Exclusive Interview with Waterkeeper Nabil Musa

The reality is that despite presenting clear evidence, denial persists. Iraq is facing severe desertification and is ranked among the five most vulnerable countries in the world. Since the 1990s, there has been no proper plan to manage rainfall or contamination, and the consequences are everywhere — from the disappearance of birds in the skies to the drying of rivers. 

The “Vanishing Rivers” exhibition was never meant to say we don’t know what to do; it was our way of speaking out, of showing that action is possible. Through exhibitions, music, research, and even counting dams, we try to raise awareness. Yet cultural denial remains strong. Many officials still treat it as if we are exaggerating, but the situation is no joke. Children in Basra are dying of thirst, even though 80 percent of Iraq’s water flows through that region. Pollution from 19 cities ended there, and in 2018 alone, 2,200 people were hospitalized in just two days. That crisis attracted the attention of the BBC, which interviewed me. 

As waterkeepers, we know the scale of this problem — it’s not only Iraqi, it’s global. What happens in Tanjaro echoes in London, though in different forms. Decades of war have devastated both people and the environment. I grew up seeing billions of birds; now they are gone. The Iran-Iraq war, the Anfal campaign, and Saddam’s policies destroyed not only Kurdish lives but also the rivers, mountains, and villages that define our indigenous identity. We never truly recovered from the 1980s, and even after gaining some control, we made mistakes that worsened the damage. That history is what drives me to speak out — someone must. 

I already lost my childhood river — it’s gone, and people have normalized that loss. Today, 82 percent of Iraq’s water comes from neighboring countries, and instead of preparing sustainable solutions, we built dams that only made things worse. Fresh water on this planet is limited; it was designed by nature to flow freely. When we block it with thousands of dams, it’s like causing a heart attack in the body — the earth’s lifeblood is clotted. 

This isn’t just Iraq’s problem. Whether you live in Scotland or Australia, we are all on the same boat. Yet too often people treat it as if it’s only my problem, my funeral. It’s a shared crisis, and the next generation is at risk of accepting dry riverbeds as normal — which would mean a permanent erasure of our water culture. 

It was about powerful politicians and businessmen — a kind of authority that operates above the law. Iraq has strong environmental laws, but they are not applied equally. Those refineries were protected by political interests, not by a lack of legislation. 

To give you an example, politicians from south Iraq are often invited to the mountains for hunting trips, sometimes even to test new weapons, and these kinds of favors create a culture of impunity. Since 2014, our team has been volunteering to monitor petroleum activities, and we continue to check the results of the refineries, including this week. The fight has always been against entrenched power, not against the absence of rules. 

The biggest obstacle is not the absence of laws, but the fact that they are applied selectively. Iraq actually has strong environmental legislation, but enforcement is undermined by powerful networks— who operate above the law. For ordinary people, the law applies; for them, it does not. 

Another challenge is lack of awareness. Many lawyers and citizens don’t even realize that these good laws exist, so they aren’t used effectively. Funding is also limited, which makes it harder to pursue legal cases. 

Take the Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) process as an example. In principle, every company or project should undergo this assessment before opening, with government and NGOs reviewing the environmental risks. In practice, most businesses bypass it illegally. I would estimate that 99 percent of reports are fraudulent. Even basic gas stations in the cities cannot pass a proper EIA. We wrote the laws, but we don’t practice them — and that gap between paper and reality is the core of the problem. 

Water theft is happening globally, and neighboring countries controlling our rivers is a relatively new challenge compared to Iraq’s long history. It is fair to blame Iran for restricting the Sirwan River through the Daryan Dam, but the Iraqi government also has responsibilities it cannot ignore. 

For example, in Sulaymaniyah this year, much of the water shortage was not only due to external control but also internal mismanagement. Between 60 to 90 percent of local water was diverted to businessmen constructing apartment complexes, because concrete requires enormous amounts of water. This misuse worsened the crisis. 

Another problem is how we treat tap water as the single source for everything — drinking, irrigation, even car washing. We should separate rainwater, irrigation water, and drinking water instead of mixing them all together. Without reforming these practices, blaming Iran alone becomes an excuse that hides Iraq’s own failures. 

Yes, Iraq is repeating the same mistakes as Iran. We continue to build dams, but dams divide people, rivers, and ecosystems, while bridges connect them. Dams disrupt fisheries and alter both the quality and quantity of water. 

I remember traveling by Kurdish boat from Hasan Cave, the source of the Tigris, all the way to Basra in six days. Along that journey, you pass through countless communities without borders or conflict — people connected by the river. In places like Diyarbakir, people speak three languages fluently because rivers connect cultures as much as they sustain life. That history shows how rivers are meant to unite us, yet we are now repeating the same destructive path. 

In modern countries, building dams is no longer considered a solution. In hot climates like ours, dams actually cause more water loss than storage, just as Iran discovered. We are following the same failed model. What we need instead are underground dams and underground lakes, which are far more effective for water management in this region. 

For many farmers, it is indeed a belief that water is a gift from God and should not be priced. That cultural mindset is strong, but the problem is also institutional. We already have regulations that could guide farmers toward modern irrigation systems, even using AI-based methods to make water use more efficiently. Yet these laws are rarely practiced because of weak governance. 

The government itself struggles with basic issues like paying salaries, so farmers see irrigation rules as irrelevant or even illegal, and they ignore them. As a result, we are draining underground water reserves after already abusing surface water — something we should never do. 

We are living in an age of crisis where we are literally sucking the earth to dry. When I left Iraq, the population was about 18 million; now it has grown to over 50 million and continues to rise. With that growth, the quality and quantity of water have collapsed. In many ways, water is already “finished” for us, and without urgent change, the crisis will only deepen. 

Yes, the same pattern exists in Iraq. The government is afraid to confront illegal well-digging because it risks angering powerful tribes. Enforcement barely exists in these areas. 

I can give you many examples. In Hauija and Riyad, a friend of mine who works as a marsh keeper was kidnapped by his own tribe for nearly two weeks simply because he spoke out about marshes and irrigation systems in a legal context. He was nearly killed for trying to uphold the law. 

I also have videos showing tribes fighting each other with heavy weapons over shared lakes. These conflicts are already happening, but they are not being covered in the news. The war over water has started — it just isn’t being acknowledged publicly. 

Of course, internal political tensions make the water crisis worse.  Ten years ago, it was suggested that water be used as a political tool in negotiations between Baghdad and KRI over salary issues. How can water — the source of life — be used as a political weapon? That kind of thinking shows the weakness of our leadership. 

As a Kurd, I work for water everywhere, including the southern Marshes, and I have been recognized for that. But I also tell people clearly: my state is as corrupt as yours. I cry for your environment, and I ask you to do the same for mine. This work is more important than building schools or mosques — because if we don’t stop the pollution, we will keep pulling dead bodies out of rivers instead of preventing the causes of death. 

I remind authorities that in the 1980s and 1990s, we only had one hospital in the region, and it was nearly empty. There were fewer illnesses then because nature was healthier. Neglecting nature has brought us to this crisis. The Iraqi government knows that our fight is not for one region or one people—it is for every citizen of this planet. Water is a global problem, and everyone must share responsibility. 

I became a water activist because of the war. When I left Iraq and went to the UK, I said, "I am here because of your strategy to sell weapons to my country." What we are doing to ourselves is worse than what anyone else does to us. We solve problems only temporarily, and corruption worsens it. For example, when companies are required to pass environmental assessments, some owners simply negotiate for fake papers because the real process is “too costly.” That is the reality we face. 

One of Iraq’s biggest problems is that we don’t even recognize the scale of the crisis we are facing. War, corruption, and endless conflict have created so much “noise pollution” that the government cannot clearly see the environmental disaster unfolding. My advice to the Prime Minister is simple: first, acknowledge the problem. If we cannot see it, we cannot solve it. 

It may already be late, but starting now is still better than ever. We are living surrounded by garbage, even in our food. There is a saying: a customer buys a fish at the market and asks the seller to put it in a plastic bag. The seller replies, “It’s already inside the fish.” That is the reality of our contamination today.