Spoiled by the coil: Iraq's mines battles take their toll
Shafaq News/ In a remote village near the Iranian border in Maysan province, 14-year-old Qusay Salman and his older brother, Hussein, were simply on an errand to fetch water. But with one step, Qusay’s life was tragically cut short when he triggered a hidden landmine. The explosion took him instantly, while Hussein was left with a shattered leg.
Their story is just one of many in Iraq, where an estimated 25 million landmines and unexploded remnants of war (ERWs) still lie buried beneath the earth, silently claiming lives. Across the country, these deadly relics from past conflicts continue to inflict a toll on the innocent, making the land a silent battleground long after the guns have fallen silent.
A Deadly Map
Iraq is home to one of the world’s most deadly and expansive minefields. Over 2,100 square kilometers of land remain tainted by landmines, cluster munitions, and improvised explosive devices (IEDs), posing an ongoing threat to civilians and hindering the country’s efforts to recover and rebuild.
The spread of these deadly remnants traces the scars of Iraq’s turbulent past, with each region carrying the marks of a different conflict.
In the south, the consequences of the Iran–Iraq War still haunt the landscape. During the 1980s, the Iraqi military planted thousands of mines, primarily Soviet-made TM-46 and PMN models, across Basra, Maysan, and Wasit in an attempt to block Iranian forces. Decades later, much of this land remains unsafe.
In Basra alone, over 1,200 square kilometers are still contaminated, with some areas, like the Shatt al-Arab district, remaining un-surveyed since the 1990s. This leaves local communities at constant risk, their daily lives shaped by the threat of hidden explosives beneath their feet.
As we move inland, the story shifts to the aftermath of the 2003 US-led invasion and the insurgency that followed. The use of IEDs by insurgent groups became widespread across al-Anbar, Saladin, and Baghdad, creating unmarked minefields throughout urban and rural areas.
In Fallujah, where families are slowly returning after years of displacement, many discover their homes rigged with explosives buried in walls, floors, and furniture.
The impact is staggering; according to the United Nations Mine Action Service (UNMAS), nearly 16% of al-Anbar’s farmland remains off-limits due to contamination, crippling both agriculture and reconstruction efforts.
The North tells a different, even more complex story. Between 2014 and 2017, as ISIS took control of Nineveh and Sinjar, the group left behind a trail of destruction, rigging homes, roads, and fields with mines and booby traps.
In Mosul, the remnants are so dense that clearance teams have reported up to 8,000 explosive hazards per square kilometer, one of the highest concentrations in the world.
In the Kurdistan Region, cross-border airstrikes from Turkiye and Iran regularly scatter unexploded ordnance (UXOs) in areas like Al-Amediya, Sidakan, and Qandil, complicating already the difficult clearance efforts and adding to the peril that local communities face.
Rebar Mahmoud, head of operations at the Iraqi Kurdistan Mine Action Agency (IKMAA), describes the task of clearing these explosive remnants as a multi-layered challenge. “We’re dealing with at least four layers of contamination,” he explains. “It’s like peeling back time; from Saddam’s wars, to the American occupation, ISIS, and now the airstrikes. Each era has left its own signature of destruction.”
A Generation at Risk
Since 2004, Iraq’s Ministry of Health has documented at least 14,835 civilian casualties from explosive remnants, with over 5,000 fatalities. Yet, experts from organizations like the Geneva International Centre for Humanitarian Demining (GICHD) and the Iraqi Civil Society Initiative (ICSI) caution that these numbers may only scratch the surface. They estimate that the true toll could be closer to 20,000, a reflection of the significant underreporting in remote and tribal areas, where access remains limited.
The impact of this crisis is striking, especially when examining recent data. In just the first quarter of 2024, 16 children were harmed by unexploded ordnance. Tragically, this trend mirrors the previous year, which saw 38 child fatalities and 47 injuries from the same cause.
Shockingly, minors under the age of 18 account for 41% of all casualties. These young victims endure injuries ranging from amputations and severe burns to deep lacerations and other life-altering wounds. Yet the true cost goes far beyond the physical. For many, the psychological trauma runs deeper, leaving invisible scars that linger long after the blast.
Rami, a 12-year-old survivor from Mosul, spoke of the ongoing terror that shadows his every step, "I can’t sleep without hearing the explosion in my head. I wake up in the middle of the night, scared that I’ll step on another mine." For Rami, the memories of fear and pain are ever-present, a reminder that even after the immediate threat is gone, the emotional scars remain.
The psychological toll is compounded by Iraq’s severe shortage of mental health services. The country’s infrastructure for psychological care remains underdeveloped, leaving many survivors to cope with their trauma in isolation. "We try to help them, but there aren’t enough resources," explained Dr. Hanan al-Majed, a mental health specialist in Mosul.
"The children are the most affected, and we don’t have enough therapists to handle the demand." With so few mental health professionals available, countless survivors never receive the support they so desperately need, leaving their wounds, both physical and emotional, untreated.
Fragile Progress
More than two decades after the fall of Saddam Hussein, Iraq’s efforts to clear these deadly remnants are in jeopardy.
Since 2003, Iraq has partnered with international demining organizations like the United Nations Mine Action Service (UNMAS), Mines Advisory Group (MAG), Danish Demining Group, and Norwegian People’s Aid. Together, they’ve cleared over 3,200 square kilometers of land and destroyed more than 2.3 million explosive devices. These accomplishments have helped communities rebuild, roads reopen, and farmland spring back to life.
However, the tide has begun to turn. UNMAS Iraq’s 2024 Mid-Year Review shows that clearance operations have dropped by 38% since 2020. This decline is driven by deepening political tensions, shrinking international funding, and, more critically, a breakdown in coordination that threatens to unravel years of progress.
In late 2023, a crucial cooperation agreement between the Iraqi government and the United Nations quietly expired following a breakdown in budget talks. This deadlock has brought joint operations to a halt. Iraqi officials blame UNMAS for a lack of transparency in awarding contracts to local demining firms, while UN agencies point to Baghdad’s bureaucratic delays and ongoing funding issues.
“This wasn’t just a misunderstanding, it was a breakdown of trust,” confirmed a UN source familiar with the talks. Without a shared framework, we’ve had to suspend joint clearance missions in Nineveh, Diyala, and Maysan indefinitely”, he added.
The consequences of this rift have been swift and far-reaching. Eleven major projects, including the Mosul Old City Urban Recovery Corridor, have been suspended. More than 420 local deminers have lost their jobs, and nearly 850,000 square meters of high-risk land set for clearance in 2025 now face indefinite delays.
While Iraq’s own demining agencies continue their work, they are stretched thin. The National Mine Action Authority (NMAA) and the Kurdistan Mine Action Agency (IKMAA) are struggling with limited resources. For example, IKMAA has only 18 teams to cover five provinces—an overwhelming task given the scale of contamination.
“The gap left by UNMAS is a chasm,” said Ola Almohor, former Country Director of UNMAS Iraq. “Without renewed collaboration, Iraq will not meet its Ottawa Treaty target, not in 2030, not in 2040.”
Iraq signed the Ottawa Treaty in 1997, committing to eliminate anti-personnel mines and clear all contaminated land by 2025. That deadline was quietly extended to 2030, but even that target now feels out of reach.
Efforts to restore cooperation are underway. A new government committee in Baghdad is reviewing Iraq’s strategy with the UN, hoping to resolve the issues and restart stalled projects. But with time running out, each passing day adds to the burden, and families continue to live in fear.
Their Scars Tell a Story
While national and international bodies face mounting challenges, on the ground, Iraqis are finding their own ways to fight back against the hidden threat beneath their soil. Rather than remain passive victims, communities across the country are taking action, organizing, and using innovative solutions to confront the deadly legacy of landmines.
In al-Amara, the capital of Maysan province, Wadi for Peace, a local NGO, is at the forefront of this movement. The organization trains villagers and shepherds to identify explosives, safely report dangers, and take swift action when needed. In 2023 alone, their mobile reporting system recorded over 1,400 alerts, leading to 600 confirmed landmine clearances by the Iraqi Demining and Mine Action Center (DMA). “We can’t wait for the government or the UN,” said Ali Khazal, director of Wadi for Peace. “People have to be their own first responders.”
This call for self-reliance is echoed in Kirkuk, where a group of landmine survivors has turned their suffering into a force for awareness and change.
In 2022, they founded Tigers Without Borders, Iraq’s first football team made up entirely of landmine victims. The team travels to schools and camps to spread the word about the dangers of unexploded ordnance.
Captain Hayder Salih, who lost his legs to a landmine while serving as a Peshmerga fighter, summed up their mission with these words, stating, “We kick with prosthetics, but we carry a message. We are more than our wounds; we are the voice of those still waiting for help.”
