Abdul Khaliq Hussein... Companion of the Path and Scalpel of Politics
Dr. Abdul Khaliq Hussein represents a unique model of the intellectual who combined the precision of medicine with the scalpel of political analysis. Born in Basra, he received his medical education at the University of Mosul before political winds in the 1970s forced him to migrate to Britain. Despite settling there as a successful surgeon, he remained possessed by the concerns of his homeland. This drive motivated him to engage in intellectual writing for decades, producing hundreds of articles and books centered on criticizing the political and social structure of Iraq and the Arab region. He adopted secular liberalism as a fundamental basis for state reform, proceeding from a deep idea that tyranny is not merely the behavior of a ruler but the result of accumulated culture. He therefore focused his works, including "Iraq Between Authoritarianism and Democracy," on dissecting the collective mentality and obstacles to modernity, considering that the flaw lies in the absence of separation between religion and politics and the dominance of ideologies incapable of understanding the requirements of the age.
Abdul Khaliq Hussein, for me, is an encyclopedic intellectual "for breaking" as we say in Iraqi, possessing a wondrous ability to adapt knowledge to suit reality. He was pragmatic in the positive sense advocated by philosophers like John Dewey, where thinking is a tool for solving social problems rather than mere intellectual luxury. This pragmatism brought him out of the "ivory tower" and abstract theories to the ground of reality, searching for applicable solutions and giving him high flexibility in dealing with variables without abandoning the essence.
I knew him from the beginnings of our assembly in a small organization called the "Iraqi Democratic Assembly," and that period was one of the most productive and fruitful, as my relationship with him grew closer to become one of the closest and most loyal friends. We were in full agreement on most issues, which deeply influenced my future thoughts and behavior. From him, I learned the importance of flexibility and realism in political work. I remember well when we decided to hold the second conference of the Assembly in London on November 19–20, 1994. We began preparations with a limited number of colleagues, and made exceptional efforts in writing documents to appear as a large party exceeding its real size represented in individuals no more than fingers on two hands. We worked like beehives, nothing distracting us from printing and proofreading, and succeeded in convincing friends from inside and outside Britain to participate. After the conference, we decided to assign Abdul Khaliq as editor-in-chief of "Al-Ghad Al-Democrati" newspaper.
We continued publishing the newspaper with self-denial. Abdul Khaliq played the greater role in selecting and categorizing articles and writing most of their content, while I spent holidays typesetting content and arranging articles manually for printing. The Assembly later ended with the death of Saleh Dakleh, like most small organizations which Masoud Barzani called "shops." Each of us was freed to pursue their own path, opening space for Abdul Khaliq to join Ahmed Chalabi's group. He would attend their Sunday meetings in London, driven by his firm conviction that the Iraqi opposition could not overthrow the fascist Ba'athist rule without the United States.
Abdul Khaliq kept repeating that "politics is the art of the possible and of interests"—there are no permanent friendships or permanent enmities in its world. He would always cite Stalin's alliance with America and Britain against Nazism in World War II, asking with brilliance: "Why shouldn't we ally with international forces against Ba'athist rule, which promised to leave Iraq a scorched land without people?" History proved the truth of his vision. Without that international shift, Saddam and his sons would still be sitting on Iraq's chest. Abdul Khaliq Hussein's experience and courageous positions remained a "surgical means" necessary to excise the tumor of dictatorship, away from false ideological emotions.
Salim Sa'adi Ali... The Certainty of the Activist and the Purity of the Friend
The name "Salim Sa'adi Ali" stands out as a prominent leader of the Iraqi Communist Party and a member of its Central Committee, one of the figures who played a pivotal role in representing the party in international forums, particularly in the United Kingdom. My acquaintance with Salim began when I joined Queen Mary College, and our relationship strengthened when we shared housing in a house I rented in East London, near our college.
I recognized in Salim a belief in a principle he never deviated from, and he never shirked his organizational duties even at the expense of his studies. Although I was not familiar in detail with the nature of his scientific research at the university, he was among the elite sent to study in Britain on oil scholarships, armed with tangible academic excellence and dialectical and analytical intelligence.
I affectionately described him as "dogmatic," using the term in its positive sense—I never saw him suffer from the "anxiety of doubt" or mental confusion. He had ready answers, clarity, and firmness that prevented him from hesitating, or as we say in Iraqi colloquial: "He doesn't beat around the bush." He possessed a self-discipline I envied, and a strict commitment to the ethical constants he believed in and embodied by his party.
Our house, with Salim living there, became a beehive that never rested. The living room would be crowded with groups of comrades and friends in political discussions that lasted until late hours of the night, focusing on Iraqi affairs and student matters in Britain. The attendance was a strange mix, including the politically "new," the "pretender to knowledge," the "intellectually complex," and the "kind and lovable." Diverse spectrums united by political loyalties, and the house was a station and haven for Iraqi students whom harsh circumstances had blown about.
Through these gatherings, I got to know personalities who played important roles in the student movement in Britain. Because of what we called "maintenance"—that is, protecting the organization from Ba'athist infiltrations—many believed I was still a "non-dedicated" party member, while I had left party work years ago.
In those sessions, silence and awe would descend when "Sa'ad," Salim's brother, spoke. Sa'ad was the organizing official for the party's organization in Britain, known for his calm sobriety and organizational firmness. His sudden departure was a violent shock to student circles—it was the loss of one of the purest cadres produced by exile, leaving a void that his generation's comrades still feel today.
Amid this organizational noise, I tried to remain in the "observer" zone—not out of asceticism regarding the struggle I had engaged in in Iraq against the Ba'athist regime, but because my interests began to take other paths. However, I cannot forget the friend I loved: the martyr Hussein Majid Sa'id. Hussein was one of the kindest friends, simple and loving life. He left us to join the mountains of Kurdistan with the "Ansar," falling as a martyr in the treacherous "Bishtashan massacre" perpetrated by the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan. His departure was a stab in my memory, and his death became one of the most painful pages in my being.
Salim, as a committed communist, maintained a "natural distance" from me for being non-party, but he showered me with friendship and kindness as I was close to the thought he espoused. I aroused Salim's interest and awakened a kind of caution or quiet provocation in leftist friends with my democratic and liberal proposals, and my implied criticism of student work methods. Salim would respond firmly and with the logic of the committed to party and homeland issues. He was a man inhabited by absolute faith, with an innate readiness to defend his ideas to the last breath, never compromising a letter of what he believed.
I always saw him burdened with party tasks, meetings with British organizations, and speeches at student forums. Nevertheless, he did not neglect the cultural aspect, playing a significant role in documenting national history through translating British foreign office documents, and publishing articles in "Tariq Al-Shaab" newspaper about the Ansar movement.
I was greatly influenced by Salim, not only for his wide leftist culture and knowledge of political figures, but for his rare ability to politely defend his ideas, even knowing the other might not be convinced. Salim remained in my memory as a model of the activist whom circumstances and exile did not change, but rather refined.
Na'im Al-Shathar... Companion of the "Assembly" and Shared Concerns
I met Na'im Al-Shathar in the 1990s, when London was teeming with Iraqis' dreams of change. Work brought us together in the "Iraqi Democratic Assembly," and our meetings in the foggy capital went beyond rigid political work to become part of a social fabric connecting us with democratic friends and nationalist opposition organizations.
Na'im was an educational professor at the University of Baghdad (Center for Educational and Psychological Research), and he carried that patient educational spirit to his exile. In his early days in England, he worked at the University of Bristol—where he earned his doctorate—then moved to Cardiff University before finally settling in London. His apartment in central London became a "shrine" and intellectual salon gathering friends. No visit of mine to London was complete without his company—and that of our late friend Ahmed—whether in intellectual seminars, national celebrations, or Iraqi community activities, especially in the Iraqi Forum's halls. Our conversations and shared concerns would often extend late, and I would find in his apartment a safe and friendly place to stay.
We formed a harmonious team—me, Na'im, and Abdul Khaliq Hussein—and with diligent effort we succeeded in rescuing the "Iraqi Democratic Assembly" and steering its activities amid the clamorous Iraqi opposition currents of the time. What I truly cherish in that journey is that rare intellectual harmony—I don't recall us ever disagreeing on a single detail or political position.
Na'im's enthusiasm, despite his advanced age and health challenges, was fuel that inspired us all. He was the primary driver for amplifying our voice within the democratic current, in editing and publishing the Assembly's newsletter. He played a commendable role in convening the Assembly's conference, and made strenuous efforts for the unity and cohesion of the democratic current. What most impressed me was his selflessness and absolute dedication; he was our best representative in political forums and meetings. He remained loyal to the Assembly despite the temptations of the Democratic Union and their repeated attempts to recruit him—attempts he would recount to us laughing, describing them as futile.
Away from political noise, Na'im had hobbies revealing his patience and composure. He was passionate about collecting crystal pieces, and I recall with a smile how he would spend long hours repairing minute cracks in those glasses with the precision of a surgeon. He also took pride in his skill at cooking authentic Iraqi dishes, where the Iraqi 'essence' in his cooking added a familiarity to our gatherings that made us forget the bitterness of exile.
Na'im Al-Shathar was a rare mix of political firmness and human tenderness, a friend who filled the place with his presence even in his absence.
Hammam Al-Sharifi... Intellectual Sobriety and Noble Impact
Some people's essence transcends all classification, and my brother-in-law, the architect Hammam Al-Sharifi, is such a man who embodied "sobriety" as a lived reality and enlightened thought. Before we search for its criteria in university classifications or journal pages, it was clearly represented in his dignified person. Since he connected with our family through his marriage to my dear sister Maysoun, a solid friendship was born between us, its seeds beginning in Malaysia and flourishing after his move to Britain. There, his character was clearly revealed to me as a brilliant architect in his art, and a truthful human being in his dealings.
What distinguishes Hammam is that purity rarely found in our time—I have never seen from him denial or deceit, and I am almost certain that all who know him share this certainty. He is generous to overflowing, truthful and unacquainted with falsehood. The highest meaning of this relationship is evident in our ongoing phone conversations, where we exchange opinions and share life's details in conversations filled with affection and refinement—to those beautiful moments in Britain hosted by him and my sister Maysoun, who shower me with great affection, especially through those Iraqi dishes that revive in the soul the flavor of homeland. Naturally, Maysoun's touches dominated the kitchen, as Hammam from the beginning preferred to be a 'connoisseur critic' rather than a cooking expert. I recall this with a smile from our first meeting in Malaysia; in his sincere desire to honor me, we found ourselves completely leaving the kitchen to embark on an exploratory journey of Malaysian and Indian flavors, making that visit a rich experience of diversity.
Hammam is the person you entrust with every small and large matter of your life, confident he will never let you down no matter the difficulties. He never refuses to offer help, and never withholds love and honor from those around him. Hammam has crafted for himself a constitution of high human principles and noble ethics that every person would wish for, remaining always a symbol of loyalty, an unwavering support, and a brother not born of days but refined by situations.
