5/5 Ha M. 5 years ago on Google
Between
the
arrival
of
the
first
political
prisoners
in
1986
and
the
prison’s
liberation
by
Kurdish
Peshmerga
on
March
9th
1991,
Sulaymaniyah’s
Amna
Suraka,
or Red
Prison,
functioned
as
the
headquarters
of
the
northern
division
of
the
Mukhabarat,
Iraq’s
secret
intelligence
agency.
The
Mukharbarat
used
the
location
for
the
state’s
torture
and
imprisonment
of
Iraq’s
Kurdish
population.
Between
1986
and
1989,
the
Iraqi
state
conducted
the
al-Anfal
Campaign,
considered
to
be
genocidal
in
intent,
against
the
Iraqi
Kurds.
Conducted
by Ali
Hassan
al-Majid under
the
direction
of
Saddam
Hussein,
al-Anfal
utilized
bombing,
firing
squads,
mass
deportation
and
forced
relocation,
ground
offensives,
settlement
destruction,
torture
and
imprisonment,
and
chemical
warfare
in
an
attempt
to
destroy
the
Kurdish
population.
The
chemical
gas
attacks
on
Halabja,
part
of
al-Anfal,
earned
al-Majid
the nickname of “Chemical
Ali.” A
Human
Rights
Watch
report
documents
the
“systematic
and
deliberate
murder
of
at
least
50,000
and
possibly
as
many
as
100,000
Kurds”
as
a
result
of
al-Anfal.
Thousands
of
Kurds
were
tortured
and
executed
at
Amna
Suraka.
During
the
first
Gulf
War
of
1991,
the
Kurdish
guerilla
army
called
the
Peshmerga
conducted
an
uprising
in
northern
Iraq
with
the
intent
of
liberating
the
country
from
Hussein’s
control.
Though
ultimately
unsuccessful,
the
uprising
did
see
the
capturing
of
of
the
Amna
Suraka
by
Kurds.
Due
in
part
to
the
efforts
of
Lady
Hero
Talabani,
the
wife
of
Iraqi
president
Jalal
Talabani,
Amna
Suraka
is
now
a
national
Museum
of
War
Crimes.
Visitors
of
the
Amna
Suraka
today
may
explore
the
multi-story
administrative
building.
It’s
been
left
largely
as
it
was
the
day
of
its
capture
by
Peshmerga:
structurally
intact
but
gutted
and
studded
with
holes
from
warfare.
The
basement,
lit
with
deep,
dark
red,
contains
haunting
photographs
from
the
chemical
attack
in
Halabja.
Among
the
images
is
Ramazan
Öztürk’s
iconic
image Silent
Witness.
School
children
on
class
visits
to
the
museum
climb
about
the
various
disused
tanks
and
helicopters
which
sit
in
the
courtyard
outside
the
administrative
building.
The
central
building
of
the
Museum
of
War
Crimes
opens
with
the
Hall
of
Mirrors.
What
was
once
the
offices
and
canteen
of
ranking
members
of
the
Ba’ath
party
is
now
a
hall
covered
with
4,500
light
bulbs
representing
villages
destroyed
during
al-Anfal,
and
182,000
shards
of
broken
glass—for
every
person
killed
during
the
operation.
The
Hall
of
Mirrors
also
contains
a
replica
of
a
traditional
Kurdish
home.
Following
the
Hall
of
Mirrors
are
corridors
and
floors
containing
the
prison
cells
where
prisoners
were
held,
tortured,
raped
and
executed.
Some
cells
are
shadowed
and
empty,
with
Kurdish
Arabic
words
written
or
carved
out
by
the
people
who
inhabited
the
rooms
or
visitors
who
followed
them.
Local
artist
Kamaran
Omar
was
commissioned
to
cast
five
life-size
statues
of
prisoners
hand-cuffed
to
walls,
being
beaten
and
hanging
from
electrical
wires.
The
latter
prisoner
is
accompanied
by
a
recording
of
an
interrogation.
Echoing
from
within
these
barren,
graffitied
rooms
surrounded
with
barbed
wire,
the
effects
of
the
recording
are
chilling.
One
cell
contains
a
statue
of
Atta
Ahmed
Qadir,
a
Kurdish
school-teacher
lauded
for
his
courage.
Qadir
was
held
in
that
very
cell
before
his
transfer
to
the
Abu
Ghraib
prison,
where
he
was
executed
in
1990.
The
Amna
Suraka
shares
features
with
Cambodia’s Tool
Seng prison
of
the
Khmer
Rouge:
both
buildings
were
used
not
just
to
imprison
and
torture,
but
as
weapons
for
genocide.
Both
are
urban
prisons,
with
residences
very
nearby.
Both
have
been
preserved
by
the
nations
of
the
forces
which
liberated
them
to
be
correctives
of
history.
And
both
leave
the
traveler
stricken
for
having
walked
the
halls
and
rooms
where
humans
caused
so
much
suffering
and
where
humans
suffered
so
much
