Travels in Isis country: priests, Peshmerga and property developers

Arriving in Erbil, you don’t feel you are in Iraq, but another country altogether, which is what the Kurds would like. The city’s outer ring is shiny and new, a touch of Dubai in the smooth highways and glittering hotels. A London property developer told me he had made a 40 per cent return in Erbil. He was Jewish, too — might have been a different story in Baghdad. The Kurds are proud of their embryonic capital: open for business; tolerant of all faiths; you can even get a drink. But two weeks ago Erbil was seized by panic, the Islamic State almost at the gates. A diplomat told me the security forces were on the point of fleeing. The US airstrikes steadied nerves.

It’s been suggested the Kurds have been living off their reputation for military prowess. It is 20 years since they fought a serious battle, except among themselves. Peshmerga recruits are no longer hardy mountain boys who grew up with a rifle over the shoulder, said one commentator: they know weapons only from Call of Duty. In several towns where the Islamic State advanced into Kurdish territory, the defenders simply ran, officers first (including some with ‘quite famous names,’ according to my diplomat friend). One town, Makhmour, was recaptured after US airstrikes began. We watched the reinforcements taunting the townsmen with accusations of cowardice. Stung, the men shouted back: ‘We didn’t bend our knee to Saddam — and we won’t surrender to the Islamic State.’

During the Erbil ‘wobble’ the Kurds deployed a very capable Special Forces unit. Its commander, Polad Talabani, grew up in Beckenham, south London, with his brother Lahur, now head of Kurdish intelligence. Both greet you with a cheery Estuary English ‘All right mate’.