At Najaf, a holy city in Iraq, the majestic sanctuary of Imam Ali is now unusually calm: its vast courtyards, once crowded with pilgrims from around the world, many from Iran and Lebanon, are now deserted.
Neighboring markets have shopkeepers and hoteliers passing the time in boredom. Days drag on as they wait for visitors to revive local activity.
Normally, millions of Shiite Muslims from around the world flock each year to the holy cities of Najaf and Karbala. But the war in the Middle East sparked by an American-Israeli offensive against Tehran on February 28 has interrupted this constant influx from Iran, Lebanon, the Gulf, India, and Afghanistan.
“Iranians were our livelihood, whether we were jewelers, fabric merchants, or taxi drivers. Today, they are no longer here,” laments Abdelrahim Harmouch, a jewelry store owner in Najaf.
In the midst of the regional conflict, Iraq has closed its airspace to missiles and warplanes since the conflict began, with strikes targeting American interests and pro-Iranian armed groups in the country.
For 38 years, Mr. Harmouch has operated his shop in the old covered market, a few meters from the golden-domed mausoleum which is the burial place of Ali, son-in-law of the Prophet Muhammad, the fourth caliph of Islam, and the first Shiite Imam.
In the holy cities, “we rely on religious tourism,” he notes, warning that if the crisis continues, the entire population is at risk of bankruptcy: merchants unable to pay rent, taxi drivers without clients, and workers struggling to find work.
Abou Ali, a 52-year-old hotelier, had to reluctantly lay off five of his employees. He now keeps only one to maintain his 70 empty rooms: “how can we pay salaries if there is no work?”
According to Saeb Abou Ghneim, head of the Najaf Hoteliers Association, 80% of the city’s 250 establishments have closed, leaving over 2,000 employees unemployed or on unpaid leave.
This is a second major blow to the sector after the Covid-19 pandemic.
In a country marred by decades of chaos, pilgrimage is virtually the only form of tourism and remains a pillar of the Iraqi economy outside of oil.
Before the war, 28-year-old Moustafa al-Haboubi continuously served the crowds coming to exchange currencies.
Now, like his colleagues, he passes the time on his phone or chatting with neighbors.
Even the ceasefire that took effect on April 8 and the reopening of the skies have not brought back the crowds. Pilgrims are scarce during the week, with only weekends seeing the sanctuary come to life a bit thanks to Iraqi families.
The situation is similar in Karbala, 80 kilometers to the north, where the sanctuaries of the Prophet’s grandsons, Imams Hussein and Abbas, stand.
The broad esplanade connecting the two golden domes and the adjacent alleys, once filled with the fervor of the faithful, are now only frequented by locals.
“The situation is perilous… it’s a catastrophe,” laments Israa al-Nasrawi, head of the tourism committee.
According to her, the war has devastated the local economy, causing a 95% drop in visitors and forcing hundreds of hotels to close.
The city is dotted with travel agencies, but their activities have come to a halt.
Akram Radi mentions that his company is now operating at only 10% capacity, after welcoming up to 1,000 visitors per month. After 16 years in the industry, he fears having to close down.

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