Shia groups are clashing in Iraqi capital and across country after struggle for power spilled to streets

A s night fell over Baghdad on Monday, many Iraqis wondered whether their country would wake up to a new civil war. Much of the city stayed up sleepless, listening to the sound of heavy machine gun fire, mortars and rocket-propelled grenades that echoed across the deserted streets.

“The air conditioner was blasting away, but we still couldn’t sleep. It was as if we were on a battlefield,” said Dina al-Saadi, a university professor who lives in a neighbourhood near the heaviest fighting.

Iraq has been on a collision course for months. After deepening political tensions between rival Shia parties paralysed the formation of a new government, the struggle for power spilled on to the streets as heavy fighting erupted between supporters of populist Shia cleric Muqtada al-Sadr and Iran-aligned groups in the heart of the green zone, an ultra-secure area home to embassies and government institutions.

The clashes roused memories of the deadly chaos that engulfed Baghdad’s streets in the wake of the 2003 invasion, stoking fears of renewed violence. “You immediately think back to 2004,” Saadi said. “There is no security, there is no protection, there is no state. Who will protect us?”

Almost 20 years after the US invasion, Iraq is still struggling to find peace. The latest crisis has once again laid bare the weakness of its institutions and the fragility of the post-2003 political order.

At the heart of the conflict is a struggle for power between the country’s elites. Since 2003, Iraq has been ruled by consensus, with ministerial positions divided among Shia, Sunni and Kurdish parties through a sectarian power-sharing formula that ensured equitable access to resources. But the practice has institutionalised corruption and hollowed out a once functioning bureaucracy that is now unable to deliver the most basic services.

Mass protests erupted in 2019, calling for an overhaul of the political system. In response, the government held early elections in October last year. But rather than paving the way for change, the vote brought a new crisis.

Sadr emerged victorious and, claiming to want reform, tried to form a majority government without his Iran-aligned Shia opponents. His rivals saw the move as a power grab, while many Iraqis blame both sides for bickering over government posts at the expense of ordinary citizens.

“They are all just looking out for their own interests. None of them are thinking about Iraq,” said Saadi, rattling off a list of grievances including the dilapidated state of Iraq’s infrastructure and the declining quality of higher education.

The clashes began moments after Sadr announced his withdrawal from politics on Monday, effectively giving his supporters carte blanche to vent their anger. Sadr’s devout base consists of hundreds of thousands of Iraqis who hail from the poorest segments of society, but he also commands a militia called Saraya al-Salam. On the opposing side are powerful armed wings of Iran-aligned parties, most notably Asa’ib Ahl al-Haq.

Staccato machine gun fire, interspersed with deep thuds of rocket-propelled-grenades, continued to ring out in central Baghdad on Tuesday. Security forces were stationed on major streets, but they did not seem to intervene in the clashes between the rival Shia forces, who had set up positions at opposing sides of the green zone.

“We are fighting the corrupt militias while the government security forces are watching,” said the Sadr supporter Abbas Ali as smoke filled the sky in the distance.

There was an eerie routine to the chaos. Neighbourhoods had been sealed off with concrete barriers to enforce the curfew, with bored soldiers checking ID cards to make sure only residents were allowed through. Streets that would usually be clogged with traffic were nearly empty, except for vehicles ferrying young men to the frontlines.

“People are used to this,” said the bystander Rashwan Fouad as he lit a cigarette. “Iraq has been through so much. This is nothing but a snapshot in our history.”

Commercial life had meanwhile ground to a halt, with only a few shops open for business in a country where most people subsist on daily wages. “We just want to live. Everyone has a family, everyone has rent to pay,” said Abdallah, a shopkeeper and father of three who had defied the curfew in hopes of earning a living. His usual commute of 20 minutes had taken him two hours on foot.

As he spoke, the television in the corner began airing a live press conference, in which Sadr condemned the violence. The cleric’s reconciliatory tone appeared to signal a path towards de-escalation. “Thank God,” said Abdalla, breathing a sigh of relief. “We just want a peaceful solution.”