Hewlêr: Erbil is becoming Al-Arbil and Silêmanî Al-Sulaymaniyeh

Hewler: Erbil is becoming Al-Arbil and Silemani Al-Sulaymaniyeh — Sulaimaniyah International Airport, Sulaimani city, Iraqo Kurdistan, 2024. The name changed to Jalal Talabani International Airport on March 19, 2026. Photo: K24

Scherco R. Baban | Exclusive to iKurd.net

This article was written on January 6, 2011. I originally sent it to an English magazine in Erbil called IKP (International Kurdish Press), but it was never published. I found the draft in an old email a few days ago, and I believe it is still worth reading to compare our current situation in the Kurdistan Region with that of 2011.

On Thursday night, a day before New Year’s Eve 2011, I went out with friends to a trendy spot in central Erbil: Speedy Center. We were there to enjoy the evening and socialize in a festive atmosphere.

The night started perfectly. The DJ was talented, spinning a wide variety of music in several languages. However, the mood shifted when one of my friends suggested we hear some Kurdish music. He approached the DJ and asked for just one or two Kurdish songs.

To our utter shock, the DJ responded that playing Kurdish music was “forbidden.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. I asked my friend to repeat the question, but the answer remained the same. We were stunned. The DJ, originally from war-torn Baghdad—where Iranian-style bans on Western music were then flourishing—wouldn’t even have been allowed to “DJ” in his home city at the time. Yet, he came to tolerant Kurdistan, where he was embraced with open arms, only to forbid us from hearing our own language in our own capital.

What Did We Fight For?

I found myself asking: What did we fight for? Did we fight merely for commercial shopping malls? Did we fight so that foreigners could live in “English,” “Canadian,” or “Martian” villages while refusing even to use the constitutional name of our region—Kurdistan—preferring instead the term “Northern Iraq”? Have we reached a point where our own language is considered “unfashionable” or “not in”?

Did our Peshmerga fight so that Kurdish would become a secondary language only spoken by the “uncool” peasants, or the families of the martyrs? I want to ask the President of the Kurdistan Region:

“Your Excellency, did you lose half of your family and your loved ones only to allow people who hate us to succeed at cultural assimilation through ‘democratic’ means where they failed with military force?”

Many of those now flooding into our safe and prosperous region once denied the former regime’s use of weapons of mass destruction against our people. Now, we allow them to deny us the very name of Kurdistan and the use of our mother tongue. What happened? Was it Kurdistan we fought for, or was it the “defter”—the $10,000 stacks of cash?

A Matter of Identity

Let me ask a simple question to any honest person: Would anyone dare forbid English in London? Or Turkish in Istanbul? It would be unthinkable to forbid Swedish in liberal Stockholm. So why do we allow it here?

Costa Rica Cafe, Erbil, Iraqi Kurdistan. Photo: X

As I walk the streets of Erbil, I see signs in every language imaginable. While Kurdish is still repressed in neighboring countries, here in our capital, it is being sidelined by choice. I heard the Governor of Erbil encouraged shopkeepers to decorate for Christmas festivities. While I am a big fan of Christmas, I would much rather see him mandate that Kurdish be included on every shop sign in the city.

The next day, my friends and I went for coffee at a place called Costa Rica Cafe. Once again, we were met with a menu written only in Arabic and English. There was no Kurdish to be found. Someone replied sarcastically, “Kurdish is not fashionable.”

A Disappointing Future?

Congratulations, Peshmerga! We have successfully turned Erbil into Al-Arbil, a second Dubai—at the cost of our own identity.

A few days later, I left Al-Arbil for the “Ostan of Al-Sulaymaniyah,” formerly known as Silêmanî, the crown jewel of the Babans. I was equally disappointed. What does the future hold for us? Will we have any place left that we can truly call home? Will we have Peshmerga willing to fight for it for real, or will we place that burden on the international community? What if they don´t?

I hope my fears are wrong, and I hope the studies of professor Robert D. Putnam about diversity and multiethnicity societies from a few years ago are also wrong—but I am just saying.

Scherco R. Baban, an independent researcher and analyst specializing in Kurdish Question and The Middle Eastern security, economical and cultural dynamics.

The opinions are those of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of iKurd.net or its editors.