OR EXPECTEDLY:

Democracy 101: Travel with `Mr. Mike' as he sets about winning hearts and minds in southern Iraq (Kevin Whitelaw, 2/2/04, US News)

Amid a grove of palm trees surrounded by farmlands, lunch is being served in the tribal guesthouse. Men clad mostly in traditional robes sit barefoot on carpets around a feast of lamb, rice, and grilled fish. The center of attention on this day isn't one of the gathered Shiite tribal chiefs or the tall, bearded cleric; it is a mustachioed American they politely call Mr. Mike.

With some amusement, the Iraqis watch their guest pick at the food with his fingers, as is the local custom, but they pay close attention as he talks about democracy. In turn, he listens to their complaints about the American plan for a transitional government and about the Iraqi politicians in Baghdad. "We didn't know much about Iraqi culture and people, and so that's why we have made some mistakes," he replies in fluent, Egyptian-accented Arabic. "We only knew about the army."

In some ways, Mr. Mike calls to mind a soft-spoken, Midwestern version of Indiana Jones, with an olive fedora, a rumpled safari jacket, and a Buck knife (his "insurance policy") strapped to his waist. Here in the Shiite heartland, home to the ruins of the ancient city of Babylon, Mike Gfoeller (GE-fel-ler), a 46-year-old veteran diplomat, administers a swath of southern and central Iraq. He is the civilian face of the U.S. military occupation, one of the relatively few Americans Iraqis encounter who isn't sporting body armor, wraparound sunglasses, and an M-16. Instead, he is armed with a diplomat's skills. Intimately familiar with Arab culture from past postings in Saudi Arabia and Bahrain, he speaks the language, which he learned in college and on a Fulbright fellowship in Egypt.

Nine months after American tanks first rolled into Baghdad, the historic attempt to transform Iraq into something akin to a democracy remains troubled. American misjudgments, a persistent insurgency, and a deeply divided Iraqi population scarred by years of repression threaten to plunge Iraq into deeper violence. But Gfoeller's cross-cultural encounters here are, at least for now, something quite different. The tribal chiefs talk of American "liberation" rather than "occupation," and they enthuse about their democratic future--even if they are a little fuzzy about the details. "We want an Iraqi democracy from Iraqi traditions, not from American ones," says Farkad al-Hussainy al-Quizwiny, a towering, thickly bearded sheik who heads a Shiite religious school in Hilla and works closely with Gfoeller. "But if an unwanted man reaches power, we should force him out." This provokes a sharp debate. "Even if a man reach power with 50 percent, we should back him," insists Abdul Aziz al-Yasiri, a politician who has come from Baghdad seeking the tribe's support. The local Iraqis agree, then shift to discussing, of all things, the upcoming U.S. election and how their actions might help support President Bush.

The vibrant Shiite tribal network--built upon the strong loyalities felt by perhaps 60 percent of the region's Shiite population--offers a reason to be hopeful. "Unexpectedly, it turns out the conservative Shiite tribes are the most fertile ground for democracy," Gfoeller observes after the lunch, as his armored Chevy Suburban careens along dirt roads, dodging children and livestock. "They don't know the first thing about democracy, but they want to try it." [...]

The tribal leaders' apparent openness to American ideas seems to spring in part from their gratitude to the nation that ousted Saddam. Mass graves testify to Saddam's brutal repression of Iraq's Shiites; as a reminder, one host at the luncheon carries a photo in his pocket of his brother's severed head. Democracy, many of them also realize, could help the Shiites--who make up about 60 percent of Iraq's population--claim greater power in the traditionally Sunni-dominated nation. So far, the five impoverished Shiite provinces that Gfoeller effectively governs--which include the holy cities of Najaf and Karbala--have been relatively quiet, with few coalition casualties. "We are providing them security," says Ahmad Khabut, a tribal leader and the mayor of Al Kifl, near Hilla. "We believe the coalition will make Iraq a prosperous country." Gfoeller's headquarters compound in Hilla has been hit by mortar several times, as recently as two weeks ago. After one attack, he politely turned down an offer by a tribal chief to track down, and presumably kill, the attackers.

Of course, even here, the obstacles threaten to snuff out the glimmers of hope. Ayatollah Ali Sistani, Iraq's most important Shiite cleric, is demanding early elections, jeopardizing the U.S. plan to turn over power to a transitional government by July 1 (with full elections once there is a new constitution and census). In Baghdad, tens of thousands of Shiites turned out in support of Sistani, who refuses to meet with any Americans, including Gfoeller. And there are worrisome upstart Shiite clerics like Moqtada al-Sadr, who draw support from desperate, unemployed urban Shiites. Meanwhile, Gfoeller's sixth province is Al Anbar, in the restive Sunni triangle. Violence there has ebbed slightly in the wake of Saddam's capture, but the attacks continue. Last week, in two separate incidents on the same day in Al Anbar, insurgents killed two Iraqi policemen and four Iraqi women working at a U.S. base.

As for the Shiite tribes near Babylon and democracy, it's still the early days. But whether drawn by curiosity or conviction, hundreds of tribal leaders, religious clerics, community leaders, and even women from the region pack into the marble-walled meeting rooms of the old Saddam Mosque in Hilla for a lecture on democracy. "Everyone is here to be acquainted with democracy," says Sheik Thahar Abdul Khadum Mokeef al-Jabouri, a local tribal chief who heads a union of farmers in Hilla. A local farmer, Ali Madlum al-Fatlawi, agrees: "Democracy is the only solution for the Shia."

As bad as the WMD intelligence was, our misunderstanding of how well suited Shi'ism is to democracy appears to have been an equally dismal failure.

MORE:
The Mullah and Democracy (BERNHARD ZAND, 1/26/04, Der Speigel)

The two most powerful religious leaders in the modern history of the Shiites studied in Najaf with the legendary Grand Ayatollah Abd al-Kassim al-Chui. Neither of the two turned out entirely as his teacher might have wished. According to Chui, one of the two men, Iran's revolutionary leader Ruhollah Khomeini, was always more interested in politics than theology. A great tribune of the people, but only moderately successful as a religious scholar.

In the 1980s, Chui referred to the other of his two pupils and his later successor, Sajid Ali al-Sistani, as a great mind, adding that his problem was that he was too much of a homebody. According to Chui, Sistani spent too much time studying religious texts instead of venturing outside and encouraging his fellow believers to resist Saddam's dictatorship. The old Chui disapproved of Sistani's behavior. Perhaps it is precisely this criticism from the man who was his teacher in the days of the Iran-Iraq war, and who died in 1992, that today shapes the actions of Grand Ayatollah Sistani.

A little more than a year ago, the name of this religious scholar from the Shiite city of Najaf, except to his followers, was little more than a concept to a few Western scholars of Islam. However, the longer the American occupation in Iraq lasts, the more significant is the 73-year-old religious leader's influence on world politics.

Posted by Orrin Judd at January 26, 2004 3:10 PM