The Kurdish relationship with Baghdad has long oscillated between partnership and confrontation, autonomy and estrangement. After two decades of post-2003 engagement with the Iraqi state—and failed attempts to unilaterally chart a separate path—what began as a unified Kurdish struggle for autonomy has evolved into a fundamental disagreement about how the Kurdistan Region should relate to the central government in Baghdad. This split is already reshaping the future of Kurdish politics and Iraq itself.

Historically, both the Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP) and the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK) pursued autonomy within Iraq, albeit from different ideological standpoints. The KDP, a nationalist and tribal-rooted party, and the PUK, which once presented itself as a progressive alternative, both viewed autonomy and later federalism as a protective mechanism for Kurdish self-rule. But as the post-Saddam state evolved, so too did Kurdish strategies. Deep involvement in Baghdad politics, the rise and fall of oil-fueled ambitions, and the fallout from the 2017 independence referendum have forced a reckoning.

Today, two broad paradigms define how Iraqi Kurds think about their place in Iraq.

The first is represented by the dominant wing of the KDP, particularly Massoud Barzani and his son Masrour Barzani. This approach sees the relationship with Baghdad as fundamentally transactional and adversarial. The premise is simple: a weak, fragmented Iraq is in the best interest of the Kurdistan Region. Baghdad’s instability enables Erbil to act unilaterally, maintain external patronage, and consolidate internal control. From this vantage, strengthening the Iraqi state poses an existential threat—one that could curtail Kurdish autonomy, expose corruption, and weaken the Barzani-led power structure. This view helps explain the KDP’s periodic alliances with Ba’athist figures, aggressive lobbying in Washington to counter Baghdad’s influence, and its resistance to agreements that would tie Kurdish oil revenues back to the federal system.

In contrast, a more emergent stream—often echoed by opposition parties, independent voices, and segments of Kurdish civil society—argues for a cooperative relationship with Baghdad grounded in mutual stability. This view sees Iraq’s strength not as a threat, but as a necessary condition for Kurdish prosperity. It contends that continued efforts to isolate Erbil from the rest of Iraq have proven self-defeating: the salary crises that have plagued the Region for over a decade, the stalled infrastructure development, and the shrinking public trust in governance are, in their view, symptoms of a failed policy of unilateralism. According to this camp, re-integrating into a more functional Iraqi state—while preserving constitutional autonomy—offers a pathway to sustainable development, reliable budgeting, and broader economic opportunity.

This view is also pragmatic: after the failure of the 2017 independence referendum, few now believe in the viability of full secession. If Kurdistan remains within Iraq, the logic goes, then it should seek to shape and benefit from a stronger Iraq—one that invests nationwide, including in the Region, and offers more stable governance to all.

These competing visions have created a cycle of mutual recrimination. When Baghdad fails to transfer funds to the Kurdistan Region, KDP leaders point to this as evidence of the central government’s hostile intentions—proof that only a defensive, transactional approach can protect Kurdish interests.

The cooperative camp offers a different interpretation: the funding disputes stem from the KRG’s failure to honor agreements with Baghdad, particularly regarding oil revenue sharing. They argue that the KDP’s adversarial approach has created the very problems it claims to solve.

While the specific dynamics may be uniquely Iraqi, the Kurdish debate reflects broader patterns observed by political scientists in fragile and federal states worldwide. The KDP’s approach mirrors what scholars term “dual sovereignty strategies” or “competitive state-building”—where subnational authorities maximize autonomy by keeping the central state weak or dysfunctional.

This model has precedents across the globe: from South Sudan’s relationship with Khartoum before independence, to Hezbollah’s position within Lebanon’s fractured system, to various wartime political orders where regional elites benefit more from central weakness than integration. In each case, local power brokers find that their influence and autonomy are best preserved when the center remains fragmented and dependent.

The emerging opposition paradigm, by contrast, resembles what scholars call “embedded autonomy strategies”—where local actors seek to preserve their identity and limited self-governance while investing in a stronger, more functional central state. This approach is rooted in the logic of “positive-sum federalism,” where regions and the center co-evolve toward mutual reinforcement, typically when full secession is either unviable or undesirable.

This cooperative institutionalism treats stability, infrastructure, and economic opportunity as collective goods that benefit all parties when the system functions effectively. It represents a bet that true autonomy comes not from isolation, but from being an indispensable part of a successful whole.

These two competing Kurdish visions reflect a deeper tension: one is rooted in power preservation through fragmentation; the other in collective stability through cooperation. While the former continues to dominate official Kurdish policy, the latter is gaining traction among citizens disillusioned with corruption, economic hardship, and regional isolation. As Iraq itself moves toward uncertain change, how the Kurds choose to engage with the center may shape not just their own future—but that of the entire federal state.