Fallujah 101

GrGr

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Sep 25, 2003
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Fallujah 101
A history lesson about the town we are currently destroying.
By Rashid Khalidi
In these times

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?The people of England have been led in Mesopotamia into a trap from which it will be hard to escape with dignity and honor. They have been tricked into it by a steady withholding of information. The Baghdad communiqués are belated, insincere, incomplete. Things have been far worse than we have been told, our administration more bloody and inefficient than the public knows. It is a disgrace to our imperial record and may soon be too inflamed for any ordinary cure. We are today not far from a disaster. Our unfortunate troops, Indian and British, under hard conditions of climate and supply are policing an immense area, paying dearly every day in lives for the willfully wrong policy of the civil administration in Baghdad but the responsibility, in this case, is not on the army which has acted only upon the request of the civil authorities.?
T.E. Lawrence, The Sunday Times, August 1920

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There is a small City on one of the bends of the Euphrates that sticks out into the great Syrian Desert. It?s on an ancient trade route linking the oasis towns of the Nejd province of what is today Saudi Arabia with the great cities of Aleppo and Mosul to the north. It also is on the desert highway between Baghdad and Amman. This city is a crossroads.

For millennia people have been going up and down that north-south desert highway. The city is like a seaport on that great desert, a place that binds together people in what are today Saudi Arabia, Syria, Iraq and Jordan. People in the city are linked by tribe, family or marriage to people in all these places.

The ideas that came out of the eastern part of Saudi Arabia in the late 18th Century, which today we call Wahhabi ideas?those of a man named Muhammad Ibn ?Abd al-Wahhab?took root in this city more than 200 years ago. In other words, it is a place where what we would call fundamentalist salafi, or Wahhabi ideas, have been well implanted for 10 generations.

This town also is the place where in the spring of 1920, before T. E. Lawrence wrote the above passage, the British discerned civil unrest.

The British sent a renowned explorer and a senior colonial officer who had quelled unrest in the corners of their empire, Lt. Col. Gerald Leachman, to master this unruly corner of Iraq. Leachman was killed in an altercation with a local leader named Shaykh Dhari. His death sparked a war that ended up costing the lives of 10,000 Iraqis and more than 1,000 British and Indian troops. To restore Iraq to their control, the British used massive air power, bombing indiscriminately. That city is now called Fallujah.

Shaykh Dhari?s grandson, today a prominent Iraqi cleric, helped to broker the end of the U.S. Marine siege of Fallujah in April of this year. Fallujah thus embodies the interrelated tribal, religious and national aspects of Iraq?s history.

The Bush administration is not creating the world anew in the Middle East. It is waging a war in a place where history really matters.

A change for the worse

The United States has been a major Middle Eastern power since 1933, when a group of U.S. oil companies signed an exploration deal with Saudi Arabia. The United States has been dominant in the Middle East since 1942, when American troops first landed in North Africa and Iran. American troops have not left the region since. In other words, they have been in different parts of the Middle East for 62 years.

The United States was once celebrated as a non-colonial, sometimes anti-colonial, power in the Middle East, renowned for more than a century for its educational, medical and charity efforts. Since the Cold War, however, the United States has intervened increasingly in the region?s internal affairs and conflicts. Things have changed fundamentally for the worse with the invasion and occupation of Iraq, particularly with the revelation that the core pretexts offered by the administration for the invasion were false. And particularly with growing Iraqi dissatisfaction with the occupation and with the images of the hellish chaos broadcast regularly everywhere in the world except in the United States?thanks to the excellent job done by the media in keeping the real human costs of Iraq off our television screens.

The United States is perceived as stepping into the boots of Western colonial occupiers, still bitterly remembered from Morocco to Iran. The Bush administration marched into Iraq proclaiming the very best of intentions while stubbornly refusing to understand that in the eyes of most Iraqis and most others in the Middle East it is actions, not proclaimed intentions, that count. It does not matter what you say you are doing in Fallujah, where U.S. troops just launched an attack after weeks of bombing. What matters is what you are doing in Fallujah?and what people see that you are doing.

Fact-free and faith-based

Most Middle East experts in the United States, both inside and outside the government, have drawn on their knowledge of the cultures, languages, history, politics of the Middle East?and on their experience?to conclude that most Bush administration Middle East policies, whether in Iraq or Palestine, are harmful to the interests of the United States and the peoples of this region. A few of these experts have had the temerity to say so, to the outrage of the Bush administration and its supporters, who are committed to what I would call a fact-free, faith-based approach to Middle East policymaking.

These experts predicted that it would be difficult to occupy a vast, complex country like Iraq, that serious resistance from a major part of the population was likely, and that the invasion and occupation would complicate U.S. relations with other countries in the region. It is clear today that all of these fears were well founded.

After 20 months of occupation, the United States continues to make the important decisions in Iraq. Instead of control being exercised through the Coalition Provisional Authority, it takes place through the largest U.S. embassy in the world and its staff of more than 3,000. You can be sure that should the Iraqis try to end the basing of U.S. troops, or try to tear up the contracts with Halliburton and other U.S. companies, or take any other steps that displease the Bush administration, they would be brought up short by the U.S. viceroy, a.k.a. Ambassador John Negroponte.

We, and even more so the Iraqi government and its people, are trapped in a nightmare with no apparent end, in part because those experts who challenged neoconservative fantasies about U.S. troops being received with rice and flowers simply were not heeded. They warned that it is impossible to impose democracy through force in Iraq. Mao Tse Tung said that political power grows out of the barrel of a gun; he did not say democracy does. And it doesn?t.

The stench of hypocrisy rises when the United States, a nation supposedly com-mit-ted to democratization and reform, does not hesitate to embrace dictatorial, autocratic and undemocratic regimes like those of Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Tunisia and now even Libya, simply because they act in line with U.S. security concerns or give lucrative contracts to U.S. businesses. The United States claims to be acting in favor of democracy, yet embraces Qaddhafi! People in the Middle East notice this gap between word and deed?even if Americans don?t notice the things being done in our name.

The United States, in fact, has a far from sterling record in promoting democracy in the Middle East. Initially it started off on a better footing. It opposed colonial rule and -promoted self-determination, as in President Wilson?s Fourteen Points after World War I. But when the United States returned to the Middle East after World War II, it soon supported anti-democratic regimes simply because they provided access to oil and military bases.

If you look carefully, what the Bush administration seems to mean by democracy in the Middle East is governments that do what the United States wants.

Conquer and plunder

Middle Eastern economics is another area about which we hear very little in our media. Americans may not be aware of it, but the wholesale theft of the property of the Iraqi people through privatization was prominently reported all over the Middle East. A recent case involved the handover of Iraqi Airways to an investor group headed by a family with close ties to the Saddam Hussein regime. The airline is worth $3 billion, because in addition to valuable landing slots all over Europe and a few tattered airplanes, Iraqi Airways owns the land on which most of the airports are built.

Such cases, and there are many, cause deep anger against the United States, and evoke bitter resistance to pressures for economic liberalization that people in the region interpret as the looting of their country?s assets.

These privatization measures arouse deep suspicion in the Middle East, because of fears that the region?s primary asset, oil, may be next.

Here, too, history is all-important. Since commercial quantities of oil were discovered in the Middle East at the turn of the 20th century, decisions over pricing, control and ownership of these valuable resources were largely in the hands of giant Western oil companies. They decided prices. They decided how much in taxes they would pay. They decided who controlled the local governments. They decided how much oil would be produced. And they decided everything else about oil, including conditions of exploration, production and labor.

In those seven decades the people of the countries where this wealth was located obtained few benefits from it. Only with the rise of OPEC and the nationalization of the Middle East oil industries and the oil price rises in the ?70s did the situation change. Sadly, it was the oligarchs, the kleptocrats and Western companies that benefited most from the increased prices.

Fears that they will lose their resources shape much of the nationalism of the peoples of the Middle East. And events in Iraq only enhance these fears.

By invading, occupying and imposing a new regime on Iraq, the United States may be following, intentionally or not, in the footsteps of the old Western colonial powers?and doing so in a region that within living memory ended a lengthy struggle to expel colonial occupations. They fought from 1830 to 1962 to kick out the French from Algeria. From 1882 to 1956 they fought to get the British out of Egypt. That?s within the lifetime of every person over 45 in the Middle East. Foreign troops on their soil against their will is deeply familiar.
 

ReiAyanami

Diamond Member
Sep 24, 2002
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well T.E. Lawrence is obviously unpatriotic and anti-american :roll:

plus we know historians are slanted against bush
 

BBond

Diamond Member
Oct 3, 2004
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From T.E. Lawrence in the OP:

"Things have been far worse than we have been told, our administration more bloody and inefficient than the public knows."

History doesn't repeat itself, but it rhymes.

 

BBond

Diamond Member
Oct 3, 2004
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"Things have been far worse than we have been told, our administration more bloody and inefficient than the public knows."

In the rubble of Falluja

Nermeen Al-Mufti accompanies a relief convoy into the city of untold stories and unbearable pain

News from Falluja has been scarce and one-sided. Even the photos are censored. The access road to the city is still closed. The only people allowed in are those working with the Iraqi Red Crescent (RC).

I am at the RC information office in Baghdad, waiting to travel to Falluja with an RC convoy. An old man walks in and takes a picture of a young man from his pocket. It is his son, Raad Maoloud. The father thinks he has been killed in Falluja, and he wants to know if the Red Crescent has come across his body or buried it. Another man walks in with photos of a son and two brothers, asking similar questions.

I remember Umm Omar, my neighbour, who still carries the picture of Omar, her son, who went missing in 1983, during the war with Iran. My reverie is interrupted by the voice of Haytham Said, a volunteer, announcing that RC teams have evacuated 275 bodies which are now preserved in refrigerators. The photos will be of little help. Most of the bodies are decomposed and the families have to try and remember the clothes their relatives were wearing.

According to well-informed sources, 600 bodies or so are still lying under the rubble in Falluja. Others have been dismembered by dogs, thrown in the river, or completely decomposed. Most buildings and markets have been destroyed. The city has no electricity, drinking water, telephone service, or sewage network.

Our trip begins at 9am. The man leading the mission, RC chief Dr Said Hiqqi, tells me that the RC is trying to supply the people with the basic necessities. They have set up Crescent House as a hostel for the displaced and the homeless, and they are evacuating women, children, and old people who wish to leave the city, and moving patients to hospitals. The RC entered Falluja only a few days ago. Since then, it has evacuated 17 women and children, and more are to follow.

Within less than half an hour, our convoy arrives at a US checkpoint near the Abu Ghraib prison, now infamous as a US base and detention facility. Dozens of floodlights are still on, even though it's broad daylight. And this, at a time when Baghdad is under electricity rationing (two hours on, six hours off). Our convoy consists of 33 employees and volunteers, six ambulances, and a relief truck, the latter carrying supplies and drinking water. The vehicles are clearly marked with the RC flag.

I don't expect the convoy to be stopped, as it bears the flag of a neutral international organisation. But instead we do stop, for a long time. Permits have to be obtained. The convoy vehicles and passengers are searched. Then we wait some more. A truck arrives carrying bedding, food, and a sign reading "Relief to Falluja the steadfast". The truck is turned back.

Two hours into the waiting, three mortar shells, perhaps meant for the prison, land near us in the dust. Another hour passes, then finally permission is given and the convoy begins to move. In the past, the journey from Baghdad to Falluja used to take 45 minutes. We have an escort of Marine military vehicles. They keep their distance from the convoy in order to reduce the likelihood of our cars being attacked.

Arriving at the outskirts of Falluja, we are greeted by columns of smoke and a checkpoint manned jointly by the Iraqi National Guard and the Marines. A National Guard soldier tells us that Falluja is calm and that the smoke and the explosions we can hear are due to the detonation of the immense quantities of ammunition seized in the city. In the background, I can make out light arms fire. No one comments on it.

On our right is the Askari district with its fancy villas now in ruins. A nearby mosque has lost one of its minarets, and another is peppered with shellfire. On our left is the industrial area, its workshops all burnt out or demolished.

We are waiting again. It is time for prayers, but I hear no call to prayer. Normal life has come to a standstill. Only 10,000 people remain in Falluja out of a total of 650,000 inhabitants. Two hours later, we move on, past the empty shells of houses in the districts of Al-Dubbat Al-Oula, Al-Dubbat Al-Thaniya, and Al-Shurta. The doors all stand open, on orders from the Marines. Children's toys and bicycles litter the empty parks, where the unused swings sway in the wind.

We pass the Al-Hadra Al- Mohamadiya Mosque, which is now a US detention facility. More ruined mosques. In the deserted streets, abandoned passenger cars are redeployed as roadblocks.

Finally, we arrive at Crescent House, a magnificent structure that was originally the home of Khalaf Shadid, a local merchant who has fled the city with his family. Shadid's son, an RC volunteer, stayed behind and turned the home into a refugee safe house after the shelling had stopped.

There, I meet Haj Fouad Al-Kebeisi, 54. He now works as a volunteer with the RC, burying the dead. Al-Kebeisi tells me how Haj Radif Abdel-Wahed, 90, the oldest merchant in Falluja, died. Abdel-Wahed was in the yard doing his ablutions before prayers when a sniper bullet hit him. His children buried him in the garden.

I run into Haj Mahmoud, accompanied by his wife and six surviving children. Mahmoud's 13-year- old son, Mostafa, was killed by shrapnel. The family's house was burned down. Having lost all their possessions -- cars, jewellery, money, furniture -- they took refuge in the one remaining room of their otherwise destroyed home. The mother says that during Ramadan she would soak rice in a little water and the family would eat it for iftar. The day their house was hit, they ate nothing for 24 hours.

Haj Mahmoud says that they did not leave the city because they thought that the fighting would be confined to the outskirts, as it was last April. They did not expect the whole city to be shelled and destroyed. The Americans, he assures me, want to punish the city for not welcoming them. Zarqawi was only a pretext, Mahmoud says.

Mahmoud's daughter Fatema, 16, a student at the Teachers Institute, says that she used to have big dreams. Now all she wants is to be a normal person once again, to live without fear. The family's youngest son Abdel-Gabbar, aged three, has been traumatised by the shelling, and still runs to his mother's arms whenever he hears a loud noise, even if it is just a door slamming. Aisha, 14, misses her younger brother and says she cannot forget the sight of him lying dead in front of the house.

The whole city is calm. So calm, it is disturbing. Falluja today is a city of untold stories and unspeakable pain. The only electricity in the whole town is that produced by the generator at Crescent House.