The memory of ordinary, everyday intercultural or interreligious relationships, in brief 
Baghdad has historically been a home to the range of religious denominations and cultural groups present in Iraq, Shia, Sunni, Jewish, Assyrian/Chaldean/Syriac, Armenian, Kurdish, Yazidi, Turkmen, Shabak and Mandeans. While a number of these populations have gravitated to particular quarters, over the past century at least, most Baghdadis have lived in mixed neighbourhoods. We will be adding more detailed presentations on these neighbourhoods, such as Risala (which had a mixed Shia and Sunni population, with some Christians before the advent of Al Qaeda), Dora (particularly known for its Christian population), Al-Bataween (where many Jews moved in the twentieth century), Al-Adhamiya and Kadhamiya (both mixed Sunni-Shia neighbourhoods, particularly associated with one or other sect), soon. 

Many autobiographical reports speak of the ways in which local friendships between Christians, Muslims, Jews and others were cherished, how important they were in neighbourhood life, and in individual lives. Schools were increasingly shared over the twentieth century, friends worked together, ran businesses together, traded, socialised in cafes and through musical or other cultural events. Though the Ottoman millet system had encouraged separation and even competition, it also encouraged careful attention to common points of meeting, and figures from different religious communities were deliberately involved in political life. In Baghdad, the multi-confessional sphere was strengthened by the degree to which people from all communities have shared Arabic schooling and culture – while also embracing the cosmopolitan languages and connections of the day, once Turkish, then English and French. 

Political change and upheaval has repeatedly created antagonism across communities – and at the same time many ordinary citizens recall in each period that they did not let this get in the way of their everyday solidarities. This was not just true of professionals, politicians, or the commercial sector, it was also reflected in connections between the poorest citizens, and across religious communities. One of the best known shared holy sites has been the shrine to Al-Khidr on the Tigris, at which Shia, Sunni and Christians pray and make wishes. Less well attended are the Shrine of Guru Nanak, next to the tomb of the celebrated Sufi Sheikh Bahlool Dana, in Sheikh Marouf cemetery, a marker of the historical space for interfaith dialogue in Baghdad, and the house of Baháʼu’lláh, the nineteenth century founder of the Baha’i Faith, in Kadhamiya, destroyed in 2013.

In these mixed neighbourhoods, citizens across the denominations resisted sectarianism after 2003, as Namariq Al-Rawi outlines in ‘Baghdad Neighbourhoods’. These efforts involved the creation of self-defence organisations and the promotion of cooperation between non-sectarian religious leaders in order to ensure protection of local people of different identities. Al-Rawi writes: ‘Such responses were driven by attachment to their neighborhood, collective memories, and the unwillingness to abandon social bonds, as well as the presence of local non-sectarian religious leaders who assisted in deescalating tensions through forbidding sectarian attacks and declaring that the neighbors of different doctrines were under their protection.’ This also helped in some of the neighborhoods which have been able to open up to returnees in the last decade. To give but one example of this as context: The area Al-Adhamiyah – a Sunni island in Shiite East Baghdad – was 85% Sunni 15% Shia before 2006. Many long-established Sunni residents went abroad and either locked their homes or arranged for trusted Sunni neighbors to guard them against displaced Sunni newcomers. In 2008, two sheikhs, a Sunni from Adhamiya and a Shi’ite from Kadhamiya, spearheaded reconciliation efforts. They helped reopen the bridge in November that year and to restore ties between the areas. The sway of these local leaders was critical, Al-Rawi notes, to the ability of the local population to draw a line ad start again, even as injustices faced by victims of violence and property theft or destruction were often not dealt with.

The context in which these relationships made a difference at the time 
In Ottoman Baghdad, religious communities were structurally set apart and this created pressure for competition between them. The antagonisms and injustices that resulted continued to mark Baghdad history after the Ottomans were replaced by British rule and then by independent governments. The plight of minorities in many respects worsened at times of political crisis. To have relationships across the communities was nevertheless consistently a valued and useful asset for many Baghdadis from the range of religious communities. In some respects, these relationships could be seen as private, and individuals might show their solidarity for their friends in an entirely private way by showing respect for their religious customs at significant occasions. These solidarities might also be more public, even political, as with the Muslim Baghdadis who have engaged in acts of solidarity with Christians in the last decade, who have stood in front of churches to protect them from extremists, also supporting the renewal of church life, and publicly celebrating Christmas as a rebuke to the intolerant.

What has happened since, which makes the memory valuable 
Baghdadis and the diaspora of families who have left the city in waves over the past century value these memories for many reasons. The fact that interreligious mixing was so normal is often made as a point of contrast to the conflict and intolerance which time and again has broken this tolerant aspect of civic life in the city. The loss of neighbourly contacts is also often expressed by Baghdadis, with regret. To give one colourful example of this expression, which could be repeated many times over, Dawn Chatty (2018, 209) spoke to a Christian who fled Baghdad for Damascus. Muna spoke to her of the importance of the feelings that existed between neighbours, that they cared because they had grown up together, and that was what she personally most felt the loss of. 

How might the memory be used in bringing people together in practice now? 
The Memory Bank team will be very glad to receive ideas about how these memories can be used in bringing people together – in the context of community-building, or peace-building; in developing social, cultural and economic projects; or in developing better understanding about the place of everyday intercultural relationships in the life of communities. 

Additional context/Some additional reading
Namariq Al-Rawi, ‘Baghdad Neighborhoods: Processes of Resilience against the Internally-reflected Conflict of 2006–2008’, 2019. https://trafo.hypotheses.org/19840

Dawn Chatty, The Making and Unmaking of a Refuge State, 2018
Marina Benjamin, Last Days in Babylon, 2007.
https://rememberbaghdad.com/
http://sites.jmemories.co.il/iraqijews/

https://www.facebook.com/JimenaArabic/videos/2535742841718062