IRAQ DISPATCH
Great Expectations
Iraqis embrace freedom--even though it starts off messy.
BAGHDAD--"This is my brother," cries a man. "This is not my husband," wails his sister-in-law. They are arguing over a bag of bones, and it is hard to tell whether he is over-eager for closure or she in denial. The man says he recognizes his brother's dishdasha, or robe, but admits that he could be more certain if there were a skull and dental work to look at. Hundreds of identical plastic bags, likewise filled with the remains of Shiites who rose up against Saddam in 1991, litter the ground nearby.
Among the thousands of friends and relatives who have come to this mass grave near Hilla to find their loved ones, there is surprisingly little bitterness against the U.S. for encouraging and then abandoning that rebellion. Some even express hope that Iraq could become an American state. "Saddam, Saddam," one man mutters in disbelief, staring at the bodies. "Television only show Iraq Ali Baba [Iraqis as thieves]," complains another of the foreign media's fixation with looting, "not show this."
Not surprisingly, none of these people thinks that finding weapons of mass destruction is critical to the case for war. The old regime did most of its dirty work the old-fashioned way, with a pistol to the head. Nor are they alarmed, like so many distant pundits, that Iraq has traded tyranny for anarchy. Even a messy freedom is something to savor.
Abbas is a bodyguard for Iraqi opposition leader Ahmed Chalabi. He was a refugee from Saddam Hussein's regime, living illegally in Iran and Turkey. He asks me why I would want to come to Baghdad. "America is my dream. I will shoot myself if I can't go there within five years." (He is holding a Kalashnikov.) Then Abbas asks if he can see my passport. He handles it as if it were a Koran. "I am 40 years old and I have never had one," he says.
Nearby is the spot where two U.S. warplanes dropped four bunker-buster bombs in the second of two attempts to "decapitate" Iraq's leadership. Fourteen-year-old Amar approaches. He asks me for money. I ask him if he's angry that America did this to his neighborhood. "Yes," he says. Four people and two cars are still buried beneath the rubble. Did he see Saddam that day? "Yes." Was he killed? "No, he was there," pointing to an undamaged building. I ask Amar what he thinks about Saddam. "Son of a bitch," he replies with a devilish smile, and obvious delight in his newfound freedom to say so.
I never do meet an Iraqi who believes Saddam Hussein is dead. Some still speak carefully for fear that he might yet return. A very few, like Amar, have understandable complaints about what the war brought to their families and neighbors. But no one expresses regret for the passing of Saddam's regime. And apart from the few gunmen--die-hard Baathists or foreign jihadis probably--still targeting coalition soldiers and robbing foreign journalists, people don't seem at all unhappy about the presence of American troops on their streets. If anything, the complaint is that there aren't enough. There is no doubt that Iraqis have, as Vice President Dick Cheney predicted, welcomed us "as liberators."
The drive from Amman does little to prepare the visitor for the spectacle that is Baghdad. Western Iraq is a near-Martian landscape from which a few shepherds improbably coax nourishment for their flocks. But at Ramadi the waters of the Euphrates bring forth an explosion of date palms and other greenery, and it suddenly becomes clear how the lush land between the rivers, "Mesopotamia," could have become the cradle of civilization. Modern Iraq, it is often noted, is the only Arab country with both water and oil.
This wealth of resources was something neither U.N. sanctions nor Saddamite war-socialism could entirely erase. Baghdad has its slums. But it is also a city of wide boulevards, stately villas and well-tended gardens. Citizens spouting near-fluent English and holding degrees from European or American universities accost visitors with their hopes for the new Iraq. "Tell Mr. Bush . . ." they say. "I want to thank Mr. Bush and the Americans for helping liberate our country . . . and all countries that help the American people and stand with them for giving us the happiness . . . ."
One of the Baghdadis eager to tell his story is a former agent of Iraq's intelligence service, or Mukhabarat. He has effectively turned himself in to Mr. Chalabi's Iraqi National Congress. He says that Saddam used money from illegal oil sales to buy off a U.N. weapons inspector, and names a well-known figure. He also offers details of plans to bribe two U.S. congressmen, though he is not sure that the money ever changed hands. He has no documents to back up his allegations, but his identity checks out. He tells me he worked in Iraq's U.S. embassy prior to the first Gulf War, where he found "Islam without Muslims." "Americans don't lie, they smile honestly," he elaborates. "I wasn't brave enough to say this a couple of weeks ago. Sometimes I wish I hadn't seen the U.S. The uneducated are not depressed."
Another interesting character at the Chalabi compound is Col. Ted Seel, the Centcom liaison to the INC, who was assigned just as the war began. He had no prior acquaintance with Mr. Chalabi, but already he speaks like a convert. Although CIA reports kept insisting that the INC had no fighting force and no support in Iraq, "It was all total horseshit," says Col. Seel. He tells me how the INC's Free Iraqi Forces disarmed a town near Nassiriya during the war: "In one day they accomplished more than an American battalion could have in two weeks. Being able to communicate with the people is absolutely critical."
On the street, opinion of Iraq's would-be leaders is decidedly more skeptical--perhaps understandable in a country that has not learned to expect great things from politicians. "No to \[Shiite religious leader\] Hakim, no to Chalabi," is a common refrain. "I want America to stay here . . . kill Saddam and stay." Of all the preconceptions I had before my visit, the idea that Iraqis would demand a provisional government of their own at the earliest possible date was most wrong.
America has a surprising amount of trust among the Iraqi people to work with, but the coalition's Office of Reconstruction and Humanitarian Assistance does not inspire much confidence. It is, of course, far too early to declare reconstruction a failure, and the degree of disorder is grossly exaggerated in the press. But restoration of phones and electricity to the capital has been painfully slow, and misleading statements from coalition figures that things are nearly back to normal do not help their credibility. The most inexplicable oversight has been the coalition's failure to communicate with ordinary Iraqis--who remain confused about U.S. intentions--via radio or TV.
In other ways, the aftermath of the war may have been too well planned. ORHA has blocked attempts by entrepreneurs to provide Baghdad with things like air service and a cell-phone system, until various studies and contracts are completed. The reconstruction office is a bureaucratic beast, seemingly unable to respond to actual conditions on the ground. A decisive hand from new Iraq czar Paul Bremer, and a willingness to overrule subordinates when necessary, will be important. Everybody liked outgoing reconstruction chief Jay Garner, but agreed he was not a strong enough personality for a job that requires beating a coherent policy out of the Defense Department, the State Department and the British.
Before travelling to Baghdad, I had dinner with a Palestinian economist in Amman. I told him that conventional wisdom among antiwar Americans was that the U.S. had squandered a great reservoir of international sympathy by attacking Iraq. He laughed. What sympathy? Most of his acquaintances were happy about, or at best indifferent to, the blow America suffered on Sept. 11, 2001. Yet few of these people cried for Saddam either. Whatever their complaints about America, he said, they understand that Saddam was a monster.
The new conventional wisdom seems to be that Iraq itself is destined for chaos. This is equally off base. To visit Iraq is to see a land of opportunity, rich in resources and educated people who are, most importantly, well-disposed to our presence. But to take advantage of the opportunity to remake a country and perhaps a region, the U.S. will have to become at once a more dedicated and more nimble occupier. This could mean a competent American-led administration for the foreseeable future--most Iraqis certainly would not object. But if ORHA cannot rise to the occasion, Mr. Bremer could do a lot worse than speed moves toward a provisional government. Iraqis' distrust of local politicians will fade, and the veterans of the country's democratic opposition are ready and waiting.
Mr. Pollock is a senior editorial page writer at The Wall Street Journal.
