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refugees
Listening to the People on the Other Side of US Bombs
As the US launches another illegal war in the Middle East, an author recalls what she learned from Iraqis who had lived through George W. Bush's invasion of their country.
Apr 01, 2026
I’m writing this piece well into President Donald Trump’s new war with Iran, which, with the help of Israel, has already killed more than 2,000 civilians, including 175 schoolgirls and staff; displaced some 3.2 million people; and is costing the American taxpayer at least $1 billion a day. All of which is tragically reminiscent of the last time a Republican president led the US into a war on a river of lies and greed. I’m thinking, of course, about George W. Bush and the invasion of Iraq in 2003.
Weapons that don’t exist. Threats to this country that aren’t real. Liberation for a people that the US will never win over. Freedom for women about whom nobody in power cares a jot. A war that will bring total victory in only a few days or weeks. All this we heard in 2003, and all this we are hearing again now.
I spent many years writing about the Iraq War, even though it took me some time to figure out how to begin. I was sickened by the Muslim baiting that had been going on since the 2001 attacks on New York City and the Pentagon in Washington, DC, and disgusted with the Hollywood movies and legacy press articles glorifying our vengeful wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, while deifying our soldiers. I wanted to tell a different story. I just didn’t know how.
Then, in 2004, I came across the blog Baghdad Burning by a 24-year-old Iraqi woman who called herself Riverbend. She was the first Iraqi I had ever read on the war, and she taught me that those in an occupied country tell a very different story than do the occupiers.
The US might have toppled Saddam Hussein, but in the first five years of our war, we killed at least half as many Iraqis as he had in his 35 years of brutal dictatorship.
Back then, if Iraqi men showed up in American books, movies, or journalism at all, it was usually as an enemy or a clown. Meanwhile, Iraqi women were depicted as little more than incomprehensible black-clad figures hovering in the background or wailing over the dead. But Riverbend was none of those. She was a computer technician in a sophisticated city who sounded like an American college student. I was hooked.
Over the next few months, I read her blog religiously. Riverbend’s language and thoughts sounded no different than those of my own daughter, except that she was describing what it was like to live, hour by hour, through the overwhelming, heart-freezing violence of a US bombing campaign and the occupation of her country.
Today, we can get the same sense of immediacy by reading or listening to brave civilians and journalists in Gaza, but during our post-9/11 wars on Afghanistan and Iraq, hearing any voice from the “other side” was rare. So, Riverbend’s blog was not only eye-opening, but it made readers like me feel as though we were experiencing the war right beside her. She wove the mundane moments of her days—jokes, lighthearted observations, conversations with her family—in with her terror at the falling bombs and her feelings about the United States as she watched us tear apart her country. Her blog was eventually collected into a book and published by The Feminist Press in 2005.
Soon, I began reading other Iraqi blogs, too, along with every translation I could find of Iraqi poetry and fiction. I also followed videos by Iraqis that were appearing online, telling stories remarkably different from those I was hearing here in the United States. Some of those Iraqi civilians did indeed want democracy, although they didn’t believe it could be forced on anyone by a foreign power or bombs. Some had been satisfied living under Saddam Hussein’s autocratic rule. Many were too focused on their daily struggles to find food and avoid bombs to think about politics at all. But all of them, whatever their thoughts and opinions, were suffering horribly, not only from our bombs, but from wounds, illnesses, malnutrition, starvation, and threats of all kinds, as well as from bullying, kidnappings, rape, and murder at the hands of the gangs and militias our war had unleashed.
One of the most eye-opening of those Iraqi videos was made by an anonymous woman early in the war, who put on a burqa, hid her handheld camera under it, and drove around the countryside interviewing women about their struggles and poverty. As she explained, what she was doing was so dangerous that she had no doubt her video would only remain up on YouTube for a day or so. Sure enough, it quickly disappeared. I only hope that she didn’t disappear with it.
A Bloody Mess
President Bush’s war in Iraq quickly became a bloody mess. As I (and many others) documented, the US might have toppled Saddam Hussein, but in the first five years of our war, we killed at least half as many Iraqis as he had in his 35 years of brutal dictatorship. By 2011, our war had slaughtered some 1 million Iraqis, orphaned at least a million children, and displaced 4 million people within or outside Iraq, according to body counts by The Lancet medical journal, Physicians for Social Responsibility, and others. In short, 1 of every 5 Iraqis was forced from his or her home: a chilling foreshadowing of what we have since seen in Gaza, and that we are now beginning to see in Iran and Lebanon.
The US not only killed and displaced all those people; it bankrupted Iraq with sanctions, poisoned it with depleted uranium, destroyed its infrastructure and middle class, and dismantled its achievements. Before we invaded, Iraq had the best medical system in the Middle East, and women there had more rights than in any Muslim country other than Turkey, making up 50% of students and 40% of the workforce. By the time we left, all of that, including women’s rights, had been undone.
Today, women’s rights in Iraq have eroded even further and women are now relegated to second-class citizenship. Just this March 2, the most prominent women’s rights advocate in Iraq, Yanar Mohammed, was shot to death by men driving by on motorcycles. Nobody has claimed responsibility for her assassination, nor has anybody yet been arrested—and that was just one of many political assassinations there since our war.
While the US war machine was busy destroying Iraq and we were hearing all too little from Iraqis themselves, Americans at home were being bombarded with ever more movies (think Hurt Locker and American Sniper, for instance), books, TV series, and news stories about the heroism of US soldiers at war, as well as their traumas and struggles on returning home.
Harry Potter
Seeking relief from such a myopic view of war, I set out to meet Iraqis who had lived through the war themselves. I wanted to hear the other side, the side we were not telling. So, when I found out that several hundred Iraqis had been resettled in Albany, New York, on the special visas (called SIVs) reserved for those who had worked for two years or more as interpreters for the US military or government officials, I decided to seek them out. That is how I came to meet several women I will never forget, among them a young poet named Nour, and a mother of three named Hala. (I’m withholding their last names for their safety.)
Nour told me she had been imprisoned and tortured in the city of Abu Ghraib at the age of 16 for writing a poem that Saddam Hussein didn’t like. After her release, she taught herself English and later became a translator for a freelance American journalist. In 2005, she and the journalist were kidnapped in the city of Basra and shot. The journalist was killed, but thanks to several surgeries, Nour survived and came to the US with the help of his widow.
Nour and I met in New York City and had lunch a few times. Small and slight, with an angular face and haunted eyes, she was reserved and visibly fragile, but her bravery was unmistakable. She refused to be pitied and, in spite of all she had been through and the dangers she would face there, wanted more than anything in the world to go home.
Today, in Donald Trump’s America, neither Nour, Hala, nor any of the other Iraqi women and men I met would even be admitted to this country, no matter how much they sacrificed to help Americans and no matter how much they might be targeted at home for having done so.
Hala, the other unforgettable Iraqi woman I met, had fled Baghdad with her husband and children about a year before we met in 2010. The day I arrived at their apartment in a suburb of Albany, New York, he was at his job far away in New Jersey, work he had found only after 10 months of searching. But Hala, who was working as a substitute schoolteacher, was at home with her daughter, Hiba, who was 20, and her son, Mustafa, who had just turned 9. As I speak no Arabic, I was grateful that they were all fluent in English.
“Come in, come in,” Hala said when she opened the door, ushering me in with a smile and showing me to a chair in her immaculate, if somewhat bare, white living room. A round, energetic woman with a kind, if worn, face, she settled onto her sofa and sent her daughter to make the chai (tea). “Mustapha,” she said to her serious-eyed son, “this lady is a writer. She is from England.” (I am British and sound it, although I have lived in the US for many decades.)
His eyes grew big. “You wrote Harry Potter!” he declared. It was not a question. I tried to disabuse him of the idea but he refused to believe me. “I’m a writer, too,” he said. “Want to see?” He ran out to fetch his book—a sheaf of stapled papers he had made in school. “It’s about bad GIs and good GIs.” On each page, he had drawn soldiers and a sky raining with bombs.
After we had settled down comfortably with our tea, Hala told me that she and her husband had both been engineers, a highly respected profession in Iraq, and had hated Saddam Hussein, but had lived a pleasant enough life. Her daughter Hiba had been studying to be a dentist, and their two young sons were in school. “Baghdad was beautiful to us then,” Hala told me wistfully. “Looking back now, it was like that movie Avatar, that world of paradise before the invasion.”
But then the US did invade, their jobs disappeared, and money ran low, so her husband became an interpreter for US officials. Soon afterward, Hala’s brother was killed in retribution. Then, their middle child was kidnapped and murdered (by whom they never knew). He was only 15.
“Every day for a year, Hiba dreamed that she went home and found her brother there,” Hala told me quietly, while Hiba listened without saying a word. “She could not eat or get up or get dressed.” So, in the end, they fled to Jordan to escape the violence and find Hiba therapy, eventually obtaining a visa to the US, where Hala and her husband hoped their children would be able to forge better and safer futures.
“And how is that going?” I asked.
“I like school,” Mustafa told me with confidence. But Hiba said she was mostly ostracized by the other students at her Albany college. Feelings against Iraqis ran high in those days—against all Arabs, in fact—and she was spared little of it.
“Some of them don’t like me because they know I’m an Arab and Muslim, and some because they think I’m Hispanic,” she said, her pretty face rueful, and with a shrug, she pushed her long hair over her shoulder. Her only friend, she added, was a young woman who had moved here from India.
The Visas That Are No More
Today, in Donald Trump’s America, neither Nour, Hala, nor any of the other Iraqi women and men I met would even be admitted to this country, no matter how much they sacrificed to help Americans and no matter how much they might be targeted at home for having done so. Indeed, the chances of any refugee finding asylum in the US now are just about zero. The Trump administration has banned refugees, asylum-seekers, or any immigrants from 75 countries—including Iraq.
In light of this, I look back with nostalgia on the time I spent with Riverbend, Nour, and Hala, when Barack Obama was still president and Donald Trump had yet to loom all too large in our lives. And I can’t stop thinking about what Hala said when I apologized for what my country had done to hers.
She looked at me and nodded. “Mustafa, come sit on my lap.” She motioned to her son. “Listen to this lady, so you will know that not all Americans wanted that war.”
He nestled into her lap, his sister sat on another chair, and they all gazed at me, waiting.
Disconcerted by such an unexpected responsibility, I took refuge in addressing Mustafa. Looking into his little face, I attempted to apologize on behalf not only of the United States, but of England, too, for destroying his country and killing his brother. And then, like an idiot, I began to cry.
Hiba handed me a Kleenex, but neither she nor her mother and brother cried with me. I was mortified. What did I want from them, weeping like this? It wasn’t my son and brother who’d been killed. It wasn’t my life that had been torn away. It wasn’t my country that had been ruined.
Yet they continued to be kind. After I had recovered and we had spoken for a few hours, I asked Hala, “How can you stand living here with your former enemy? Aren’t you angry at us Americans?”
She shook her head. “No, no, my friend.” She smiled at me kindly. “We lived under Saddam. We understand that there are people. And there are leaders. And that the two are not the same.”
I wonder, as we rain bombs down on the people of Iran today, if they would be able to find it in themselves to be quite so forgiving.
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‘Beyond the Pale’: General Says US Military Will Create a ‘Camp’ at Gitmo to ‘Deal With’ Cubans Fleeing Trump Blockade
One foreign policy expert noted that fears of a "mass exodus" of refugees come "as the US starves Cuba of energy and food."
Mar 20, 2026
As the Trump administration sows chaos with a crushing fuel blockade of Cuba, a general told Congress that the military will "set up a camp" at Guantánamo Bay to detain those who try to flee the humanitarian crisis inflicted by the United States.
The phrase "humanitarian crisis" was used by Sen. Tom Cotton (R-Ark.) to describe the situation in Cuba during a Senate Armed Services Committee hearing on Thursday, as he questioned US Marine Corps Gen. Francis Donovan, the commander of the US Southern Command (SOUTHCOM).
Donovan, a 37-year Marine veteran, took command of SOUTHCOM in February after being tapped by President Donald Trump. His predecessor, Adm. Alvin Holsey, abruptly resigned in December reportedly after he'd raised concerns about the Trump administration's bombings of alleged drug trafficking boats in the Caribbean, which have been widely described as illegal under international law.
On Thursday, Cotton asked Donovan, "Are we prepared for any kind of humanitarian crisis in Cuba—the possible flow of refugees, other civil disorder that may threaten our interests, especially if the decrepit, corrupt Castro regime finally falls or flees?"
"Senator, yes we are," Donovan responded. "SOUTHCOM... We have an [executive] order to be prepared to support [the Department of Homeland Security] (DHS) in a mass migration event. They would take the lead, we would follow."
Donovan said this would include using the US military base at Guantánamo Bay, "where we would set up a camp to deal with those migrants or any overflow from any situation in Cuba itself."
Trump signed an executive order during his first month in office last year directing DHS and the Pentagon to “expand the Migrant Operations Center at Naval Station Guantánamo Bay to full capacity," which the administration said meant scaling the facility up to more than 30,000 beds.
The base, which houses a prison infamous for the extrajudicial torture of detainees during the global War on Terror, was designated under Trump's order to hold "high‑priority criminal aliens unlawfully present in the United States.”
But Donovan suggested it may now be used to hold Cubans fleeing chaos and deprivation following Trump's own acts of economic warfare.
Cotton's question followed a warning that same day from Republican Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis of a "possible mass exodus out of Cuba," which experienced an island-wide electricity blackout earlier this week following the Trump administration's blockade of fuel entering the island, which a group of UN rapporteurs said in January was “a serious violation of international law and a grave threat to a democratic and equitable international order.”
DeSantis, whose state is home to about 1.6 million Cuban-Americans, said, "[W]e don’t want to see a massive armada of people showing up on the shores of the Florida Keys."
He said he believed the Trump administration "would rather see people in Florida go help… hopefully get a new government going" in Cuba, possibly referring to the long-held hope of some right-wing Cuban exiles to take over the island.
Following more than 60 years of an embargo that has strangled Cuba's economic development, the Trump administration tightened the noose even more in January, signing an executive order that would slap harsh tariffs on any country that provides oil to Cuba.
As a result of the blockade, explained Juanita Goebertus, Americas director at Human Rights Watch, "people don’t have reliable access to drinking water, hospitals can’t operate safely, basic goods are becoming increasingly difficult to obtain, and garbage is piling up in the streets.”
Trump first described his blockade as part of an effort to carry out regime change against Cuba's Communist Party leadership, but this week, he made the imperialist declaration that he may seek to outright "take" the island and that he could "do anything I want" with the "weakened nation."
Erik Sperling, the executive director of Just Foreign Policy, emphasized that the possible "mass migration event" described by Donovan was only coming "as the US starves Cuba of energy and food."
"Trump and [Secretary of State Marco] Rubio are to blame for any refugee crisis from Cuba, as the US intentionally harms civilians with an oil blockade," said Just Foreign Policy in a social media post responding to Republican warnings of Cuban mass migration. "US sanctions and meddling in Latin America have always been a leading cause of migrant flows."
Immigration journalist Arturo Dominguez explained that "What [Donovan] essentially said was, 'We're ready to accommodate the flow of refugees by putting them in camps.'" He added that "the way these military goons jump right in to 'accommodate' atrocity is beyond the pale."
Trump's blockade of Cuba is unpopular with the American public, according to a YouGov poll released earlier this week. Just 28% of adult US citizens said they approved of the US blocking oil shipments to the country, while 46% said they opposed it. The same survey found that just 13% want the US to use military force to attack Cuba, while 61% would oppose it.
Just Foreign Policy said, "The American people do not want their government to starve Cubans and cause a 'mass migration event.'"
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Fears of ‘Cataclysmic’ Refugee Crisis Grow as 3.2 Million Iranians Already Displaced by US-Israeli War
"If this evolves into a long-term war, and particularly if internal conflict emerges in Iran, the humanitarian consequences could worsen dramatically," said the president of Refugees International.
Mar 12, 2026
In less than two weeks, the US-Israeli war in Iran has caused a displacement crisis that Refugees International warns is "on course for cataclysmic civilian harm, displacement, and humanitarian need," amid repeated strikes on civilian sites and infrastructure.
As many as 3.2 million people are estimated to be temporarily displaced inside Iran, according to a report released Thursday by the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR).
Most of those who've been forced to flee their homes have been in Tehran and other urban centers, where US and Israeli airstrikes have been the heaviest, the report said.
Since the war was launched on February 28, Iranian authorities and humanitarian groups have reported widespread attacks on civilian areas and infrastructure by US and Israeli forces.
The Iranian Red Crescent Society reported on Wednesday that nearly 20,000 civilian buildings, including at least 16,000 residential units, have been affected by strikes, along with 77 healthcare facilities and 65 schools.
About 200 children in Iran are among approximately 1,300 killed and 9,000 injured in less than two weeks of war, according to the World Health Organization (WHO), which cited figures from national authorities.
"The war launched by the United States and Israel against Iran has been characterized by multiple strikes on civilian sites and infrastructure by all sides, often with flagrant disregard for civilian safety," said Jeremy Konyndyk, the president of Refugees International, on Wednesday. "The United States/Israeli coalition has struck numerous civilian sites in Iran, and the Iranian military has struck multiple civilian sites in Israel and in multiple Gulf countries."
"These attacks on civilians have already caused hundreds of needless deaths and displaced hundreds of thousands of people," he added. "The humanitarian impact could expand exponentially if this develops into a prolonged war."
The deadliest single attack on civilians has been the bombing of the Minab elementary school in southern Iran on the first day of the war, where at least 175 people, mostly girls ages 7-12, were massacred. Preliminary findings of an investigation by the Pentagon reportedly indicate that the United States was responsible for the attack. Konyndyk said it was "likely the largest number of child casualties in a single US military attack since the My Lai massacre in Vietnam in 1968."
"But the Minab strike is far from the only strike on civilian sites. US and Israeli attacks have struck other schools, multiple medical facilities, numerous residential areas, and a water desalination plant. Iranian attacks have also struck civilian targets and infrastructure, including a desalination plant and urban residential areas," Kondynyk said. "All such sites are protected under international humanitarian law (IHL), raising the serious prospect that these strikes could constitute war crimes."
He added that "It is difficult to regard the pattern of US strikes on civilian sites as mere tragic accidents when the United States has systematically removed many of the safeguards that once helped prevent harm to civilians."
He condemned comments by US Secretary Pete Hegseth dismissing the "stupid rules of engagement" and his closure of a Pentagon office tasked with preventing civilian harm in order to maximize "lethality," according to a recent investigation by ProPublica.
Hegseth emphasized last week that the United States was not planning to take in a, "new wave of Middle Eastern refugees” that might be forced to flee the region by continued attacks on Iran and other countries.
The Trump administration has let in virtually zero refugees from anywhere in the world since October, with the exception of white South Africans.
There are already around 25 million people living in the Middle East who are considered refugees, internally displaced, or had recently been returned after being displaced.
The defense secretary has said countries in the region are "capable" of handling the new influx of potentially millions more displaced people, even as the US has drastically reduced funds for international organizations that administer humanitarian aid and refugee resettlement.
There are more than 1.65 million refugees living in Iran, around 750,000 of whom are from Afghanistan. Kondynyk noted that many of them already "have limited access to their rights or safe passage and already face rights violations and scapegoating by the Iranian state."
More than 800,000 people in Lebanon have been forced to flee their homes this month, according to Lebanese authorities, following Israeli orders clearing over 100 villages in the south and outside Beirut.
Meanwhile, the vast majority of Gaza's nearly 2 million people still remain displaced after more than two years of genocidal war waged by Israel, which destroyed most civilian infrastructure, according to the International Organization for Migration.
"If this evolves into a long-term war, and particularly if internal conflict emerges in Iran, the humanitarian consequences could worsen dramatically," Kondynyk said. "A prolonged conflict risks creating displacement and humanitarian crises on a massive scale, even as US cuts have kneecapped the global humanitarian system built to respond to such crises."
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