In rural Kurdistan, locally managed solar power is keeping villages running and opening new possibilities for farming and livelihoods.
Writer and analyst specialising in Kurdish affairs.
For years, the day in Kulak ended when the generator powered down. Like thousands of villages across Iraq, this small farming community in the semi-autonomous Kurdistan region lived to the faltering rhythm of an erratic power supply: a few hours of electricity, then the water pumps stopped, refrigerators warmed and children put down their books.
Today, Kulak runs on the sun. Solar panels harness its energy, batteries store the excess and residents have power 24/7. The change is visible beyond the homes: water pumps keep running, and cold storage gives farmers more control over when they sell their harvest.
This is the part of the energy transition the global climate conversation too often overlooks. Solar hardware is cheap; the world has learned how to install it. What matters is what comes after the panels go up: building the local capacity to keep the systems running and using reliable power to support farms, livelihoods and communities.
The energy transition will not be won in conference halls. It will be won, or lost, in places like Kulak.
Iraq’s energy story is usually told as a paradox. It is one of the world’s great oil producers, yet rural communities still endure daily power cuts. Summers now regularly push past 50 degrees, and the United Nations ranks Iraq among the nations most vulnerable to climate change. Drought has emptied farmland. Heat has made whole regions harder to live in. Rural families face a quiet, grinding choice between staying on land that can no longer sustain them or joining the drift towards overcrowded cities.
These pressures do not respect provincial boundaries. They are shared across Iraq, from the marshes of the south to the mountains of the north. They demand responses that work for the whole country.
For remote communities, decentralised power should not simply be treated as a stopgap while they wait for the grid. It can be part of the long-term answer.
Kulak is one of five villages in the Kurdistan region electrified through a solar initiative that pairs new infrastructure with local training and agricultural development. Residents are trained to operate and maintain their own systems, while research is under way into how reliable power can support local production.
Energy is treated not as a gift to be received but as an asset to be managed. That means looking beyond electricity itself to what it can enable: cold storage that allows farmers to hold their harvest for better prices, irrigation that no longer depends on diesel and processing that adds value before crops ever leave the village.
That distinction matters, because the graveyard of development is full of well-intentioned infrastructure. Anyone who has worked in this field has seen the solar array gathering dust because no one was trained to fix an inverter, or the water project abandoned when the foreign NGO moved on.
Sustainability is not a slogan; it is a design choice. Building local capability into a project from day one is the difference between a photo opportunity and a future.
There is a broader argument here for the climate movement.
The energy transition is overwhelmingly narrated from the top down: through COP plenaries, G7 communiques and the financing pledges of wealthy nations, many of them unmet. Yet for hundreds of millions of people in the Global South, the transition will arrive, if it arrives at all, through decentralised solutions built close to the ground.