Sixty-six kilometers east of Baghdad, the problem of accumulated solid waste is worsening at the “Al-Khalis” and “Kanaan” landfills in Iraq’s Diyala governorate. This investigation, based on documenting the lives of women and children working in waste picking as well as residents of nearby areas, reveals that operations at both landfills continue illegally, in defiance of ministerial closure orders and documented environmental violations.

This escalation is driven by the continued delivery of waste from the governorate’s municipalities. The Kanaan landfill alone receives waste from five municipalities, while the Al-Khalis landfill serves the municipality of Al-Khalis. This unlawful continuation exposes hundreds of families to serious health risks and sheds light on why Iraq’s environmental performance remains so poor: the country ranked 172nd globally in the 2024 Environmental Performance Index, which assessed 180 countries.

Shaimaa Alwan (46), a mother of seven orphans and a grandmother of two, stands amid the waste at the Kanaan landfill, recounting how displacement from Khanaqin forced her to work there. Despite her deteriorating eyesight and chronic joint pain, she had no alternative. As the primary breadwinner for her family, she works as a waste picker for only 20,000 Iraqi dinars a day, roughly $15, an amount that falls far short of meeting the needs of her large family.

Shaimaa’s hardship deepened when her only brother was diagnosed with leukemia, forcing her to work nights as well, “from one after midnight until three in the afternoon,” in an attempt to cover the steep cost of his treatment: 700,000 Iraqi dinars, about $530, every three days.

Between Saad Camp, where she lives with her family, and relying on waste picking at the Kanaan landfill to fend off poverty, Shaimaa spends each day on what she describes as a journey of “slow death.” She and her children suffer from skin and respiratory illnesses caused by constant exposure to waste, including hazardous medical refuse such as needles and chemical medicines, and even “human body parts,” as she puts it, greatly increasing the risk of infectious diseases.

The dangers and traumas Shaimaa and other waste pickers face are many and can at times bring them close to death. She recalls several incidents over her years working at the landfill, including one when she was bent over collecting items among piles of waste, wearing a black abaya. During a rush by waste pickers toward a garbage compactor, chaos broke out, prompting the driver to reverse without noticing her. She says she narrowly escaped being run over thanks to young men who spotted her and shouted at the driver to stop.

Shaimaa says others have suffered more serious injuries. She adds that repeated appeals have been made to officials “more than once, asking those in charge for protection papers, but no one is listening,” stressing a simple desire to live “with dignity.”

Waste picking at Kanaan and other landfills is informal and unregulated. Pickers have no legal permits to work at the sites, and their working conditions lack basic health and environmental safety standards. Yet Alaa Alwan, another waste picker, says that “if we don’t go out to work for even one day, we can’t survive,” despite harassment from municipal authorities and landfill management, living under “constant anxiety” amid threats of expulsion, and suffering injuries such as a broken hand and skin and intestinal diseases.

Hassan (14), wearing gloves that offer little protection from eczema and untreated wounds, says, “As soon as I became aware of life, I found myself here.”

Hassan has been working at the landfill for just two years. Despite his young age, his experience points to a broader absence of accountability. “Even the government is lost,” he says.

Yet the presence of waste pickers at the landfill suggests a parallel reality of tacit tolerance, allowing them to work, even those coming from other governorates.

Umm Saad (47) makes her way at dawn from Husseiniyat al-Ma‘amil in Baghdad to the Kanaan subdistrict with her eldest son to work inside the landfill. Forced to support her husband, who suffers from chronic illnesses, as well as her six sons and daughters, she works from early morning until the afternoon. “We collect cardboard and plastic, then sell them in Baghdad to make a living,” she says.

Umm Saad’s situation is no different from that of Shaimaa and other women who long for safe work and a dignified life. “Who would accept doing this exhausting job? I wish I could change my circumstances and live in my home among my family with dignity, without having to endure the cold, insects, and inhaling these foul smells every day.”

Less than an hour’s drive from the Kanaan landfill, a similar scene unfolds at the Al-Khalis landfill. Waste pickers breathe in the same stench, while smoke from fires drifts toward nearby villages.

Like Shaimaa and Umm Saad, Zakia, known as Umm Malik (57), spends her day collecting empty toothpaste tubes and Pepsi cans with bare hands, without any protective equipment. “I have no choice… I endure it,” she says, as she has “no other work to survive.” This grueling daily labor earns her only 5,000 Iraqi dinars a day, about $4, barely enough to cover her monthly rent of 160,000 dinars, roughly $123, keeping her at the poverty line.

Multiple factors forcibly push Umm Malik and other women into dangerous work, such as waste picking. Sara Jassim, a human rights defender, points to the intersection of “economic crises, weak social protection, and the absence of education and vocational training,” which places severe pressure on the most vulnerable women, particularly those who are the sole providers for their families. Jassim stresses that the lack of education is a fundamental barrier, noting that “in the absence of sustainable alternatives and safe employment opportunities,” women are prevented from accessing “decent work, trapping them in a closed cycle of poverty and marginalization that is difficult to break”.

Meanwhile, Hassan Ali Dakhil (15), a student supporting a family of nine from the “Dour al-Dawajin” area in Al-Khalis district, works at the landfill from morning until noon for 7,000 to 8,000 Iraqi dinars, about $6 a day, despite suffering from shortness of breath due to the smoke. He still dreams: “My ambition is to become an officer. God willing, I will become an officer.”

Other testimonies from waste pickers underscore the scale of the risks they face, compelled by the lack of any alternative source of income. Salah Mahdi, head of the Diyala office of the High Commission for Human Rights, notes that waste picking has become a “profession” sustaining hundreds of families. Those engaged in it suffer injuries and cuts from sharp debris and endure respiratory and skin diseases caused by toxic fumes they inhale daily.

Defying Ministerial Closure Orders: Law on Paper Only… Bans on Burning and Hazardous Waste

Allowing waste pickers to work inside landfills is just one facet of the landfills’ violations of environmental standards and requirements, particularly those stipulated under Iraqi law and international conventions. The ongoing burning documented by this investigation through on-site observations at the Al-Khalis and Kanaan landfills starkly contradicts the provisions of Iraq’s Environmental Protection and Improvement Law No. (27) of 2009.

The law aims to “prevent pollution of surface and groundwater and air,” explicitly bans the “burning of solid waste” in or near residential areas, mandates waste classification, and prohibits mixing hazardous waste with other types of waste.

According to the National Strategy for 2024–2030, dumping waste in sites that lack municipal approval remains the most commonly used method in subdistricts for disposing of municipal waste.

Kanaan Landfill: A Ministry-Issued Closure Order and Unenforced Fines

Documents obtained by the investigative team reveal a persistent disregard for fine decisions and closure orders, raising questions about the ability of executive authorities to enforce environmental law and protect public health.

Legal action against the Kanaan landfill began in June 2016, when a “closure order” was issued to the intermediate waste collection station operated by the Baqubah Municipality Directorate for functioning “without obtaining the ministry’s approval.”

A year later, a direct “closure order” was issued against the “Kanaan landfill site,” according to a document from the Ministry of Health and Environment, Legal Department, after the site failed to coordinate with the Department of Environment Protection and Improvement to secure the required environmental approvals.

Both decisions stipulated closure for a period of 30 days, automatically renewable until environmental approvals are obtained, in accordance with Article 11 of the Environmental Protection and Improvement Law No. 27 of 2009, which prohibits carrying out environmentally impactful activities without prior approval from the ministry.

Despite the direct closure order issued in 2017, violations at the Kanaan landfill continued, prompting an escalation of legal measures without any fundamental change on the ground. This was confirmed by confidential documents (seen or reviewed) by the investigation team.

Following the issuance of an official warning to the Kanaan landfill, the Department of Environment Protection and Improvement in the Central Region imposed a substantial financial fine in 2020 for non-compliance, to be renewed monthly until the violation was remedied, indicating the accumulation of significant sums against the responsible authority.

Four years after the imposition of the monthly fine, records reviewed by the investigative team show that the Diyala Environment Directorate was compelled to issue a new warning demanding payment of the accumulated fine, underscoring the ongoing violation and continued failure to pay.

The situation has yet to change. Findings from a recent monitoring visit on May 27, 2025, confirm that the crisis at Kanaan persists. The technical report reviewed by the investigative team shows that the site continues to operate without environmental approvals and lacks even the most basic environmental requirements, such as leachate drainage pipes or gas venting systems. The report also notes the presence of fires and stray dogs inside the site.

For his part, Engineer Bassam Al-Hadithi, head of the Environment Department at the Baqubah Municipality, defended the site, stating that it had obtained “all approvals from the relevant authorities,” numbering 13 government departments. At the same time, however, he acknowledged that it does not have approval from the Ministry of Environment, noting that the landfill is located 2 kilometers away.

An official at the Diyala Environment Directorate, who requested anonymity, confirmed that the landfill cannot be closed at present, as it serves several municipalities in the governorate and there is currently no alternative for waste disposal for a population of 700,000 people.

Although the landfill has not obtained an official license, the official indicated that its current condition is better than before. The site is now surrounded by a trench, all machinery is operational, and a camera system has been installed to control waste pickers and fires. She stressed, however, that these improvements do not negate the fact that the site remains in violation of environmental requirements.

Regarding the Al-Khalis landfill, which residents have complained about, the same official said the directorate received an official letter in August calling for the opening of a new sanitary landfill that meets environmental standards and for the closure of the current site. According to documents reviewed by the investigative team, the Al-Khalis landfill operates without environmental approval, and on August 6, 2025, the Diyala Environment Directorate sent a letter to the Al-Khalis Municipality Directorate instructing it to take the necessary measures to halt operations at the current site and move to the alternative location.

The documents indicate that this step was taken based on a “joint field visit” by the Diyala Environment Directorate and the district commissioner of Al-Khalis. They also stress the need to “complete environmental procedures and approvals” for the new site before relocating, a step that had not been implemented at the time of publication.

As for the remaining landfills in Diyala, the official at the Diyala Environment Directorate confirmed that all sites, including Khanaqin, Qara Tappa, Jalawla, Saadiya, and Hamrin, as well as the dumps of Khan Bani Saad and Baladruz, lack any environmental approvals.

Open Burning

Aws Nawfal Al-Tiyawi, a researcher and academic at the College of Environmental Sciences at the University of Mosul, specializing in environmental technologies and waste treatment, warns that informal landfills leave a “cumulative footprint that lasts for decades” of environmental and health pollution. Al-Tiyawi explains that the toxic leachate produced by decomposing waste contaminates groundwater, increasing the risk of cancer and chronic diseases.

Open burning releases dangerous gases such as methane, along with dioxins, which degrade air quality. Local reports and medical studies have documented an increase in respiratory and skin diseases. Academic research has also established a link between elevated concentrations of heavy metals in soil and water around landfills and the emergence of kidney and gastrointestinal diseases. Studies further show that children exposed to these pollutants experience a decline in school performance, while older people become more vulnerable to asthma attacks.

Salah Mahdi, head of the Diyala office of the High Commission for Human Rights, points out that the burning that pollutes village skies is not carried out by waste pickers alone, but also by “shovelers” (municipal workers), and at times by poultry farm owners who burn spoiled chickens.

This aligns with the testimony of Mahdi Saleh, a teacher in the village of Sadat Bani Jamil, who noted that waste is being dumped at the “municipal facility” located next to Al-Furatayn Mixed School, at a distance of no more than 100 meters. This produces “intense” odors that prevent students and teachers from remaining inside classrooms.

Displacement and the Absence of Parliamentary Oversight

With every fire that breaks out, the tragedy deepens in the village of Al-Sadat Bani Jamil, near the Al-Khalis landfill.

Umm Mohammad (25) recounts how her son, now one year and one month old, nearly lost his life. He developed “chronic chest allergies and asthma” after being exposed to dense smoke rising from the landfill when he was just five months old. His condition deteriorated to “the point of death… and he was put on a ventilator.” Today, the child is still “living on medication” and cannot tolerate any dust or odors. The mother says this situation is common in their village of around 30 households: “All our children suffer from respiratory diseases and allergies,” requiring weekly doctor visits to monitor their conditions.

According to the medical follow-up conducted by Umm Mohammad, there is a clear link between the worsening of respiratory illnesses and exposure to smoke caused by burning at the landfill.

As a result, the only options left for Umm Mohammad and her son are either displacement or waiting indefinitely for the landfill to be closed and replaced with a waste recycling facility as a sustainable solution.

This reality is echoed by Sajid Khattab (20), a university student from the village of Abu Tamer, located just 900 meters from the Al-Khalis landfill. He says the scale of illness has reached shocking levels: “Almost every day, around 30 children are admitted to hospital” due to allergies and suffocation. This forces children to remain confined indoors: “We’re trapped inside our homes. We can’t open the windows or go outside,” he says, as smoke and gas “are suffocating us.”

The suffering of residents with existing health conditions is compounded. The health of Umm Yasser (27), who has undergone a kidney transplant, is deteriorating, forcing her husband, Mustafa, to take her out of the house whenever smoke intensifies, following her doctor’s instructions that she must not be exposed to “any smell of smoke.” It is a daily ordeal for Umm Yasser and her husband, who laments: “We’re in the year 2025. We should be living in an age of technology, but we’re still living amid smoke and the same problems, as if time has stood still.”

This deterioration has led residents, according to testimonies given to the investigative team, to threaten what they describe as “environmental displacement.” “If things continue like this, we will leave the village,” they say. The smoke, they add, “comes so thick that you can’t see the person next to you. We suffocate… it’s like we’re living in the middle of garbage.” Despite repeated appeals, they say they have found no response: “We published and appealed to the media 70 times,” yet lawmakers “see the posts, but no one moves.”

According to the parliamentary Human Rights Committee, the risk of displacement is real in light of the widespread neglect of environmental pollution across Iraq.

Institutional Failures and Official Responsibility: Immunity and Corruption

Dr. Najlaa Al-Waeli, technical director at the Ministry of Environment, confirms that many landfills lack environmental approval. She points to three landfills in Baghdad—Nahrawan, Al-Nabaai, and Al-Husseiniya—and nine landfills in Diyala, all operating without environmental approval except for the Hamrin landfill in Al-Muqdadiya. She explains that the Ministry of Environment takes legal measures against violating sites by issuing warnings, imposing fines, and ordering temporary closures. However, she notes that the ministry is restricted from filing lawsuits against public sector activities under Article 80 of the Iraqi Penal Code.

“Legal entities, with the exception of government interests and official or semi-official departments, are criminally liable for crimes committed by their representatives, managers, or agents on their behalf or in their name. They may only be sentenced to fines, confiscation, or precautionary measures stipulated by law. If the law prescribes a principal penalty other than a fine, it shall be replaced by a fine. This does not prevent the personal punishment of the perpetrator under the penalties prescribed by law.”

On October 15, 2024, the Council of Ministers issued a decision obligating ministries to take urgent measures, including activating the role of the “Environmental Police” to address waste and stop landfill fires, and establishing regulated landfills in accordance with environmental standards.

However, the implementation of these decisions remains contingent on activating accountability mechanisms and breaking the wall of legal immunity embodied in Article 80 of the Iraqi Penal Code.

Parliamentary efforts are also of limited effectiveness. Attempts by the Parliamentary Health and Environment Committee are largely confined to summoning municipal officials, who may respond by issuing official letters, closure warnings, and fines without actual enforcement.

Miqdam Al-Jumaili, deputy head of the Parliamentary Health and Environment Committee, attributes the persistence of non-compliant landfills to “government weakness and the deep entrenchment of corruption across all state institutions.”

Ali Jassim Al-Hamidaoui, head of the Parliamentary Services and Reconstruction Committee, likewise confirms that unregulated landfills operate in a “world of corruption.” He reveals that 90 percent of waste in Iraqi cities is not properly collected, noting that waste transport in Baghdad passes through four stages and 15 transfer stations, leading to waste accumulation and frequent fires. He also confirms that “no sorting takes place at landfills.”

Wasted Wealth: The Garbage Trade and Lost Investment

Official figures highlight the scale of the national crisis. Iraq produces approximately 50,000 tons of solid waste per day. According to the National Development Plan 2024–2028 issued by the Iraqi Ministry of Planning, 149 out of 221 landfill sites lack environmental approval. This has placed Iraq 172nd out of 180 countries in the 2024 Environmental Performance Index (EPI). In the waste category, Iraq ranks 170th globally, reflecting extremely poor performance and mismanagement of solid waste. Recycling rates do not exceed 10 percent of total waste, and Iraq currently has only one operational waste recycling facility nationwide.

According to Hussein Hamid Hassan, whose work at the Al-Khalis landfill is limited to collecting cardboard, what he gathers is sold in Baghdad at fluctuating prices, with a ton fetching between 130,000 and 140,000 Iraqi dinars, roughly $100. In a single day, he collects between 500 kilograms and one ton of cardboard, which is compacted on site and then sent to Sulaymaniyah.

These large quantities feed an informal trade. Qassem, a waste trading contractor in Baqubah, purchases recyclable materials from waste pickers and sends them to specialized recycling plants in other areas. Metal is transported to factories in the Kurdistan Region, such as FF and PGCT in Sulaymaniyah, while plastic is sent to recycling facilities in Baghdad.

This trade demonstrates that waste represents a squandered resource, even as investors interested in recycling projects struggle with months-long bureaucratic “procedural loops,” largely because landfills are located on land belonging to either the Ministry of Finance or the Ministry of Agriculture, according to the director of the Human Rights Commission.

Sorting as a Sustainable Solution to Reducing the Carbon Footprint

Engineer Marwa Adeeb, founder of the “Duweira” project, stresses that adopting an integrated waste management system is an “essential component” for achieving a “tangible reduction” in the volume of waste that is landfilled or burned. Adeeb explains that sorting and treatment can significantly reduce environmental harm by converting food waste, paper, and cardboard into organic compost. This process limits “the leakage of pollutants into soil and groundwater, reduces gas emissions, and ultimately lowers the carbon footprint”.

Engineer Adeeb also emphasizes a set of practical steps that can be adopted at both community and local government levels. These include organizing field programs in universities, schools, and public institutions to promote proper environmental behavior in waste sorting; implementing waste separation systems in streets and homes; and supporting initiatives that seek to entrench these practices. Adeeb argues that spreading a culture of recycling by highlighting its economic benefits, regulating and facilitating the sale of scrap, and creating a local materials economy would reduce open burning. She believes that successful implementation of these measures in some areas would enable citizens and specialized actors to rely on their results to pressure for the enforcement of legislation.

Experts interviewed by the investigative team also recommend updating the Solid Waste Management Law, allocating independent budgets to close unregulated landfills, and establishing a national waste management committee with “real authority.”

Alongside proposals that address correcting waste sector management from an environmental and regulatory perspective, Jassim stresses the need to review the sector through the lens of entrenched corruption, which has turned it into “a microcosm of an economy that exploits women rather than empowers them.”

She adds that maintaining this structure means “keeping women trapped in informal work, without legal protection, social security, or opportunities for advancement.” Jassim calls on the government to adopt a binding and comprehensive plan to transition from this “exploitative economy to a fair one,” by regulating work in the waste sector, providing decent employment alternatives, and enabling women’s access to resources and safe job opportunities, as part of its “responsibility to achieve social and economic justice.”

If accompanied by strict enforcement of legislation and the dismantling of legal immunity, these steps could offer relief to Diyala’s residents from the smoke of burning waste and the long-term health damage to soil and groundwater. Applied nationwide, they would protect citizens from what has become synonymous with a slow death.