By Jamie Watt
Lights and Christmas trees pop up around buildings, lobbies, and cafes around Erbil each December. Bakeries start selling festive treats, Baba Noel gets sighted, and more holiday festivals bring families and friends together. What used to feel resigned to a minority now finds its life in the city’s public square.
For many families in Erbil, these December traditions are not called “Christmas” at all, but “New Year.” Trees, lights, music, and Baba Noel have been woven into a broader end-of-year celebration that is cultural rather than explicitly religious. This local naming matters, and it reflects how global traditions are often adapted and made one’s own rather than simply imported.
While a fair amount of Christmas culture and traditions have in fact been reconstituted as New Year’s celebrations in the Middle East, they share historical roots with Christmas celebrations elsewhere, even as they have taken on new meanings and expressions locally. Erbil is not a Christian city. It has many religions, a strong culture, and deep traditions. So why are these December traditions becoming so visible in Erbil’s public life?
One answer is practical (and economic). The December holidays bring more business during a usually slow time of year. Restaurants hold events, cafés stay busy late, musicians and decorators get work, and local shops see more customers. In larger economies, December holiday spending can account for 10 to 15 per cent of annual retail sales, with some industries seeing a 50% increase.
But the impact is more than just economic. These December celebrations give everyone a break in the year. In a place that has faced hard times, this pause is important. Lights, music, and public gatherings remind people that life is about more than just getting by. A sustained season of joy around the time of the winter solstice—the darkest and coldest time of the year—often carries psychological and social benefits. Studies in the United Kingdom show a 34 per cent rise in volunteering and a 33 per cent increase in food bank donations during the holidays. Even people who do not celebrate Christmas for religious reasons often enjoy the warmth of the season, recognizing how this shared cultural moment can spur gathering and social health while stimulating new festive initiatives.
I have seen friends from different backgrounds attend festivals together, children excited by the decorations, and cafés buzzing with conversations around a tree lit up with holiday lights and music playing in the background. Indeed, cities are made not just out of buildings and infrastructure but of shared experiences that remind people they are part of a diverse and thriving community.
The embrace of these December traditions also says something about Erbil itself. Cities that are confident in their own religious and cultural identity are not threatened by new or adapted traditions and can make room for difference without losing their own sense of self. This is profoundly important and separates Erbil from some Muslim-majority cities that fear holiday customs perceived as foreign or Western.
Because of this, these celebrations need not be seen only as religious events to belong here. For many in Erbil, they are already understood primarily as cultural rather than religious—and that may be exactly why they fit so naturally. Their core ideas—generosity, family, joy, hope, and care for the poor and forgotten—are values everyone can share. Even in their most secular forms (Baba Noel, reindeer, decorations), they encourage generosity, cheerfulness, and charity.
Of course, there are limits. These traditions lose their positive meaning if they feel forced, exclude people, or fail to fit local culture. Too much commercialism or cultural dominance can push people away rather than bring them together. If they respect local traditions, welcome everyone, and focus on helping others rather than simply making money, they can become a very positive part of the city’s social life.
Maybe the simplest question is this: Do these December celebrations help Erbil thrive during the dark days of winter? Do they foster goodwill, economic activity, and social togetherness? If they help local businesses, bring joy to children, build stronger relationships, and encourage generosity in the community, then they are doing something good for the city’s well-being, regardless of religious background.
Looking at the lights, the trees, and the growing number of people celebrating together each year, it is clear that this season has become part of Erbil’s public life and has no plans of leaving. The real question is how Erbil will continue to use this season to promote multifaith cooperation, economic vitality, the well-being of its residents, and social thriving.