ongoing instability in Arab Iraq have been chiefly driven by the dynamic between Shia-centric state building and Sunni rejection of this state-building project. These forces were evident soon after the fall of the former regime, quickly developing mutually reinforcing qualities, feeding off of each other, polarizing society, and drawing in external actors in the process. Both are rooted in pre- and post-2003 Iraqi and regional dynamics, and there is no sign of the cyclical and destructive relationship between the two breaking any time soon.

As with many of the problems bedeviling Iraq in 2015, sectarian polarization and the dynamic between Shia-centric state building and Sunni rejection are cumulative issues with roots that have grown and evolved over the course of the twentieth century and into the twenty-first.¹ They are chiefly the product of a history of authoritarianism, failed nation building, and the mismanagement of communal plurality—a pattern that persists into the present. As such, although pre-2003 sectarian relations were vastly more benign than they have been over the past twelve years, they nevertheless contained the seeds of what was to follow after regime change. This was most evident in the emergence, growth, and ultimately the centrality of sect-centric actors in the pre-2003 Iraqi opposition. By making a link with pre-2003 history, the intention here is not to assign an eternal character or any kind of inevitability to sectarian animosities in Iraq or elsewhere. What has occurred over the past twelve years was neither mandated by preceding events nor, however, was it completely divorced from them. As such, any attempt to understand a subject as complex and as multilayered as sectarian relations in post-2003 Iraq will yield only partial results as long as the broader sweep of modern Iraqi history is ignored.

The Dynamic Between Shia-Centric State Building and Sunni Rejection²

Many terms have been used to describe the toxic salience of sectarian identities in Iraq and elsewhere in the region since 2003. Mention is often made of “sectarianization” or a “sectarian landscape” or that the region has become “sectarian.” As with much of the vocabulary associated with “sectarianism,” the meaning of these terms is open to vastly differing interpretations in that they could refer to anything from sect-centricity to sectarian violence and anything in between.³ Perhaps the simplest way to understand a sectarian environment such as post-2003 Iraq is to view it as one that encourages sect-coding. In such an environment, sectarian identity attains an outsized ability to influence people’s social and political perceptions. As a result, significant actors and events rarely escape sectarian labeling: a political dispute becomes a sectarian dispute, a policy becomes a sectarian policy, a demonstration is invariably labeled a Sunni or Shia one, and so forth.⁴ This is very much the case in Iraq and several other conflict zones in the Middle East in 2015.

While the various causes of the conflicts in Iraq and elsewhere are debatable, what is crucial is that since 2003, there has been a tendency to perceive them as being driven by sectarian identity. This has had a considerable impact on how conflict is perceived by both policymakers and public opinion in the post-2003 Arab world as witnessed by the outsized role of sectarian sentiment in regional mobilization, recruitment, and messaging in Syria, Iraq, and Yemen, and in understandings of regional geopolitical rivalries.⁵ As such, it makes little difference where one draws the line between power politics and sectarian identity in, say, Saudi Arabian–Iranian rivalry, so long as their interplay is viewed and portrayed in such intensely sectarian terms by significant bodies of public opinion and by influential figures. Once such a pattern is in place, it develops a momentum of its own, with both elites and masses driving the sect-codification of ever-increasing facets of social and political life. Rather than sectarian entrepreneurs acting as puppeteers above masses devoid of agency, elites and masses mutually reflect and shape each other in a cyclical way: cynical politicians use sectarian identity to their political advantage but only succeed to the extent that such a strategy resonates with enough people for it to be effective. A Shia Iraqi politician scaremongering the public in 2015 is better placed trying to raise fears of a Baathist coup (code for a Sunni overthrow of the post-2003 order) rather than a Communist one: the former appeals to existing fears, existing sectarian entrenchment, and an existing conflict, whereas the latter—given the demise of Communism as a significant political force in the post–Cold War era—would simply be bizarre.

There is no single factor—least of all the mere fact of sectarian plurality—that could account for the sectarianization of post-2003 Iraq. A cumulative web of perceptual and tangible drivers, spanning the better part of a century, gave birth to and still influence the defining feature of post-2003 Arab Iraq, namely, the tension between Shia-centric state building and Sunni rejection. Firstly, it is important to understand what these terms mean. Rather than fixed, uniformly defined positions, Shia-centric state building and Sunni rejection are two broad spectrums. Sunni rejection refers to the widespread resentment toward the post-2003 order beginning with the U.S.-led invasion and continuing in various forms into the present.⁶ The spectrum runs from ambivalence, or even begrudging acceptance, all the way to anti-state violence.

Underlying this spectrum of Sunni rejection is a latent resentment toward the post-2003 order that in turn is founded on a deep sense of Sunni alienation, a sense of loss, and a sense of victimhood beginning with regime change in 2003.⁷ This sense of resentment does not predetermine attitudes and positions; rather, and as with similar societal cleavages characterized by asymmetric power relations elsewhere in the world, people’s attitudes and positions are constantly shifting. Most people are not ideological hardliners—they react to socioeconomic and political conditions and make their choices accordingly. This can be seen in changing Sunni political behavior and participation in the political process over the years: from the boycott in 2005 to violence to participation in 2009 and 2010 to protest in 2013 and back to violence in 2014–2015.⁸ These shifts have reflected how Sunnis have perceived the permanence or transience of the post-2003 order and the prospects for political progress.

Shia-centric state building is likewise a spectrum. At its most basic, it involves ensuring that the central levers of the state are in Shia hands (and more specifically in Shia-centric hands) and that Shia identities are represented and empowered. This could range from allowing, or even encouraging, Shia symbolism in public spaces to incorporating the Shia calendar into the national calendar for events and holidays, all the way to attempting to endow the state with a Shia identity.⁹ Whatever position a person adopts along this spectrum, the essence of it is that the Iraqi Shia are the Iraqi staatsvolk—Iraq’s constitutive people.

Behind Sunni rejection is a deep sense of alienation, a sense of loss, and a sense of victimhood beginning with regime change in 2003.

As such, one way to understand Shia-centric state building is to view it as an effort to ensure that Shias are the big brother or the senior partner in Iraq’s multicommunal framework. This mind-set is perfectly encapsulated in one of former Iraqi politician Ali Allawi’s recollections in The Occupation of Iraq. In 2005, an internal document was circulated in the United Iraqi Alliance (UIA)—the grand Shia political alliance of the time, of which Allawi was a representative—that outlined a proposed vision for Iraq’s future. The document’s significance lies in the unabashed framing of Iraqi Shias as the new governing class, asserting that, “Iraq is the Shi’a. . . . And the Shi’a are Iraq.” Describing the document, Allawi writes: “It also marked the abandonment of the western ideal of citizenship, in favour of a constellation of lesser sects and ethnicities revolving around a Shi’a sun.”¹⁰ This, rather than classical understandings of state building, is the essence of what is being referred to here as Shia-centric state building: instead of building institutions or constructing the mechanisms of a functioning administrative order, Shia-centric state building has been far more concerned with seizing the remnants of the pre-2003 state and altering its identity so as to reify the concept of the Shias as the Iraqi staatsvolk.

Both spectrums are fluid and inherently inconsistent in that, beyond their extreme ends, the positions and attitudes they embody are implicit rather than explicit. These spectrums have to accommodate and at times compete with older frames of reference and older social and political values that Arab Iraqis have been thoroughly socialized into accepting, including an inclusive Iraqi citizenship, a rejection of “sectarianism,” a commitment to Iraqi unity, and other similar ideals. While these continue to resonate with many ordinary people and while politicians are, at the very least, still obliged to pay lip service to them, the attachment to these ideals has been coming under increasing strain over the past twelve years. It is doubtful that a critical mass of Iraqis has stopped believing in these principles—as has been consistently demonstrated in opinion polls;¹¹ however, despite their continued resonance, these ideals have not been mirrored in Iraqi political and social reality. Consequently, at certain junctures, the perceived interests of the moment render them irrelevant in the face of sect-centric existential fears. Indeed, it is precisely at these junctures—the battles of Fallujah, the spiraling violence of 2006–2007, the Sunni protest movement of 2012–2013, and the fall of Mosul in 2014, to name a few—that, out of conviction or perceived necessity, the mind-sets of Shia-centric state building and Sunni rejection gain broader support at the expense of other conceptions of Iraq.

It seems likely that the dynamic between Shia-centric state building and Sunni rejection will continue into the foreseeable future.

The dynamic between Shia-centric state building and Sunni rejection was evident almost immediately after regime change. Both spectrums emerged very quickly precisely because they fed on preexisting narratives and preexisting elements of Iraqi society. However, the spectrums being referred to here have not resulted in the coalescence of two monolithic, sect-specific camps; rather, what has emerged is a division between two largely sect-specific constellations of actors each internally competing for a sect-specific audience. This is perhaps most clearly visible in political messaging and electoral politics. By 2010, and more so by the time of the 2013 provincial elections and the 2014 parliamentary elections, an intensely segmented electoral scene had emerged, bearing no resemblance to the grand coalitions of 2005.¹² Nevertheless, a Sunni-Shia duality was clearly visible despite the intensity of intra-Sunni and intra-Shia competition: to a considerable extent, the 2010 and the 2013–2014 elections primarily involved two sets of political actors competing for two separate, multilayered constituencies. While issues of class, region, political habit, ideology, and patronage animated intrasectarian competition, the division between the two sets of political actors and constituencies considerably mirrored the sectarian divide with few exceptions.¹³

It seems likely that the dynamic between Shia-centric state building and Sunni rejection will continue into the foreseeable future. There are far too many actors in Iraq and beyond that are thoroughly invested in this dynamic, thereby ensuring its perpetuation. Furthermore, it is difficult to break the cyclical relationship between the two spectrums: as long as the mind-set of Shia-centric state building is in place and is politically empowered, Sunni resentment and rejection will persist; and as long as there is a sense that Sunnis reject the post-2003 order, the mind-set of Shia-centric state building will deepen and gain broader popular acceptance. In both cases, feelings of mistrust, fear, encirclement, and insecurity drive further sectarian entrenchment and stand in the way of compromise and reform.

The Pre-2003 Roots of Post-2003 Sectarianization

Many observers argue that 2003 marks the dividing line separating a sectarian Iraq from a nonsectarian Iraq. According to this view, the sectarian entrenchment of the past twelve years is solely a product of the invasion and subsequent events.¹⁴ An opposing, though no less common and no less narrow, view regards ethnosectarian entrenchment as the default setting of Iraqis: the union of Shias, Sunnis, and Kurds was never voluntary and always required the coercive force of a strong centralized state. Once this was removed, it was only natural—so the argument goes—for Iraqis to succumb to their centrifugal tendencies and innately held animosities.¹⁵

The most obvious tension between the two camps is in their opposing views about the viability of the Iraqi nation-state and the validity, or even existence, of Iraqi nationalism: the former cling to the idea of a transcendent Iraqi nationalism whose otherwise perpetually enduring qualities were only interrupted by the invasion of 2003, while the latter dismiss the Iraqi nation-state in favor of perennially divided Sunnis and Shias (and Kurds). Underscoring the two positions are divergent views as to whether or not Arab Iraq has always been sectarian and whether or not “sectarianism” was a feature of pre-2003 Iraq. From the outset, this debate is doomed to incoherence because of the incoherence of the terminology. If the understanding of “sectarianism” is restricted solely to violent sectarian conflict, widespread sectarian hate, and the empowerment of sect-centric political actors, then yes, 2003 undoubtedly becomes the moment separating a sectarian Iraq from a nonsectarian Iraq. However, such a restrictive approach obscures a far broader spectrum of sectarian competition: if “sectarianism” is taken to include not just the headline-grabbing extremes witnessed over the past twelve years but sect-centric bias, prejudice, stereotypes, or institutional discrimination as well, then “sectarianism” in Iraq and the Arab world dates to far earlier than 2003. That year marked the empowerment of sect-centric political actors and the political institutionalization of Iraq’s sectarian and other communal divides; in Arab Iraq, it marked the beginning of the contest between Shia-centric state building and Sunni rejection. Yet, it is worth asking why sect-centric actors existed in the first place, why they were so well-placed to reap the benefits of regime change, and why Arab Iraq was so susceptible in 2003 to identity politics and to the cycle of Shia-centric state building and Sunni rejection.

Throughout its existence, the modern Iraqi nation-state has struggled to adequately manage communal pluralism. The country’s ethnic, religious, and sectarian diversity was framed in a paradoxical way: state discourse often celebrated it as a defining fact of Iraq while at the same time regarding it with a degree of suspicion as a potential threat to national unity. This applied not only to Iraq’s sectarian divide but also to the state’s relations with other religious and ethnic groups that were suspected of obstructing its conception of Iraq and Iraqi identity, as illustrated by the examples of the Kurds, the Assyrians, and the Jews. This relationship is the product of a history of exclusionary nation building that was based on problematic conceptions of unity and pluralism.¹⁶ Rather than fostering unity or respecting and nurturing pluralism (politically or communally), these concepts were repeatedly used to exclude dissenters whose nonconformity was deemed a threat to the body politic. Be it the Iraqi Nationality Law of 1924, Arabization policies, or the way tabaiyya (dependency) and other concepts were used, time and again citizens were marginalized or excluded on the basis of their identities or their political dissent, all in the name of a very coercive understanding of unity.¹⁷ These tools of exclusion, particularly given that they often relied on the manipulation of communal identities, considerably aided in the process of turning social multiplicity into social division among some Iraqis.

Popular conceptions of unity in the twentieth century often translated into something more akin to a desire for uniformity or conformity. In this framework, unity was not to equally embrace difference under an all-encompassing national meta-identity. Rather, the more commonly seen pattern was the censorship or suppression of difference; the validation of a dominant group’s sense of entitlement to assert its identity, frames of reference, and ownership—culturally and politically—of a country; and a firm expectation that out-groups should accept the status quo and their secondary role in it as an integral part of the natural order of things.

Throughout its existence, the modern Iraqi nation-state has struggled to adequately manage communal pluralism.

These conditions formed the backdrop to sectarian relations prior to 2003 in Iraq. With that in mind, sectarian dynamics between the state’s establishment in 1921 and regime change in 2003 had three key characteristics: First, Iraq had a sectarian issue that was chiefly concerned with state-Shia relations rather than Sunni-Shia relations. Indeed, it can be argued that prior to 2003, Sunnis did not have an active sectarian identity, nor did they regard themselves in sectarian terms.¹⁸ In that sense Iraq’s sectarian issue was a Shia issue, the relevance of which varied considerably from time to time and never bore any resemblance to post-2003 sectarian relations, but it nevertheless existed. Second, sectarian dynamics never overtly challenged the nation-state; sectarian competition took place in the name of and in Iraq, and at no point did any significant sect-centric actor seek to alter borders or contemplate secessionist ideas. Third, while sectarian plurality was accepted—celebrated even—sectarian identity and its expression were viewed negatively to the point of criminalization because the dominant discourse framed them as being detrimental to national unity.¹⁹

Popular conceptions of unity in the twentieth century often translated into something more akin to a desire for uniformity or conformity.

In theory, a secular state may vilify all sectarian identities, thereby acting as an equal opportunity enemy of all active sectarian identities. However, because Sunnis tended not to view themselves in sectarian terms, the issue of “sectarianism” in Iraq was one disproportionately associated with Shias, many of whom felt that state policy pressured them to dilute their sectarian identity. As such, in pre-2003 Iraq, to stigmatize sectarian identity was not to equally stigmatize Sunnis and Shias. As a result, the pre-2003 state’s stance toward “sectarianism” and toward sectarian identities proved to be one of the key drivers behind the growth of a sect-centric Shia political culture, one that was to expand throughout the twentieth century, eventually eclipsing other forms of political activism and ultimately flourishing after 2003. By the same token, the pre-2003 state’s policies toward sectarian relations not only led to the growth of Shia-centric political actors but also laid the foundations of post-2003 Sunni rejection through vilification and national excommunication of the state’s sect-centric opponents.

While it is true that a certain generation of a certain socioeconomic bracket really was oblivious to its own and others’ sectarian identities, what proponents of a purportedly nonsectarian pre-2003 Iraq overlook is that this was unfortunately not the general condition of Arab Iraqi Muslims. The much-lauded secularism of twentieth-century Iraq was, for the most part, an urban phenomenon that was heavily influenced by class. While the facts of coexistence and the absence of overt sectarian conflict—particularly on a societal level—remained undeniable features of twentieth-century Iraq, there was nevertheless from the earliest days of the Iraqi nation-state a Shia issue, the contours of which were essentially related to political representation, the institutional extent of organized Shiism, and the limits of Shia identity in the public space. This was not a case of Shia agitation against a Sunni state; rather, since state establishment in 1921, and unlike their Sunni compatriots, significant sections of Shia society had a politically salient and culturally autonomous sectarian identity that demanded recognition and grated against the modern state’s homogenizing impulses.

It is not that the Iraqi state wanted Shias to abandon Shiism nor was the state anti-Shia per se; rather, it would be far more accurate to argue that the pre-2003 state was suspicious of those whose lives and identities were embedded in Shia social and religious structures (some of which are transnational) that provided parallel truths regarding Iraqi history, the Iraqi self, and the Iraqi nation and that flew in the face of the state’s narrative of Iraq. As such, social and political mobility were more readily available to Shias who were unencumbered by these parallel truths and whose Shia sectarian identity was as invisible as Sunni sectarian identity.²⁰ Successive governments were unwilling or unable to accommodate a salient or active Shia identity, often regarding it—and the semiautonomous structures underpinning it—with suspicion. This was to become especially pronounced under the Baath who, due to rising internal and external challenges (both real and perceived), persecuted Shia religious figures, banned major Shia rituals, and suppressed Shia activism and the expression of Shia identity. In many ways, the Shia issue was a contestation over the relationship between Shia-Iraqi identity and an unhyphenated, state-approved, Iraqi identity and consequently the place and role of Iraqi Shias in state and society.

The pre-2003 state was suspicious of those whose lives and identities were embedded in Shia social and religious structures that provided parallel truths.

From the earliest days of the modern Iraqi nation-state, there were instances of certain Shia politicians, leaders, and organizations advocating for specifically Shia issues—with little in terms of a Sunni counterpart, thereby further entrenching the association of “sectarianism” with Shias. For example, as early as April 1922, Mahdi al-Khalisi—a militant, though far from marginal, Shia cleric known for his opposition to the government—made a series of political demands that, alongside demands for complete Iraqi independence from the United Kingdom, included calls for half the cabinet to be composed of Shias and half of all government officials to be Shias.²¹ Similarly, in the 1920s, the short-lived and avowedly Shia-centric al-Nahdha Party emerged, championing the causes of Shia rights and Shia representation.²² Another example can be found in the People’s Pact (Mithaq al-shaab) of 1935. Addressed to King Ghazi, Iraq’s second monarch, this document was signed by tribal and religious leaders from the mid-Euphrates region and by Shia lawyers in the capital demanding, among other issues unrelated to sectarian identities, that Shias be better represented in government and that Shia jurisprudence be represented in the judiciary.²³

These examples do not preclude other strands of Shia opinion and political activism, and they should not be taken as proof of hostility or interminable division. Rather, such examples reflect many Shias’ latent resentment against the pre-2003 state. Regardless of whether this was a product of reality or perception, the inescapable fact is that, throughout pre-2003 Iraq’s existence, some sections of Shia society firmly believed that they were treated as second-class citizens on account of their sectarian identity as evidenced, they would argue, by the political underrepresentation compared to their demographic weight and the suppression of their sectarian identity. Indeed, this resentment was commented upon by Iraq’s first monarch, Faisal I, who, writing in 1932, argued that the causes of Shia disadvantage were due to structural and historical reasons (such as their distance from the centers of government or their lack of state education and hence their lack of qualification for government office) rather than sectarian discrimination, but that this had nevertheless “led this majority [Shias] . . . to claim that they continue to be oppressed simply by being Shi’a.”²⁴

It is this belief that led to the emergence of sect-centric Shia political movements. Until at least the 1960s these were rather marginal and were overshadowed by more popular movements, such as the Iraqi Communist Party, that fought for broader conceptions of social justice beyond the prism of religious or sectarian identity. Over the decades, however, several factors conspired to reverse that. The state’s ever-increasing authoritarianism was accompanied by an intensification of Shia activism both qualitatively and quantitatively.²⁵ This resulted in the sharpening of the state’s suspicions of political Shiism and of the mobilization of Shia identity that in turn served to deepen Shia resentment and broaden support for Shia-centric movements.

By the 1970s, Shia political activism was becoming more outspoken and more brazen, resulting in increasingly violent confrontations with the state.

By the 1970s, Shia political activism was becoming more outspoken and more brazen, resulting in increasingly violent confrontations with the state. Several disturbances were witnessed in the 1970s, most notably the violent clampdown of Shia processions in 1977 and the disturbances of 1979.²⁶ This escalation was partly shaped by the regional environment and deteriorating relations with Iran—naturally this downward spiral only accelerated after the Iranian revolution of 1979. The demise of Arab nationalism and communism as popular mobilizers and