Professor’s Experience in Iraq

To the Editors:

Archaeology, history, and a sense of Arab pride brought me to Iraq for the first time in 1974 and lured me again in the ’80s and early ‘90s. Despite my best efforts to steer away from politics, Saddam’s increasingly repressive rule somehow managed to insinuate itself into my consciousness. The first instance took place in early 1974, when, quite abruptly, the Iraqi new media reversed their vitriolic abuse of Iran and began speaking about the “common ties of friendship” linking the two countries. Within a few days, dozens of armored vehicles could be seen headed north toward Kurdistan. Once the Kurdish insurrection had been quelled and the army units brought back to the Iranian front, the news media returned to their prescribed dose of anti-Iranian invective. None of my Iraqi friends uttered a word about this shameless reversal nor about the ongoing war against the Kurds. The second instance took place during the 1978 dig season in Tell al-Hiba, at the edge of the marshes of southern Iraq. I was having tea and cigarettes with the Iraqi workers, when one suited man appeared at our reed hut with written orders to enlist two young workers (they were about 16 and 18) for the Kurdish front. I vividly remember their ashen faces and shaky voices barely disguised behind a façade of patriotism. Once again, no one dared speak in opposition, although one older man muttered: “hukum qasi” “it’s a harsh rule.” In 1995 I returned for the last time to Iraq and paid a visit to the dig site, which, I’d been told, had been “improved” beyond recognition. The nearby marshes had been drained; the rich fauna and flora had practically vanished; and the local Shi‘ite population had been reduced to abject poverty. This was ecological warfare, totally unnoticed by the outside world.
I recall these particular anecdotes to remind myself of the reality of Iraq but also to highlight the world’s muted reaction to Saddam’s repressive policies, whose nature and intent were certainly clear by about 1985 and which have only increased in magnitude and virulence ever since. Just think of Saddam’s Stalinist purge of the Ba’ath Party in 1979, his war on Iran (1980-88), the Halabja massacre in 1988, and the invasion of Kuwait and burning of the oil fields in 1990. Why was nothing done to stop Saddam long before he had invaded Kuwait? Even more importantly, why have the U.S. and Europe been so reluctant to support incipient democratic movements in Iraq and the Arab world, as they had done, for example, in Eastern Europe?
Perhaps a partial answer, and one with implications for the future, is that Saddam rose to power at around the same time that the U.S. had shifted its Middle East policy from deep engagement to containment. The age of the Arabist had already passed, and there was no one on the ground to gauge or support progressive movements in Iraq and the Arab world. All forces of change and resistance were suspect: Arab nationalism for its alliance with the Soviet Bloc; Islamism for its links with Iran; democratic secularists because they lacked local support; while military dictatorships were allowed to advance their harsh rule on increasingly fearful and alienated populations.
The war on terror was lost a long time ago; perhaps in 1988 when the western world ignored the Halabja Kurdish massacre, or even in 1982 when Reagan looked the other way as Syrian military forces killed nearly 20,000 civilians in Hama. Isn’t that seven times the casualties of 9/11? The war against Saddam seems inevitable now, but I don’t see democracy on the horizon. Decades of local terror and world apathy have made sure of that.

–Yasser Tabbaa
Professor of Art