Autumn in Iraq, When Death Grows on Trees
Are the insurgents winning the battle? Stephen Farrell reports from Baghdad on the chaos that threatens to engulf the nation
IN these weeks of early autumn, the corpse trees of Iraq have been covered in glistening red fruit.
Look upwards into the branches of the eucalyptus or date palms above any of Iraq's all-too-frequent suicide bombs and gobbets of flesh or intestines hang from branches.
On Tuesday, it was 73 people killed in a Baghdad car bombing and in an ambush on police in Baquba. The day before it was 16 Iraqis killed in a US warplane attack that was either a successful strike on a terrorist hideout or an attack on an ambulance, depending on which side you believe.
More than two months after Washington returned sovereignty to Iraq, the summer honeymoon of interim Prime Minister Iyad Allawi has already flashed past, and a much harsher climate prevails.
Insurgents fight running battles with Iraqi and US forces in the heart of Baghdad. Whole cities or parts of cities have become no-go zones for US troops. Many highways are now too dangerous to use.
In the first two weeks of September alone, 291 Iraqi civilians have been killed. The number of foreigners taken hostage last month soared to 31. The average number of attacks on US soldiers reached 87 a day.
In Baghdad last week, two Italian aid workers were kidnapped in broad daylight by a gang so professional it snatched its targets within five minutes without firing a shot.
In so doing it shattered two shibboleths -- that central Baghdad was more or less under the control of Iraq's newly formed police force and that women were all but immune from hostage-taking.
A third myth, that only Westerners from countries supporting the US-led invasion were at risk, was demolished by the seizure and continued disappearance of two French journalists a fortnight earlier.
Against this sound and fury, pro-war critics complain that good news is being ignored, and they are right. So, too, is a lot of bad news. Kidnapping, looting, criminal opportunism and xenophobia make it simply too dangerous for Western journalists to visit many areas.
As recently as last (northern) spring we could travel relatively freely throughout Iraq, even to hotbeds of Sunni resistance such as Fallujah or Ramadi.
We could eat in Baghdad's restaurants and shop in its markets. We lived in a suburban house until the day we received death threats.
Today, we live in fortified hotels and move around the capital with extreme caution.
A year ago every fatal attack on coalition forces, or suicide bomb, made news. Today they are so common we report only the really big ones.
The deadly chaos also confronts foreign aid workers, who now run their operations from neighbouring Jordan, and rich Iraqis -- the lawyers, doctors and wealthy merchants who, daily, fear the kidnap of loved ones for ransom. "Maku Karaba, Maku Amin" -- no electricity, no security -- is still the cry of Iraqis on the street.
In a tea shop in Kadhimiya last week, irritated Iraqis brushed away talk of Fallujah and Najaf, regarding such trouble spots as distant from Baghdad's concerns as they are from London's.
"It's all meaningless. What are you talking about? Impose a siege, end a siege. Fight or retreat. This is not what we should be talking about," shop-owner Abu Ali said.
"Let's talk about sewage, water, utilities, security and the basic needs of life. We were optimistic because we thought that Iyad Allawi would do something, but he has done nothing."
Shaking his head, Ahmed al-Khuzai, a former security guard, said: "It's not really Allawi or his Government that are the problem. He's experienced. He's a strong person. We trust his skills. He's the one to run this chaos.
"The problem is the American policy and strategy in this country. They created a gap of a year in which there was absence of security."
Diplomats and officials remain as upbeat as they can. One thing on which everyone agrees is that, in the skeleton that holds Iraq together, the security bone is connected to the election bone, the election bone is connected to the legitimacy bone and the legitimacy bone connects right back to the security bone.
"This Government is strong and it is determined to win against terrorism and that peace will prevail in Iraq and that democracy will be practised here," Allawi said in an interview this week.
Perhaps. But this week Iraqis sat down to watch a wicked television satire updating the legend of the genie and the lamp. Summoned to a darkened flat to grant his customary wishes, the hapless blue-bearded genie is asked to repair the electricity supply, but can only attach the wires to the neighbours' generator, which promptly breaks down.
Beseeched to improve the nation's security, he disappears only to reappear bruised and battered, having been run over by US tanks. The message is clear. In the land of the Arabian Nights, even the genie can't fix Iraq.
September 16, 2004
The Times
IN these weeks of early autumn, the corpse trees of Iraq have been covered in glistening red fruit.
Look upwards into the branches of the eucalyptus or date palms above any of Iraq's all-too-frequent suicide bombs and gobbets of flesh or intestines hang from branches.
On Tuesday, it was 73 people killed in a Baghdad car bombing and in an ambush on police in Baquba. The day before it was 16 Iraqis killed in a US warplane attack that was either a successful strike on a terrorist hideout or an attack on an ambulance, depending on which side you believe.
More than two months after Washington returned sovereignty to Iraq, the summer honeymoon of interim Prime Minister Iyad Allawi has already flashed past, and a much harsher climate prevails.
Insurgents fight running battles with Iraqi and US forces in the heart of Baghdad. Whole cities or parts of cities have become no-go zones for US troops. Many highways are now too dangerous to use.
In the first two weeks of September alone, 291 Iraqi civilians have been killed. The number of foreigners taken hostage last month soared to 31. The average number of attacks on US soldiers reached 87 a day.
In Baghdad last week, two Italian aid workers were kidnapped in broad daylight by a gang so professional it snatched its targets within five minutes without firing a shot.
In so doing it shattered two shibboleths -- that central Baghdad was more or less under the control of Iraq's newly formed police force and that women were all but immune from hostage-taking.
A third myth, that only Westerners from countries supporting the US-led invasion were at risk, was demolished by the seizure and continued disappearance of two French journalists a fortnight earlier.
Against this sound and fury, pro-war critics complain that good news is being ignored, and they are right. So, too, is a lot of bad news. Kidnapping, looting, criminal opportunism and xenophobia make it simply too dangerous for Western journalists to visit many areas.
As recently as last (northern) spring we could travel relatively freely throughout Iraq, even to hotbeds of Sunni resistance such as Fallujah or Ramadi.
We could eat in Baghdad's restaurants and shop in its markets. We lived in a suburban house until the day we received death threats.
Today, we live in fortified hotels and move around the capital with extreme caution.
A year ago every fatal attack on coalition forces, or suicide bomb, made news. Today they are so common we report only the really big ones.
The deadly chaos also confronts foreign aid workers, who now run their operations from neighbouring Jordan, and rich Iraqis -- the lawyers, doctors and wealthy merchants who, daily, fear the kidnap of loved ones for ransom. "Maku Karaba, Maku Amin" -- no electricity, no security -- is still the cry of Iraqis on the street.
In a tea shop in Kadhimiya last week, irritated Iraqis brushed away talk of Fallujah and Najaf, regarding such trouble spots as distant from Baghdad's concerns as they are from London's.
"It's all meaningless. What are you talking about? Impose a siege, end a siege. Fight or retreat. This is not what we should be talking about," shop-owner Abu Ali said.
"Let's talk about sewage, water, utilities, security and the basic needs of life. We were optimistic because we thought that Iyad Allawi would do something, but he has done nothing."
Shaking his head, Ahmed al-Khuzai, a former security guard, said: "It's not really Allawi or his Government that are the problem. He's experienced. He's a strong person. We trust his skills. He's the one to run this chaos.
"The problem is the American policy and strategy in this country. They created a gap of a year in which there was absence of security."
Diplomats and officials remain as upbeat as they can. One thing on which everyone agrees is that, in the skeleton that holds Iraq together, the security bone is connected to the election bone, the election bone is connected to the legitimacy bone and the legitimacy bone connects right back to the security bone.
"This Government is strong and it is determined to win against terrorism and that peace will prevail in Iraq and that democracy will be practised here," Allawi said in an interview this week.
Perhaps. But this week Iraqis sat down to watch a wicked television satire updating the legend of the genie and the lamp. Summoned to a darkened flat to grant his customary wishes, the hapless blue-bearded genie is asked to repair the electricity supply, but can only attach the wires to the neighbours' generator, which promptly breaks down.
Beseeched to improve the nation's security, he disappears only to reappear bruised and battered, having been run over by US tanks. The message is clear. In the land of the Arabian Nights, even the genie can't fix Iraq.
September 16, 2004
The Times
posted by R7 | 9/15/2004 06:48:00 PM
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