Asymmetric Spillover Violence in KRI: Toll of Incomplete Sovereignty

Imad Farhadi

Written by Imad Farhadi, Senior professional in diplomacy, research, and strategic relations and founder of iNNOV8 Research Centre.

Here I argue that the ongoing strikes on the Kurdistan Region of Iraq (KRI) are an acute example of asymmetric spillover of violence and that the KRI’s constitutional ambiguity exposes it to unsolicited attacks without the recourse of sovereign self-defence mechanisms. Additionally, I argue that this ambiguity in the status of KRI is a critical flaw in the treatment of federal substates within the international system, urging the development of international norms to protect entities trapped between partial autonomy and total sovereignty. Furthermore, I critique the international media’s failure to adequately cover this phenomenon, arguing that the substate blind spot in global reporting inadvertently encourages external state and non-state actors.

Since the start of this conflict in late February 2026, the Kurdistan Region of Iraq has been subjected to a continuous and unprecedented wave of asymmetric violence. As the broader regional hostilities between state and non-state actors have escalated, the KRI has endured over 450 drone and ballistic missile strikes. Despite consistent, explicit declarations of neutrality from the Kurdistan Regional Government (KRG) and the leaders of the influential political parties, reiterating that the Region is a factor of peace and not a belligerent in the wider conflict, the human and structural toll continues to mount.

On 24 March 2026, this vulnerability was tragically underscored when a barrage of ballistic missiles struck Peshmerga bases in the Soran district of Erbil province. The attack, which external aggressors later characterised as a “mistake,” resulted in the deaths of six Peshmerga personnel and wounded roughly 30 others. In total, the violence of early 2026 has claimed over 20 lives and wounded dozens more, including civilians, security personnel, and displaced persons.

This violence presents the following paradox: how does a nonbelligerent entity, one that has actively distanced itself from participation in regional conflicts, become a theater for cross-border aggression? The answer doesn’t lie in the agency or actions of the KRI but in its structural ambiguity. The KRI exists in a state of partial sovereignty. Under the umbrella of Iraq’s federal system, the region possesses administrative autonomy but lacks the independent military tools necessary for a sovereign state to defend itself.

To understand the KRI’s exposure to asymmetric violence, one must examine the legal foundation that governs its existence. The Iraqi Constitution of 2005 establishes a federal system that grants the KRI, currently the only federal entity within Iraq, significant self-governance yet fundamentally restricts its capacity for self-defense against external threats.

Articles 117 through 124 of the Iraqi constitution form the bases of the KRI’s legal status; it recognises the region and its existing authorities and grants it broad legislative, executive, and judicial powers over its internal affairs. This framework resulted in a relatively stable and prosperous substate entity. However, this autonomy is strictly internal.

Article 110 of the constitution delineates the exclusive authorities of the federal government in Baghdad. Crucially, these include formulating foreign policy and diplomatic representation, formulating and executing national security policy, and managing the armed forces to secure the protection and guarantee the security of Iraq’s borders and to defend Iraq. Therefore, while the KRG can govern its internal population, it possesses zero legal authority to engage in binding diplomatic treaties, with some exceptions that have caused outrage in Baghdad, or with neighboring states to secure its borders, nor can it legally procure the advanced military hardware—such as integrated air defense systems—required to deter ballistic missile or drone attacks.

This constitutional ambiguity is most evident in the status of the Peshmerga forces.

The constitution recognises the Peshmerga as the legitimate regional security apparatus of the KRI, responsible for internal security. However, they are structurally subordinate to the federal defense apparatus. They do not control sovereign airspace, and they are reliant on Baghdad for most defence acquisitions, including advanced air defense.

When external actors launch ballistic missiles at Peshmerga bases in Soran or deploy suicide drones against infrastructure in Erbil, the KRG is structurally paralysed, and the targets are sitting ducks. It cannot launch a military counter-offensive without violating the federal constitution, nor can it independently summon the United Nations Security Council or other international bodies to address such infringements. The KRI is trapped: it is visible enough to be targeted by regional, state, and non-state actors seeking to project power but constitutionally restrained from defending itself. The KRI must go through Baghdad to summon diplomats and file protests—a process that is often too slow or is heavily influenced by the central government’s own complex alignments with the very actors attacking the KRI.

The repeated targeting of the KRI is not a random byproduct of proximity; it is a strategically calculated choice by external actors. Traditional International Relations (IR) theories, particularly Realism and Neorealism, emphasise that the state is the primary actor in an anarchic international system, focusing on balancing of power and survival. However, when these theories are applied to the substate level, they elucidate why federal regions like the KRI become preferred battlegrounds for proxy conflicts.

In the geography of proxy aggression in the anarchic regional order, especially in the context of the Middle East, states and powerful non-state actors seek to balance against their adversaries, project power, and test red lines. A direct engagement of state-on-state warfare is highly costly and carries the risks of catastrophic retaliation. Striking a sovereign capital like Baghdad, or engaging directly with rival superpowers, crosses established international thresholds and may trigger severe diplomatic, economic, or military responses.

Alternatively, striking a substate entity with vague status offers a low-risk, high-reward alternative. External aggressors can launch hundreds of drones and missiles into the KRI to signal displeasure, retaliate against perceived adversarial presence, or project domestic strength, knowing that the structural limitations of the KRI prevent a reciprocal response. This is the essence of asymmetric spillover violence. The asymmetry is not only limited to military capability but also to legal status. In such cases as KRI’s, the aggressors utilise the tools of a sovereign state or state-backed actors, while the victim is bound by the constraints of a region with substate status.

Through this theoretical lens, the KRI is not a participant in the broader regional war of 2026 but rather a geographical mechanism for external actors to communicate with one another. When neighbouring states claim to be targeting foreign intelligence assets or opposition groups within the KRI, they are leveraging the region’s incomplete sovereignty to conduct operations they would not dare attempt in fully sovereign, uniformly defended territories. The deaths of the six Peshmerga on 24 March, and the civilian casualties preceding them, are the ultimate manifestation of this unsolicited collateral damage. They are victims of a structural void where the protections of statehood are absent, but the consequences of regional geopolitics are acutely present.

While the constitutional and theoretical frameworks provide the “why,” the data from the first quarter of 2026 provides the “how”—a grim catalog of asymmetric aggression. Between 1 February and late March 2026, the KRI has faced a sustained campaign of aerial bombardment that defies the definition of traditional low-intensity conflict.

The scale, frequency, and precision of these attacks indicate a shift from sporadic harassment to a calculated exploitation of KRI’s defencelessness.

The volume of ordnance deployed and the frequency of the attacks against a nonbelligerent substate are staggering. Data aggregated from local security sources and international monitoring groups (such as the CPT and regional health directorates) confirms over 450 separate strike events in less than 60 days. These are not merely mortar rounds across a border; they include sophisticated suicide drones and ballistic missiles.

The untold toll extends beyond the casualty list. The KRI’s economic stability—built on energy exports and foreign investment—is being systematically eroded. Attacks on the Khor Mor gas field and proximity strikes near the Fishkhabur pipeline have forced multiple temporary shutdowns. This does not just hurt the KRG; it weakens the entire Iraqi federal energy grid, yet the KRI bears 100% of the physical risk.

In cities like Erbil and Sulaymaniyah, the persistent hum of unidentified drones has created a state of perpetual trauma. Unlike sovereign states that are able to declare war and mobilise their defences, the KRI exists in a state of limbo—aware of the threat but legally barred from the tools to mitigate it.

Perhaps the most damaging aspect of the KRI’s current crisis is its invisibility in the global information and media space. A content analysis of major international news outlets (including CNN, BBC, and Al Jazeera English) during the February–March 2026 period reveals a profound substate blind spot.

When a sovereign state in the Persian Gulf or the Levant is targeted by a single drone, it frequently triggers “Breaking News” banners and emergency Security Council sessions. In contrast, the 450-plus strikes on the KRI are routinely buried within broader headlines that depict a rise in regional tensions or address the deterioration in Iraq’s internal stability. By aggregating the violence into generic Middle Eastern or Iraq-focused narratives, the unprovoked nature of the attacks on the KRI is lost in the coverage.

This gap in media coverage is driven primarily by three factors:

The Sovereign Bias: International journalism is structurally geared toward state-on-state interaction. Because the KRI is not a member of the UN, its narrative is filtered through Baghdad. If Baghdad chooses to downplay an attack for diplomatic reasons, the international media follows suit.

Exhaustion of Narrative: The KRI has been a theater of conflict for decades. News editors and media outlets often fall into the mundane routine of normalised violence, where the death of Peshmerga personnel in 2026 is treated as a status quo, a continuation of the old narrative, or an event rather than a breach of international norms.

Complexity vs. Clicks: Explaining the constitutional nuance of a nonbelligerent federal substate is difficult for 24-hour news cycles. It is far easier to frame the strikes as part of a proxy war between major powers, effectively erasing the KRI’s agency and its status as an innocent bystander.

This silence is not merely an academic concern; it is a tactical asset for aggressors. When an attack on the KRI occurs without an international outcry, the cost of the aggression remains low. The lack of media visibility prevents the formation of an international shaming mechanism that might otherwise deter regional actors. For the KRI, being “untold” is synonymous with being “unprotected.”

When a sovereign country is attacked, it can go to the UN and demand a ceasefire. When the KRI is attacked, it must wait for a middleman (Baghdad) to speak on its behalf. This creates a protection gap where the KRI is peaceful enough to be a successful autonomy but not “state enough” to be protected by global safety nets. To the average observer, this means that even if you aren’t part of a war, you can be treated like a target simply because the legal shield over your head has holes in it.

The continued attacks do more than destroy buildings; they are quietly dismantling the very idea of federalism in the Middle East. The KRI has long been held up as a successful federal experiment—a way for a specific ethnic or regional group to have its own government while staying part of a larger country. However, if being part of a federal system means you are left defenceless against relentless attacks, the experiment begins to look like a trap.

Each strike on a Peshmerga base—like the one on 24 March—widens the gap between the people of the KRI and the federal system that is supposed to safeguard them. If the world continues to watch in silence, it sends a dangerous message to other regions seeking autonomy: Independence is the only way to be safe. To prevent this silent erosion, the international community must recognise that attacking a peaceful federal substate is just as much a violation of peace as attacking a sovereign capital.

The story of the KRI in 2026 is one of a non-belligerent entity paying a sovereign price for a substate status. The casualty toll is staggering. These are not the statistics of a region at war; they are the statistics of a region being used as a geopolitical punching bag because it lacks the legal tools to punch back.

The untold toll persists because the international community allows KRI’s status to remain vague. To protect the future of the region—and the lives of the Peshmerga and civilians caught in the crossfire—the international community must:

A- Support the KRI’s right to defencive tools (like air defence) that do not threaten neighbours but do protect lives.

B- Restructure the international norms; they must evolve to protect non-belligerent federal regions from becoming spillover battlegrounds. The KRI does not want to be part of the conflict. It is time the international community ensures it doesn’t have to be.

C- Demand Media Visibility: Stop burying KRI strikes in general Iraq and wider Middle East-focused coverage of the conflict.