16-05-2025
PHD against genocide and war: A Feyli woman's fight
Shafaq News/ Before she ever stepped into a lecture hall or drafted a thesis on water resources, Leqaa Jabar Kaki al-Diwali learned the cost of identity. She was only nine when Iraqi security forces raided her family's home in Baghdad. Her grandparents and three uncles were taken without warning. That morning marked the beginning of a life shaped by disappearance, displacement, and exile.
As Feyli Kurds—a Shiite minority long targeted under Baathist rule—her family was swept up in a campaign that cast them as traitors. Branded with accusations of 'foreign loyalty,' tens of thousands were stripped of citizenship and deported to Iran in the early 1980s. Leqaa would never see her grandparents again. They died far from the only home they had ever known.
Systemic Erasure
The persecution of Feyli Kurds spans decades. Under former Presidents Ahmed Hassan al-Bakr and Saddam Hussein, state violence escalated from harassment to full-scale deportation. By the early 1980s, nearly half a million Feylis had been forced across the border. Their homes, businesses, and documents were seized. An estimated 15,000 young men vanished into prisons or mass graves.
Despite this, the community had long contributed to Iraq's cultural and economic fabric. In Baghdad, Feylis worked in civil service, academia, and commerce—visibility that made them even more vulnerable.
In 2010, Iraq's High Criminal Court recognized the deportations as genocide. Parliament echoed that judgment a year later. Yet acknowledgment has yielded little in practice. Most survivors still await compensation, restitution, or meaningful engagement from state institutions.
From Exile to Academic Triumph
Leqaa's story mirrors that of her people—but she refused to let it end in loss. In May 2025, she earned a PhD in hydrology from the University of Damascus, defending a dissertation on water management in Erbil's Dashti Hawler Basin. The degree represented far more than academic achievement—it was a personal reclamation.
Her academic journey began in Baghdad, where she completed her undergraduate degree but was blocked from public-sector employment due to her background. She later worked within Iraq's Parliament and resumed her studies in 2012. A master's degree followed in 2019. In 2022, she applied to Damascus for doctoral research—and was accepted.
Then the war returned.
A Doctorate Amid Ruins
Syrian policy required her to live in-country during her program. Leqaa left her husband and children behind in Baghdad and moved to Damascus. Months later, a major offensive collapsed the regime, turning the capital into a battlefield.
With flights canceled and roads perilous, she traveled back and forth overland—through al-Bukamal and Deir ez-Zor—crossing combat zones by bus and sometimes on foot. 'There were times I came under bombardment,' she told Shafaq News. 'But I had no choice. I kept going.'
When Damascus fell in December 2024, she fled west with other civilians. Bombs rained down as they pushed toward the Lebanese border. 'We dropped to the ground, ran, then dropped again,' Leqaa recalled. 'We did whatever it took to survive.'
After 36 hours at the border, she reached Lebanon and eventually returned to Iraq. But her dissertation remained behind. The university refused to transfer her file, and Iraqi institutions were powerless to help. If she wanted her PhD, she had to go back—alone.
The Last Ascent
In early 2025, she reentered Syria and rented a modest apartment near the university. For three months, she lived in near-complete isolation. She stepped out only when absolutely necessary, avoiding checkpoints and combat. 'It was dangerous, but I didn't want to endanger anyone else,' Leqaa affirmed.
In May, she defended her thesis. Despite the chaos, despite the violence, despite the years lost to war and statelessness, Leqaa passed with distinction.
