Iraq 2025 parliamentary elections
How votes are won, what results could mean for Iraq’s fragile stability
By Renad Mansour
Scholar, director of Iraq Initiative at Chatham House
Iraq’s parliamentary elections are set to take place on November 11, 2025. Yet despite the streets being adorned with campaign posters, there is little buzz in the air. Many Iraqis are expected to stay at home, having grown disillusioned with the ability of elections to deliver change in the two decades of democracy since the US-led regime change.
There is already a broad consensus on the likely results of the election. Prime Minister Mohammed Shia al-Sudani’s electoral list is widely seen as the frontrunner, with the ruling coalition of Shia parties under the Shia Coordination Framework expected to retain power through a consensus government that includes the major Kurdish and Sunni blocs.
However, Sudani himself is seen as unlikely to remain prime minister even if his list wins the most votes: This will instead be decided in the complex post-election government formation talks between parties. After every previous vote, the election winner has not gone on to become prime minister.
Yet, despite these foreseeable outcomes, the elections remain intensely contested. The major blocs are pouring vast funds into their campaigns. As former prime minister Haider al-Abadi admits, the election “will not depend primarily on popularity; It will depend on spending money, it will depend on buying votes.”
Indeed, the election is less a referendum on government performance than an opportunity for deeply entrenched party elites to recalibrate power among themselves. The seats won at the polls will serve as bargaining chips, which elites deploy alongside other levers of power — including violence and street mobilization — as parties vie for senior government positions.
The outcome of this bargaining could test Iraq’s stability. The country is entering the election from a rare moment of calm, which rests on a fragile elite pact that has traded reform for order. If the process proceeds smoothly, it will reaffirm Iraq’s managed stability through another cycle of competition within the system. But if rival factions perceive an imbalance or attempt to disrupt long-standing arrangements, even momentary instability could shake Iraq’s fragile equilibrium.
How does democracy work in Iraq?
Iraq’s constitution, which was ratified by referendum in 2005, established the country as a parliamentary democracy with the Council of Representatives as its elected legislature.
Every four years, registered citizens across all 19 provinces of Iraq (including those within the Kurdistan Region) are meant to vote for 329 members of the Council of Representatives.
Theoretically, the Council of Representatives then nominates the president, a largely ceremonial position, who then nominates a prime minister from the “largest bloc” within parliament. However, the largest bloc is not necessarily the bloc that won the most seats in the election, but rather the largest coalition, and the process of government formation involves protracted negotiations and bargaining between parties.
While the system does not explicitly divide power by ethnicity or religious sect on paper, in practice, it remains deeply shaped by the ethno-sectarian order that was institutionalized after 2003.
Politics has become tethered to identity. Shias primarily vote for Shia parties, Sunnis for Sunni ones, and Kurds for their respective Kurdish groups. Under an informal agreement in place since 2005, the prime minister has been a Shia, the president a Kurd, and the parliamentary speaker a Sunni Arab.
Who is contesting Iraq elections?
Twenty years ago, the first election featured only a few grand coalitions. The United Iraqi Alliance (UIA) represented all major Shia groups and was endorsed by Grand Ayatollah Ali Sistani. The Kurdistan Alliance united the dominant Kurdish parties, and Tawafuq represented the few Sunni Arabs who did not boycott the vote. There was also the Iraq list, a secular coalition led by Ayad Allawi.
Today, those once-unified blocs have fractured into a constellation of competing electoral lists. The 2025 elections feature 31 alliances, 38 political parties, and 75 independent candidates.
From the United Iraqi Alliance (UIA) now emerge a host of competing Shia factions. These include Prime Minister Sudani’s Reconstruction and Development Coalition, the State of Law, led by former prime minister Nouri al-Maliki, as well as Qais al-Khazali’s al-Sadiqoun, Hadi al-Ameri’s Badr, and Ammar al-Hakim’s National State Forces Alliance. To varying degrees, some of these groups have historical and political links with Iran.
These parties make up the ruling Shia Coordination Framework (SCF), an umbrella bloc of Shia parties that initially supported Sudani as prime minister. They are contesting the elections as separate electoral lists but are expected to unite again after the election in a bid to form the largest bloc in parliament. The SCF is opposed by the influential Shia cleric Muqtada Sadr, whose movement is boycotting these elections.
The Kurds, once united under the Kurdistan Alliance, now contest elections through separate banners: the Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP), the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK), and a range of smaller Kurdish movements.
Tawafuq and the Iraq List, too, have fractured, giving rise to a variety of Sunni-led parties, including Mohammed al-Halbousi’s Taqaddum, Khamis al-Khanjar’s al-Siyada, and Muthanna al-Samarrai’s Azm Alliance.
How votes are won in Iraq: mobilizing the few
Although Iraqis are theoretically free to vote for who they want, in practice, many of those who still vote do so based on patronage networks, financial or material incentives, and dependence. Elections are therefore seen by many Iraqis as an exercise in clientelism and corruption.
Historically, Iraqi politicians evoked identity politics and ethno-sectarian loyalties to rally their bases, persuading voters that only one of their own can safeguard their interests or defend them against external threats. More recently, Iraq’s protest movements — which called for an end to the ethno-sectarian system — have given rise to mobilization that uses the language of civic reform.
However, in 2025, amid declining turnout, the defining feature of this election will be politicians using their positions and finances to gain votes. Those who do turn out at the polls are less likely to be ordinary citizens casting a free ballot, but rather those who are bound to the system in one way or another.
Politicians are spending vast amounts this time around in what an expert at a Chatham House roundtable dubbed “the billionaires’ election”. Elections have become high-stakes investments for the elite: Strong results translate into greater leverage during post-election bargaining, where influence and access to state resources are negotiated. Recent US-imposed restrictions on Iraq’s banking sector mean many rich Iraqis are directing their capital into domestic ventures, including politics. This election has therefore become another lucrative investment opportunity.
To secure votes, the incumbent prime minister often wields his executive authority and the power to dispense public sector employment. During Sudani’s three years in office, the government’s payroll has swollen dramatically, with around one million new job positions announced. Ahead of the election, Sudani issued nearly 9,000 “thank-you” letters that can aid in future promotions to state employees. The timing, however, drew sharp criticism. President Abdul Latif Rashid warned that the move breached the government’s recent pledge to safeguard electoral transparency.
Then, there are the men and women in uniform — employees of the Ministry of Defense, the Ministry of Interior, and the various groups that make up the Popular Mobilisation Forces (PMF) and the Peshmerga. They cast their ballots early, on special voting days arranged just for them. Their turnout is tightly managed. Commanders keep watch. Their votes are more easily channeled toward the political parties that have given them their position and that command them.
Beyond the military barracks lies another circle of voters: the clients woven into Iraq’s vast party networks. Families have learned to navigate the political seasons, understanding when loyalty is expected and when rewards are due.
Parties also deploy service delivery as an electoral tool in areas where they hope to gain support. For example, Taqaddum candidate Raad al-Dulaimi launched a campaign to extend drinking water networks to underserved and Sunni communities north of Baghdad. Such initiatives, while addressing genuine infrastructure gaps, underscore how political actors increasingly take on the role of the state, delivering services to secure loyalty at the ballot box.
There are also more overtly transactional ways that votes are purchased. Iraq’s thriving trade in votes has evolved for the 2025 election. A black market for biometric voter cards has emerged, with investigations revealing that cards are being bought and sold for around $100 each. Voters typically receive half the payment upfront and the remainder on election day, in exchange for either casting a prearranged vote or abstaining altogether.
Iraq’s political class is also turning to social media. Candidates and parties are said to pay influencers to post favourably about them, promote campaign narratives, or discredit rivals. Influencers told us that the going rates in this election are significantly higher than in previous years; A single post from a widely followed account can now fetch several thousand US dollars.
Why turnout in Iraq is low
Since the high turnout of almost 80 per cent in December 2005, turnout has steadily fallen in Iraq. This reflects widespread scepticism that voting can change who governs or how they govern.
Official turnout figures in Iraq often overstate the level of public engagement. This is because the percentage is calculated based on the number of voters relative to registered voters, or those who have updated their electoral registration, and not the entire voting-age population, many of whom choose not to register. In 2025, out of roughly 30 million eligible voters, only about 21 million registered, meaning that official turnout rates exclude a third of the electorate from the calculation. For the many Iraqis who stand outside the networks of power described above, the political system feels neither representative nor responsive. After two decades of elections and promises of reform, daily life for most Iraqis remains defined by hardship and neglect. On the most basic measures of governance, the state consistently falls short. Iraq, despite its vast oil wealth, continues to rank among the poorest performers in service delivery.
Sadr’s boycott campaign will also contribute to low turnout. His movement won the largest number of seats — 73 out of 329 — in the 2021 election, only to withdraw dramatically from parliament after failing to form a “majority government” in August 2022.
Sadr has warned his followers against running on other lists and even dismissed 31 members of his organization for supporting other candidates. His position has frustrated many of his closest advisors, who argue that his organization remains one of the few with a powerful and disciplined electoral machine capable of mobilizing large numbers of voters. But Sadr is seeking to publicly position himself outside of the political order, allowing him to claim moral distance from an election in which so few Iraqis are expected to take part.
How Iraq’s gov’t formation works
On paper, Iraq’s constitution outlines a clear timetable for forming a government after the election. In practice, each step becomes an opportunity for political blocs to extract concessions, exchange offices, and reinforce the elite pact that underpins the system itself.
Since 2005, the period from voting to the formation of a government has averaged around 224 days. Cabinet posts and senior positions are allocated according to an informal “points system,” calibrated to the number of seats each party secures. The negotiations begin almost immediately after the Federal Supreme Court (FSC) ratifies the election results, following the resolution of polling disputes. Within 15 days of ratification, the caretaker president must call the newly elected parliament to convene.
The first parliamentary session, chaired by the oldest member, is meant to elect a speaker and two deputies by an absolute majority. However, in practice, this moment often becomes the first arena of political negotiation. Parties delay the vote and keep the session “open” for months, as happened in 2022, while they negotiate over positions and alliances.
Once a speaker is finally chosen, attention shifts to the presidency, which requires a two-thirds parliamentary vote. Here, too, political manoeuvring is intense. Since 2022, a two-thirds quorum is required for the presidential vote, effectively forcing consensus and enabling a one-third minority to block progress.
When the president is eventually elected, he has 15 days to nominate a prime minister from the “largest bloc”. This itself is a source of contention. In a landmark 2010 ruling, the FSC interpreted “largest bloc” to mean one formed after elections rather than the list that won the most seats. This allowed Nouri al-Maliki’s coalition to outmanoeuvre Ayad Allawi’s winning alliance. That precedent, reaffirmed in 2019, institutionalized post-election bargaining as a defining feature of government formation.
Once nominated, the prime minister-designate has 30 days to present a cabinet and government programme to parliament for a vote of confidence. This stage is also dominated by negotiation. Prospective ministries are divided among the main factions, each claiming key portfolios in proportion to their parliamentary weight.
At every stage, these negotiations are not done in the parliament, but in the backrooms of power. The real decision-makers, the heads of the ruling blocs, treat electoral results as bargaining chips in negotiations over ministerial positions and almost 1,000 other senior government posts, known as “special grades”. These positions offer access to vast state resources, patronage networks, and the machinery of influence.
Yet, seats are only one bargaining chip in Iraq’s post-election contest for power. Elites have also mobilized supporters in the streets and even used targeted violence to preserve their influence. For example, PMF followers occupied Baghdad’s Green Zone after their affiliated parties performed poorly in the 2021 elections. Less than a year later, in August 2022, the Sadrists mounted their own incursion into the Green Zone amid their failure to form a government, leaving some 30 people dead. During that government formation process, the homes of politicians, including Halbousi and then-prime minister Mustafa Kadhimi, were attacked. Tit-for-tat assassinations, common during election season, remain a standard feature of how the system operates.
The fragmentation in Iraq’s elections is therefore less about ideological division than strategy. Each faction competes separately, seeking to measure its electoral weight and amass bargaining chips for the post-election negotiations.
Once the seats have been traded for positions, these groups inevitably reconverge within their traditional ruling blocs, reassembling the same order of power in a slightly altered form. And so, the cycle endures: the same elite, reshuffled and rebranded, returns to power under the familiar guise of democratic renewal.
Encouraging participation, accountability
Iraq’s post-2003 electoral system was designed to prevent the return of dictatorship. Elections were meant to serve as a periodic rebalancing mechanism, a way to recalibrate political representation every four years and to allow rival parties to contest power peacefully within an agreed constitutional framework. Competition was meant to produce pluralism, while inclusion across ethno-sectarian lines was intended to sustain stability. The promise to the public was that, through elections, Iraqis could hold leaders to account and preserve the hard-won gains of democracy.
Yet, two decades on, that system has hardened into something different. Rather than preventing authoritarianism, it is consolidating a competitive political order in which elections persist, but democracy and accountability are being eroded. The very institutions designed to uphold democratic checks, transparency, and the rule of law have been captured or politicized by the same elite. Other ways of holding the elite accountable, such as protests, have been systematically weakened through co-optation, intimidation, and violence.
In the near term, no overhaul of Iraq’s self-sustaining political system is likely. The SCF is expected to continue steering government formation, maintaining its central role in determining the prime minister and executive portfolios. The Sadrist movement will likely keep “one foot in and one foot out” of the system, influential enough to shape outcomes but distant enough to claim opposition. Meanwhile, the major Kurdish and Sunni parties will seek to regain ground lost during the last government formation process and secure a larger share of power.
Rebuilding trust, therefore, requires addressing Iraq’s democratic deficit at its core and then restoring the connection between elections and accountability. Beyond this, Iraq needs electoral rules that make votes truly count: clearer seat allocation mechanisms, transparent candidate vetting, enforcement of rules around campaign finance and political parties, and an electoral commission insulated from political capture. Equally important is strengthening parliament’s oversight capacity, enabling committees to genuinely scrutinize budgets, monitor ministries, and question senior officials without partisan obstruction.
Such steps require political will from the elite that has so far been absent. Cultivating the political will necessary for change will require a networked approach that connects civil society with reform-minded actors inside the system to generate meaningful pressure.
Without structural reform, Iraq’s elections will remain arenas of elite competition rather than vehicles for citizen accountability. They will continue to offer the appearance of democratic choice without its substance. Only through genuine reform can Iraq’s democracy begin to deliver what it once promised: not just the reshuffling of power, but the restoration of trust.
The full article first appeared on Chatham House.