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COMMENTARY Tentative peace embraces once-brutal town By Trudy Rubin |
MAHMOUDIYA, Iraq — The helicopter flies low over farmland dotted with palm trees, just south of Baghdad. This is an area that looks bucolic but used to be called the Triangle of Death.
Until recently this region was known for the most brutal al-Qaida atrocities, including the beheading of corpses in Shiite funeral convoys. Al-Qaida in Iraq controlled the rural, Sunni areas while Shiite extremists infiltrated the mostly Shiite town and drove out Sunni families.
I flew down here to look at a stunning transformation. Al-Qaida has been badly hit (but not finished); Sunni tribesmen now work with U.S. troops.
Shiite extremists are standing down, for now. Sunni and Shiite sheikhs are holding reconciliation meetings, some organized by the U.S. Institute of Peace, an American think tank. The Rasheed outdoor market in Mahmoudiya is busy selling piles of tomatoes, grapefruits, oranges, clothing, machine parts and sundries; not so long ago it was a burnt-out eyesore. An Iraqi army unit is working in strong partnership with U.S. forces.
These gains could be reversed, but this tortured town is enjoying a tentative peace. It provides a textbook case of the Army's new counterinsurgency doctrine, which emphasizes protecting civilians as much as fighting.
The best way I can give a sense of the situation is to provide some snapshots of some of the Americans and Iraqis involved in the transformation.
That means partnering closely with an Iraqi army unit and building relationships with Sunni sheikhs. It means helping the local mayor rebuild the town, with a team of U.S. civilian experts embedded in his unit.
"In September we were fighting, and less than 24 hours later we were doing a humanitarian mission, identifying needs," he says. "A military commander has to work with the people who have fought his soldiers, and mediate with political officials."
"The Americans changed in the last year," he says. "Now they are trying to listen. They choose the right people."
Hamdani is a Shiite, but his tribe — like many in Iraq — also includes Sunnis. He leads one of the new Sunni paramilitary groups fighting al-Qaeda, and his brother Hassan participates in USIP reconciliation efforts.
As the Americans leave, Hamdani huddles with Steve Jones, a civilian planner on Zemp's reconstruction team, to discuss building a water-treatment plant.
But he is nervous about radical Shiites who still hide in the town and fears the new Sunni paramilitaries could be a problem in the future if the government doesn't give them jobs. "The extreme right and the extreme left only want power," he says.
In his headquarters, with large area maps on the walls and a historic painting of Arab horsemen fighting in the desert, the tall, straightforward commander dismisses the idea of loyalty to sect or ethnic group. He says sternly: "We must put Iraq first before tribe, political parties, families." He is a Shiite married to a Sunni who gave one son the Shiite name Hussein and a second the Sunni name Omar.
In a new military accused of sectarianism, this is the kind of Iraqi soldier who gives hope that the army may yet jell. He wants to re-establish order and lawfulness in his country. He enjoys the trust of the tribes.
Once opposed to the Americans, he says emotionally of Zemp's troops: "These guys support us."
These portraits can't tell us what's in Mahmoudiya's future, but they explain some of the positive changes — in Army doctrine, in the tribal turn against al-Qaida and in improvements in the Iraqi army. They also reveal an Iraqi public tired of violence and eager for an alternative.
Things could go sour, but Mahmoudiya shows the possibilities for an outcome that could permit Americans to go home. I came away from my visit convinced there's at least a chance to consolidate recent gains.
Trudy Rubin is a columnist and editorial board member for the Philadelphia Inquirer. Reach her at trubin@phillynews.com.
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