12/10/05 "Atlantic
Monthly" -- -- At some point—whether sooner or
later—U.S. troops will leave Iraq. I have spent much of the
occupation reporting from Baghdad, Kirkuk, Mosul, Fallujah,
and elsewhere in the country, and I can tell you that a
growing majority of Iraqis would like it to be sooner. As
the occupation wears on, more and more Iraqis chafe at its
failure to provide stability or even electricity, and they
have grown to hate the explosions, gunfire, and constant
war, and also the daily annoyances: having to wait hours in
traffic because the Americans have closed off half the city;
having to sit in that traffic behind a U.S. military vehicle
pointing its weapons at them; having to endure constant
searches and arrests. Before the January 30 elections this
year the Association of Muslim Scholars—Iraq's most
important Sunni Arab body, and one closely tied to the
indigenous majority of the insurgency—called for a
commitment to a timely U.S. withdrawal as a condition for
its participation in the vote. (In exchange the association
promised to rein in the resistance.) It's not just Sunnis
who have demanded a withdrawal: the Shiite cleric Muqtada
al-Sadr, who is immensely popular among the young and the
poor, has made a similar demand. So has the mainstream
leader of the Shiites' Supreme Council for the Islamic
Revolution in Iraq, Abdel Aziz al-Hakim, who made his first
call for U.S. withdrawal as early as April 23, 2003.
If the people the U.S. military is ostensibly protecting
want it to go, why do the soldiers stay? The most common
answer is that it would be irresponsible for the United
States to depart before some measure of peace has been
assured. The American presence, this argument goes, is the
only thing keeping Iraq from an all-out civil war that could
take millions of lives and would profoundly destabilize the
region. But is that really the case? Let's consider the key
questions surrounding the prospect of an imminent American
withdrawal.
Would the withdrawal of U.S. troops ignite a civil war
between Sunnis and Shiites?
No. That civil war is already under way—in large part
because of the American presence. The longer the United
States stays, the more it fuels Sunni hostility toward
Shiite "collaborators." Were America not in Iraq, Sunni
leaders could negotiate and participate without fear that
they themselves would be branded traitors and collaborators
by their constituents. Sunni leaders have said this in
official public statements; leaders of the resistance have
told me the same thing in private. The Iraqi government,
which is currently dominated by Shiites, would lose its
quisling stigma. Iraq's security forces, also primarily
Shiite, would no longer be working on behalf of foreign
infidels against fellow Iraqis, but would be able to
function independently and recruit Sunnis to a truly
national force. The mere announcement of an intended U.S.
withdrawal would allow Sunnis to come to the table and
participate in defining the new Iraq.
But if American troops aren't in Baghdad, what's to
stop the Sunnis from launching an assault and seizing
control of the city?
Sunni forces could not mount such an assault. The
preponderance of power now lies with the majority Shiites
and the Kurds, and the Sunnis know this. Sunni fighters
wield only small arms and explosives, not Saddam's tanks and
helicopters, and are very weak compared with the cohesive,
better armed, and numerically superior Shiite and Kurdish
militias. Most important, Iraqi nationalism—not intramural
rivalry—is the chief motivator for both Shiites and Sunnis.
Most insurgency groups view themselves as waging a
muqawama—a resistance—rather than a jihad. This
is evident in their names and in their propaganda. For
instance, the units commanded by the Association of Muslim
Scholars are named after the 1920 revolt against the
British. Others have names such as Iraqi Islamic Army and
Flame of Iraq. They display the Iraqi flag rather than a
flag of jihad. Insurgent attacks are meant primarily
to punish those who have collaborated with the Americans and
to deter future collaboration.
Wouldn't a U.S. withdrawal embolden the insurgency?
No. If the occupation were to end, so, too, would the
insurgency. After all, what the resistance movement has been
resisting is the occupation. Who would the insurgents fight
if the enemy left? When I asked Sunni Arab fighters and the
clerics who support them why they were fighting, they all
gave me the same one-word answer: intiqaam—revenge.
Revenge for the destruction of their homes, for the shame
they felt when Americans forced them to the ground and
stepped on them, for the killing of their friends and
relatives by U.S. soldiers either in combat or during raids.
But what about the foreign jihadi
element of the resistance? Wouldn't it be empowered by a
U.S. withdrawal?
The foreign jihadi element—commanded by the likes
of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi—is numerically insignificant; the
bulk of the resistance has no connection to al-Qaeda or its
offshoots. (Zarqawi and his followers have benefited greatly
from U.S. propaganda blaming him for all attacks in Iraq,
because he is now seen by Arabs around the world as more
powerful than he is; we have been his best recruiting tool.)
It is true that the Sunni resistance welcomed the foreign
fighters (and to some extent still do), because they were
far more willing to die than indigenous Iraqis were. But
what Zarqawi wants fundamentally conflicts with what Iraqi
Sunnis want: Zarqawi seeks re-establishment of the Muslim
caliphate and a Manichean confrontation with infidels around
the world, to last until Judgment Day; the mainstream Iraqi
resistance just wants the Americans out. If U.S. forces were
to leave, the foreigners in Zarqawi's movement would find
little support—and perhaps significant animosity—among Iraqi
Sunnis, who want wealth and power, not jihad until
death. They have already lost much of their support: many
Iraqis have begun turning on them. In the heavily Shia Sadr
City foreign jihadis had burning tires placed around
their necks. The foreigners have not managed to establish
themselves decisively in any large cities. Even at the
height of their power in Fallujah they could control only
one neighborhood, the Julan, and they were hated by the
city's resistance council. Today foreign fighters hide in
small villages and are used opportunistically by the
nationalist resistance.
When the Americans depart and Sunnis join the Iraqi
government, some of the foreign jihadis in Iraq may
try to continue the struggle—but they will have committed
enemies in both Baghdad and the Shiite south, and the entire
Sunni triangle will be against them. They will have nowhere
to hide. Nor can they merely take their battle to the West.
The jihadis need a failed state like Iraq in which to
operate. When they leave Iraq, they will be hounded by Arab
and Western security agencies.
What about the Kurds? Won't they secede if the United
States leaves?
Yes, but that's going to happen anyway. All Iraqi Kurds
want an independent Kurdistan. They do not feel Iraqi.
They've effectively had more than a decade of autonomy,
thanks to the UN-imposed no-fly zone; they want nothing to
do with the chaos that is Iraq. Kurdish independence is
inevitable—and positive. (Few peoples on earth deserve a
state more than the Kurds.) For the moment the Kurdish
government in the north is officially participating in the
federalist plan—but the Kurds are preparing for secession.
They have their own troops, the peshmerga, thought to
contain 50,000 to 100,000 fighters. They essentially control
the oil city of Kirkuk. They also happen to be the most
America-loving people I have ever met; their leaders openly
seek to become, like Israel, a proxy for American interests.
If what the United States wants is long-term bases in the
region, the Kurds are its partners.
Would Turkey invade in response to a Kurdish
secession?
For the moment Turkey is more concerned with EU
membership than with Iraq's Kurds—who in any event have
expressed no ambitions to expand into Turkey. Iraq's Kurds
speak a dialect different from Turkey's, and, in fact, have
a history of animosity toward Turkish Kurds. Besides,
Turkey, as a member of NATO, would be reluctant to attack in
defiance of the United States. Turkey would be satisfied
with guarantees that it would have continued access to
Kurdish oil and trade and that Iraqi Kurds would not incite
rebellion in Turkey.
Would Iran effectively take over Iraq?
No. Iraqis are fiercely nationalist—even the country's
Shiites resent Iranian meddling. (It is true that some Iraqi
Shiites view Iran as an ally, because many of their leaders
found safe haven there when exiled by Saddam—but thousands
of other Iraqi Shiites experienced years of misery as
prisoners of war in Iran.) Even in southeastern towns near
the border I encountered only hostility toward Iran.
What about the goal of creating a secular democracy in
Iraq that respects the rights of women and non-Muslims?
Give it up. It's not going to happen. Apart from the
Kurds, who revel in their secularism, Iraqis overwhelmingly
seek a Muslim state. Although Iraq may have been officially
secular during the 1970s and 1980s, Saddam encouraged
Islamism during the 1990s, and the difficulties of the past
decades have strengthened the resurgence of Islam. In the
absence of any other social institutions, the mosques and
the clergy assumed the dominant role in Iraq following the
invasion. Even Baathist resistance leaders told me they have
returned to Islam to atone for their sins under Saddam. Most
Shiites, too, follow one cleric or another. Ayatollah al-Sistani—supposedly
a moderate—wants Islam to be the source of law. The invasion
of Iraq has led to a theocracy, which can only grow more
hostile to America as long as U.S. soldiers are present.
Does Iraqi history offer any lessons?
The British occupation of Iraq, in the first half of the
twentieth century, may be instructive. The British faced
several uprisings and coups. The Iraqi government, then as
now, was unable to suppress the rebels on its own and relied
on the occupying military. In 1958, when the government the
British helped install finally fell, those who had
collaborated with them could find no popular support; some,
including the former prime minister Nuri Said, were murdered
and mutilated. Said had once been a respected figure, but he
became tainted by his collaboration with the British. That
year, when revolutionary officers overthrew the government,
Said disguised himself as a woman and tried to escape. He
was discovered, shot in the head, and buried. The next day a
mob dug up his corpse and dragged it through the street—an
act that would be repeated so often in Iraq that it earned
its own word: sahil. With the British-sponsored
government gone, both Sunni and Shiite Arabs embraced the
Iraqi identity. The Kurds still resent the British perfidy
that made them part of Iraq.
What can the United States do to repair Iraq?
There is no panacea. Iraq is a destroyed and fissiparous
country. Iranians and Saudis I've spoken to worry that it
might be impossible to keep Iraq from disintegrating. But
they agree that the best hope of avoiding this scenario is
if the United States leaves; perhaps then Iraqi nationalism
will keep at least the Arabs united. The sooner America
withdraws and allows Iraqis to assume control of their own
country, the better the chances that Prime Minister Ibrahim
Jaafari won't face sahil. It may be decades before
Iraq recovers from the current maelstrom. By then its
borders may be different, its vaunted secularism a distant
relic. But a continued U.S. occupation can only get in the
way.
Nir Rosen, a fellow at the New America Foundation, spent
sixteen months reporting from Iraq after the American
invasion. His book In the Belly of the Green Bird: The
Triumph of the Martyrs in Iraq will be published in
February.
Copyright © 2005 by The Atlantic Monthly Group