How Iraq's Islamic State captives became a lucrative ransom trade

Middle East Eye

29-03-2025

When the Islamic State (IS) group overran large parts of Iraq and Syria, thousands of civilians were taken captive.
Women, children and men suddenly found themselves at the mercy of one of the world's most feared militant organisations. Families, desperate to secure their loved ones' freedom, resorted to paying massive ransoms to free them.
Yet as IS lost territorial control, a new industry emerged - one not run by the militants, but by smugglers, brokers, security personnel and corrupt officials.
What started as a desperate bid to rescue captives quickly became a multi-million-dollar trade in fraudulent rescues, inflated ransom demands, and systemic corruption.
Initially, IS demanded ransoms directly from families. The process was brutal but straightforward: pay a certain amount and your relative might be freed. But as the group's grip on its so-called caliphate weakened, intermediaries took over, adding layers of deception and exploitation.
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"Families had no way to contact IS directly anymore," explained a rescuer, whose organisation in northern Iraq has been involved in legitimate operations to secure the release of captives.
"So they turned to brokers, people who claimed they could arrange a release. But these middlemen charged enormous fees, often with no guarantee that the captive would actually be freed," he added, speaking to Middle East Eye on condition of anonimity to avoid issues with Iraqi authorities.
The going rate? Between $10,000 and $25,000 per person. The financial stakes were high, and desperation made families vulnerable to deception.
For many, the financial burden was devastating. Some families sold their homes, while others took out massive loans to meet ransom demands - only to discover too late that they had been scammed. In some extreme cases, family members even tried to sell their organs to raise funds for a relative's release.
'Captives as currency'
As the Islamic State began to crumble militarily, some fighters attempted to profit from the captives in their control. Survivors later revealed that IS members tried to sell enslaved women and children to fund their escape from Syria to Europe.
"When IS was losing, they used captives as currency," the rescuer said. "They tried to sell them off quickly to secure money to flee."
With no oversight and no way to hold fraudsters accountable, the trade in fake rescues flourished. Brokers often claimed they had secured a release, only for the family to wait in vain for a loved one who never arrived.
As more cases surfaced, the Kurdish Regional Government (KRG) attempted to intervene, introducing a reimbursement programme around 2017 meant to ease the financial strain on families.
In this picture taken on 22 April 2023, displaced Iraqi men from the Yazidi community sit outside at the Sharya camp, some 15kms from the northern Iraqi city of Dohuk (AFP)
The idea was simple: if a family paid for a relative's release, the government would compensate them afterward.
But instead of solving the problem, the system opened the door to rampant fraud, with the height of the ransom and rescue scheme occurring between 2017 and 2019, coinciding with the territorial decline of IS.
Opportunists inflated ransom amounts, fabricated rescue operations, and pocketed portions of the reimbursements. What was meant to be a lifeline for families quickly became another avenue for exploitation.
"Some people exaggerated the ransom amounts to claim more money," the rescuer said. "Others staged completely fake rescues to get government funds. Even officials started taking a cut of the reimbursements."
In some cases, brokers inflated ransom prices far beyond what was actually needed, knowing the government would cover the costs.
"If a release could be arranged for $10,000, they would tell the family it cost $25,000," the rescuer explained. "Then they pocketed the difference."
No closure, no justice
Beyond fraudulent brokers, smugglers played a major role in the illicit trade. Some worked genuinely to get captives out, but others exploited families' desperation, charging exorbitant fees for transportation.
For high-risk cases - particularly for women and children - the price skyrocketed. Smugglers charged up to $25,000 per person, citing the need to bribe IS guards, evade security forces, and traverse treacherous routes. Yet even these operations carried no guarantees.
'The networks are still alive. The only thing that's changed is who's paying. The worst part is, many families never got closure'
- IS captive rescuer
"Some captives were abandoned halfway through an escape if the smuggler thought the risk was too high," the rescuer said. "Others were sold to different groups for either ransom or trafficking."
Currently, around 2,600 Yazidis remain missing, leaving many families in financial ruin and without closure. Efforts to trace missing individuals have increasingly relied on informal networks rather than official government action.
Middle East Eye wrote to the Kurdistan Regional Government for comment but did not receive a response by time of publication.
The rescue trade began to decline around 2020, but it persists, with corruption reported at every level. The same networks that once facilitated ransom deals have adapted to new ventures, including smuggling fighters, weapons, and trafficked individuals across borders.
"The networks are still alive," the rescuer said. "The only thing that's changed is who's paying. The worst part is, many families never got closure. They lost everything, and no one is held accountable."
"It is an awful dilemma for those with loved ones who have been kidnapped," Pari Ibrahim, executive director of the Free Yezidi Foundation, told MEE.
Back from hell: The Yazidi women who survived the Islamic State Read More »
"While paying to rescue those abducted does incentivise that behaviour, what is the alternative? What would anyone do if their relatives were being held and raped, abused and tortured on a daily basis - wouldn't any of us do all that is possible to bring them to back home?"
With no legal recourse, families who were deceived had little hope of recovering their money. Most could not even report the fraud, fearing retaliation from brokers with powerful connections. Those who spoke out were often ignored by authorities, who had little interest in pursuing cases that implicated their own ranks.
"Justice won't be served," the rescuer admitted. "While some officials ignored the problem out of incompetence or bureaucracy, others actively profited from the system - taking bribes, inflating ransom amounts, or approving fraudulent claims for financial gain."
MEE understands that in some cases, survivors remain afraid to speak, not just because of trauma but because they fear retaliation.
The recent amnesty of suspected IS members by the Iraqi government has reignited anxieties, as many survivors worry that their former captors could return to their communities.
Legal documents
The scars of Islamic State rule are visible throughout Iraq.
In Mosul and Sinjar, mass graves from 2013 to 2017 are still being uncovered, revealing the full scale of the militant group's brutality. Families searching for missing loved ones are forced to rely on incomplete databases, with only two percent of captives properly documented.
'While paying to rescue those abducted does incentivise that behaviour, what is the alternative?'
- Pari Ibrahim, Free Yezidi Foundation
Compounding the challenges, the Iraqi government now requires official identification documents before approving rescue missions, which has severely hindered efforts to locate and save the missing. Many captives had their IDs destroyed or confiscated by IS, making it even harder for families to prove their loved ones' identities.
The challenge of obtaining identification documents continues even after a captive has been freed. In Iraq, official papers such as national IDs or birth certificates are essential for accessing basic services, from healthcare to education. For some former captives, however, obtaining these documents has been nearly impossible.
The process is slow, complex, and riddled with bureaucratic obstacles. Families must apply for reissuance, but proving their relation to a captive is often difficult, especially for those who were born in areas that were under IS control areas, where official records were never kept.
The issue of documentation has also affected thousands of IS family members, particularly widows and children held in detention camps, leaving them stateless and without access to healthcare, education or employment.
"The process is slow, and many families cannot afford the legal fees to recover their documents," the rescuer said.
"If this issue isn't solved, it will create long-term problems. People without papers cannot work, study, or even travel. This breeds resentment, poverty, and isolation, fuelling the very instability Iraq is trying to prevent."