Jassim Al-Asadi is standing on the bow of a narrow wooden boat, perfectly erect like a figurehead, looking into the distance. The wind is blowing gently into his face as the vessel glides smoothly through the marshlands of Chibayish in southern Iraq on this sunny winter day. Water buffalo are grazing next to huts artfully woven from reeds as herons circle overhead. The orange-blue plumage of a kingfisher glints in the sunlight.

Asadi, 66, is the best-known nature conservationist in Iraq, and he was born here in the marshes, as they are called. "I was born prematurely just as my mother was collecting reeds for the water buffalo," he says. "Buffalo," Asadi calls out when he sees one of the animals. He spews statistics, points out various plant and animal species, makes jokes and greets locals who periodically glide past in other wooden boats or who are standing in front of their huts at the water’s edge.

The swamps are his home, his passion – and his misfortune. One year ago, the activist just barely survived a kidnapping. He was tortured and had to go to the hospital for treatment.

The idyllic surroundings, after all, are misleading. The Mesopotamian marshlands, which some Biblical scholars believe were home to the Garden of Eden, is home to more than 60 species of fish and 160 different types of birds. But this wetland could soon dry up. Powerful interests, international disagreements over water, and widespread corruption pose a vast threat to the region, as does global warming. Asadi is fighting for the survival of this paradise, just as he did back in 2003 after the U.S. invasion – in the middle of war.

The evening before he takes his guests out into the swamplands, Asadi receives them in his home in Chibayish. One wall of his living room is full of awards for his life’s work, the table is groaning with books. When he begins talking about his kidnapping, his face grows serious.

On February 1, 2023, Jassim Al-asadi was traveling near Baghdad on behalf of his organization called Nature Iraq for a meeting with the water minister and other government officials. Suddenly, he says, a group of armed men pulled him into a car and took him to an unknown location. There, the militiamen tortured him for 14 days, he says, hanging him up in the middle of a room and beating him in addition to administering electric shocks. Asadi’s is far from an isolated case. Numerous environmental activists in Iraq have reported being taken into custody or targeted by hate campaigns orchestrated by those holding power in the country.

Dams on the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers

Asadi doesn’t know what militia his abductors may have belonged to. But most such groups in the region have close ties to Iran. They fight for Tehran’s interests and are notorious in Iraq for silencing activists. Anti-regime protests in Iraq make the Iranian leadership nervous. "I think it was about water," says Asadi. A short time before, he had released a documentary film about Iran’s dams, which cut off significant supplies of water to the marshlands he calls home.

But it’s not just Iran that is cutting off water flows to Iraq. Turkey is also doing its part, with more than 20 dam projects on the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. Millions of farmers depend on the two rivers, as does the survival of the Mesopotamian swamps.

"The dams are the first problem," says Asadi. "The second is the climate crisis. And the third: poor management. The farmers are still using ancient irrigation techniques, with which they flood their fields."

Centuries ago, swollen rivers used to traverse the territory, and residents sought to protect themselves from flooding by building dams. A surfeit of water and fertile soil produced bountiful harvests and led to the Mesopotamian region producing one of the first advanced civilizations in human history. Fully 3,300 years before Christ, the Sumerians developed cuneiform writing, invented the wheel, established laws and taught mathematics and astronomy.

Now, the one-time cradle of civilization is being destroyed by present-day civilization. Iraq is one of the top five countries in the world most egregiously affected by global warming. In summer, people suffer in temperatures of up to 50 degrees Celsius (122 degrees Fahrenheit), with many fleeing to the city because their fields dry out.

Saddam Hussein Tried to Drain the Marshlands

And it wasn’t all that long ago that large swaths of the swamps were intentionally drained at the behest of then-dictator Saddam Hussein. After rebels hid in the wetlands, he had dams built and canals dug, cutting off the water supply to the swamps. Hundreds of thousands of people had to flee the region.

They moved to the cities or left Iraq. Environmentalist Asadi remembers how unhappy his father was after the move. "He missed his people. He was never able to relax in the city." Asadi also suffered under the regime. As a university student, he says, he was arrested and tortured because he refused to work for Saddam’s Baath Party.

Then, in 2003, U.S. President George W. Bush ordered the invasion of Iraq to get rid of Saddam. The U.S. occupiers destroyed the state and plunged the country into chaos – which led to a bloody civil war, the consequence of which can still be felt today. Militias and jihadis spread across the land.

Asadi and others took advantage of the chaos. "We brought a digger to Chibayish and dug the first gap through a dam that was blocking water from flowing into the swamplands." When the first streams of water between burbling through the dam, everyone cheered. After that, Asadi began campaigning for the creation of a state agency focused on revival of the swamps. Slowly, life returned to the marshes, with fish, the reeds and the kingfishers returning. The human residents of the region also returned, building huts, planting rice and making kaymak from the milk of the water buffalo.

Ineffective Governance

In 2016, UNESCO named the marshlands a World Heritage Site, a rare moment of joy for Iraq after jihadis from Islamic State had plundered or destroyed important cultural sites from antiquity. It could have marked a happy ending for the marshlands. But now, they are once again under threat.

Iraqi Environment Minister Nizar Amedi welcomes his guests in his office in Baghdad’s Green Zone, the heavily guarded government quarter that is also home to the 42-hectare U.S. Embassy complex along with numerous security companies that have been earning excellent money here since 2003. Amedi says that negotiations are underway with Turkey and Iran, and that there is a long-term water strategy. In a couple of years, the problem will have been solved he insists, lighting one cigarette after the next. The situation in the marshes is already improving, Amedi says. He is unable, though, to say how large the budget is for the swamplands. And adds: "We’re not responsible for the implementation."

It is a typical statement for Iraqi officials. Nobody feels responsible for the country, a place that is home to rampant corruption and where government posts are handed out according to a quota system based on religion and ethnicity – a system the U.S. occupation introduced after the overthrow of Saddam Hussein. Political platforms take a back seat to who receives how much of the pie in the name of the Sunnis, the Shiites or the Kurds.

Residents Are Moving to the Cities

Back on the boat trip through the wetlands of Chibayish, it quickly becomes clear how tenuous is the connection between the environment minister’s words and reality. The green reeds full of birds quickly give way to an apocalyptic scene: grayish-brown dirt piles jut out of the murky water and a putrid smell hangs in the air. Plastic trash lies around as scrawny dogs bark into the silence. A few men in dark robes stand in front of dilapidated huts made of reeds and corrugated metal.

Jassim Al-Asadi stops joking around.

The wooden boats, the best way to get around the marshes, can no longer proceed. Water levels are so low that the canal leading further into the swamps has become unnavigable. It’s the end of our voyage, only about a half-hour by boat from the edge of the wetland. On the map, the swamp is four times as large.

"At one time, all of this was covered by water, and it looked like a green carpet, with hundreds of water buffalo grazing in the reeds," says Asadi, pointing to the surroundings. Now, he says, fish and buffalo are dying because the water has become too salty, with the salinity increasing because of fertilizers, salty ground water and a lack of river water flowing into the area. "Once it flows into the swamps, the water doesn’t drain out again. When it evaporates, the salt remains behind – and that’s why there is always more of it," Asadi explains.

Numerous residents have moved into the overpopulated suburbs of the cities, says the environmentalist. "They went to Basra or Kerbala." And as the people have disappeared, so, too, has a way of life. The Arabs from the marsh have their own traditions and customs, and they speak a special Arabic dialect with words as ancient as the land itself – with 10 different words for reeds.

Last summer, temperatures here rose to more than 50 degrees Celsius. One of the remaining residents here describes how a girl grew ill from the heat.

A Disaster for the Climate

There are no longer any trees to protect people from the blazing sun, and air conditioners are a pipe dream. The disappearance of the swamplands is also a disaster when it comes to combating the rising temperatures. The wetlands sequester huge amounts of CO2 – which is released into the atmosphere when they dry out.

"We always used to follow the water," says a resident. But this could be the end of this ancient lifestyle. She plans to move to the city if there isn't enough rainfall this year.

Despite the desperate situation, the government has not been able to introduce more efficient irrigation systems or to negotiate a water-sharing treaty with neighboring countries. Jassim Al-Asadi says he waited 10 years for approval for a pilot project aimed at constructing a natural wastewater treatment facility. Wastewater from nearby households flows into the facility over several steps and through a basin planted with reeds, thus cleansing it naturally. Elsewhere in Iraq, wastewater is generally pumped directly into waterways without treatment. "The politicians talk, but they don’t do anything," says Asadi.