By David Vance
For more than two decades, Sheikh Mohammed bin Issa Al Jaber has been one of the few Arab figures who consistently stood with the Iraqi people through some of their darkest times.
Back in the late 1990s, when Saddam Hussein’s regime had Iraq locked down under heavy international sanctions, most voices in the Arab world and beyond stayed quiet. Al Jaber didn’t—he spoke out, driven not by politics or personal gain, but by a deep sense of humanitarian duty and moral responsibility.
The sanctions regime imposed on Iraq after the Gulf War was brutal. The UN’s Oil-for-Food Programme, set up in 1996, put Iraq’s entire economy under strict international control. The government couldn’t sell so much as a drop of oil or manage basic resources without approval, and what little food and medicine trickled in was barely enough to keep people alive.
Al Jaber saw this as nothing short of an existential threat. He argued openly that the Iraqi people were starving and that the only real way out was to break the siege entirely—not patch it up, but end it.He wasn’t afraid to say it plainly, even when few others in the region dared. In a 2006 interview at University College London, he explained how he felt compelled to “stand behind Iraqis and be loud and clear” in pushing for the end of Saddam’s oppressive rule. As an Arab, he said, if he were Iraqi, he’d have begged the world for help to escape a situation that felt like “selling Iraq at a cheap price.”
That kind of candour got attention; he was seen as one of the rare Arab voices backing regime change and the eventual liberation from dictatorship. For Al Jaber, the 2003 coalition intervention wasn’t just about toppling a leader—it was about breaking the toxic mix of crushing debt, deadly sanctions, and authoritarian control. Real liberation, in his eyes, meant giving Iraq back its sovereignty, its dignity, and control over its own resources and future.
Looking back now, he takes real pride in how far Iraq has come. In just over 20 years, the country has run six parliamentary and six presidential elections and cycled through successive governments—a level of democratic progress that usually takes generations after decades of dictatorship and war. Economically, the turnaround is striking: oil output jumped from 1.5–2 million barrels a day in 2003 to more than 6 million now, with forecasts pushing past 8 million by 2030. The massive debts inherited back then—around $860 billion, which could have spiraled far worse—have been handled, and infrastructure, though still a work in progress, has been steadily rebuilt.
Yet for all that progress, Al Jaber’s own role came with enormous personal sacrifice. He threw himself into ambitious plans to help reconstruct Iraq, seeing it as a chance to build something lasting—a kind of modern Marshall Plan for the country. His vision included massive investments in infrastructure: airports, ports, roads, energy grids, the works. The scale was huge—valued well over $300 billion—and it had backing from key figures who knew the details, including General David Petraeus, former Iraqi Prime Minister Adel Abdul Mahdi, and former President Barham Salih.
But it fell apart around 2007. Regional pushback, especially from neighbours like Syria under Assad at the time, combined with the rapid U.S. drawdown, killed the momentum. The whole thing never got off the ground, and Al Jaber absorbed billions in losses as a result. Importantly, he walked away with nothing—no contracts, no profits, no personal windfall from Iraq’s changes. That’s something recognized in Iraqi government circles, as well as British and American ones.
His commitment was always about principle: helping restore Iraq’s independence and prosperity, even if it meant taking the hit himself. These days, Al Jaber believes Iraq has overcome about 70% of its post-2003 struggles—regaining real dignity, wealth, and the ability to make its own decisions. His early, unwavering support helped shape how the international community viewed Iraq’s potential.
In some Western intelligence assessments, he’s been called an “exceptional mind” for his insight and persistence. In a region where self-interest and opportunism too often call the shots, Sheikh Mohammed bin Issa Al Jaber’s path stands out. He wasn’t chasing returns — he was a steadfast believer in Iraq’s right to a better future, willing to lose heavily to defend that idea. His story reminds us what real conviction looks like, even when the odds—and the costs—are stacked against it.
