Iraq’s flag flies over Ramadi again. Never mind that it is the flag of a divided and weakened country which may or may not ever again be a united nation in the sense that it once was. Nor that Ramadi itself is no great prize. It was badly damaged in the fighting that preceded its seizure by Islamic State forces in May, much of what was left has been destroyed during the campaign to recapture the city, and some areas may still be under Isis control. Bringing back its displaced population will be difficult and reviving the wider economy of its hinterland even harder. Nor can a fresh Isis takeover be ruled out, as Hoshiyah Zebari, an Iraqi minister, warned after news of the victory reached Baghdad.
And yet this is an important victory all the same. First, it is an example of the kind of co-ordinated effort by Iraqi forces and coalition aircraft that has been seen only sporadically before. Second, it has been achieved by the Iraqi army, acting without the support of the Shia militias which has proved so problematic in earlier advances, like that toward Tikrit, because their presence, and sometimes their behaviour, has alienated the Sunni population. If the air-ground cooperation represents the technical military key to dealing with Isis, the exclusion of the militias is the political key.
It is to be followed, the Iraqis say, by a partial handover of security to tribal forces in Anbar province: Sunnis will defend Sunnis and Sunnis will police Sunnis. This is a step in the right direction. There are parallels with the Sunni awakening, which enabled the Americans and Iraqis to turn the tide against al-Qaida in 2006, and indeed, this time round, American soldiers have returned to Anbar province to try to repeat that success. They have come in far smaller numbers, and with far fewer resources. There must be serious doubts that what was possible at the height of the American surge will again be possible today. But it is also true that the Iraqi government may this time have learned the lesson it refused to learn in the years after the awakening, when it reneged on the promises it had made to the Sunnis, wriggled out of commitments to integrate Sunni fighters into the national forces, and stopped paying the subsidies that sustained those fighters, the so-called Sons of Iraq. It was this betrayal, we can see clearly in retrospect, that finally broke Iraq and prepared the way for Isis.
It would be foolish to take Ramadi as some sort of early tipping point against Isis. The truth is that we simply don’t know. But this movement does depend on creating a pervasive sense of its unstoppability, on making people believe that it is making history. One reverse will hardly stop it in its tracks, but if it is followed by more, perceptions of its success and its chances of permanence could change. The next step in Iraq could be a drive on Fallujah, where the position of Isis has been weakened by the fall of Ramadi. But the real challenge for Baghdad will be Mosul. Ramadi and Fallujah are small places, Mosul is a big city.
It is a city under occupation and no doubt many people there chafe at the exactions, the brutalities, and the arbitrariness of Isis rule. But how to convince the population there that the government in Baghdad could become a government for all Iraqis, while not undermining any such change in feeling by inflicting high civilian casualties, is a hard problem for the future.
What will be hardest of all to undermine is the Isis story, which is that Islam is under attack, has been for centuries, and that now is the moment for Muslims to rise up and dedicate themselves to its defence. Particularly effective among disenchanted and marginalised Muslims, although not necessarily poor or ill-educated ones, this is a narrative that has powerful appeal. If and when physical control of Isis territories is wrested from them, that narrative will survive, but it will be weakened. That must be the ultimate aim and Ramadi, it is to be hoped, is a small step along that road.
