The memory of ordinary, everyday intercultural or interreligious relationships, in brief 

Christians, Muslims and Jews lived together in Zakho for a long time. The city was a major trading centre and through all periods of its history citizens mixed in the vibrant market. For much of its history, communities of different denominations have spoken and prayed amongst themselves in their own languages – Kurdish, Armenian, Neo-Aramaic and Hebrew – and also conversed together freely in Kurmanji. Residents shared cultural and religious myths which passed between communities so that Jews learned Muslim lore, and Muslims learned Jewish tradition. During the twentieth century, the context in which friendships have formed has often been through the institutions created by the state – schools, local government, the army. We hope many more different memories from Zakho’s recent past will be shared through this Memory Bank.

The context in which these relationships made a difference at the time 

We want to know more about the changing contexts in which Intercultural and interreligious relationships were valued in Zakho across the centuries. 

Some accounts stress the interdependence of communities, because of trading relationships, or because the communities in the town were educated to use their learning for the benefit of wider communities in the region, as teachers and officials. Others start with an account of the dominant political, religious and linguistic culture in Zakho at a given time, with minorities being protected, accommodated and adapting. The importance of the protection of minorities is described in very personal terms – when Jews were the object of attack, they were defended by local Muslims because they were a part of the community (Haya Gavish, Unwitting Zionists: The Jewish Community of Zakho in Iraqi Kurdistan, p.334; Mordechai Zaken, Jewish Subjects and Their Tribal Chieftains in Kurdistan, p.312). 

Some accounts stress the role of personal friendships across families of different backgrounds – of friendships made at work, for instance, or in army service. Muslims and Christians might attend occasions when each others’ significant life events were marked, whether it be congratulating each other on religious festivals or attending funerals – entirely on the basis of friendship, not as a marker of a particular religious understanding. The trust built up in these friendships might mean that families brought down the ‘wall’ that they would normally keep up to protect their family honour. This might mean that Jews, Christians and Muslims would extend to each other the courtesy of being like an extended family, and the trust this implies would mean a lot. It might, for instance, mean more relaxed conversations between men and women were acceptable than would be the case for outsiders. 

Historically, the town faced recurrent threats from outside forces, producing a solidarity among residents of different backgrounds. Zakho’s history also witnessed violence and discrimination which were experienced unequally by its citizens. There is a rich history that will provide many different examples of ordinary solidarity and friendship, and the Memory Bank project aims to draw in testimonies that speak to the wide range of perspectives on this history that matter today to those who live there, or whose families once lived there.

What has happened since, which makes the memory valuable 

Extremism has divided the experience of Zakho’s communities: Muslims were oppressed, Jews had to flee, and Christians were abandoned to a brutal fate at the hands of Daesh/the Islamic State. 

Economic development has also been uneven, which makes for greater separation between townspeople and the surrounding villages. Christian teachers who once travelled to teach in village schools were prevented from doing so by the IS incursion. The strength of the relationships they had is a memory now – and its value may now be discussed as a marker of changing objective conditions, rather than on the basis of particular personal relationships.

For members of the Jewish community who fled to Israel and further afield, the memory of good relationships with their Christian and Muslim neighbours in Zakho and in the region contrasts with their experience of the Iraqi state, which turned against its Jewish population, and of the State of Israel, which funnelled Kurdish Jewish immigrants into resettlement camps and marginal townships, for whom job opportunities would be likely to be as manual labourers. A sense of this contrast is given in Ariel Sabar, My Father’s Paradise: A Son’s Search for His Jewish Past in Kurdish Iraq.

If you have memories to share, please do also consider sharing why the memory is valuable now, being as realistic and as personal as you see fit.

How might the memory be used in bringing people together in practice now? 

Zakho’s past teaches that hostility on the grounds of culture or religion was not the norm. It teaches that also under extreme regimes ordinary people built close friendships which made solidarity possible. Because these were personal friendships, they could accommodate their differences without discomfort, without a sense anything was wrong. We would like to share reflections from anyone sharing memories: In what ways do you see the memories of Zakho’s multicultural and multireligious solidarities can be used, perhaps in teaching about the value of cultural heritage and diversity, or to promote peace and understanding, or to teach lessons about small-scale, local social and economic cooperation?

Additional context/Some additional reading

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zakho
Ariel Sabar, My Father’s Paradise: A Son’s Search for His Jewish Past in Kurdish Iraq, 2008.
Ariel Sabar speaks of his life and his understanding of the relationship between Jews, Christians and Muslims in Zakho and its region in this 45-minute film: https://www.loc.gov/item/webcast-4530