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The Weekly Standard
Of Prisons and Palaces
From the August
4 / August 11, 2003 issue: Notes from liberated Iraq.
by Stephen F.
Hayes
Abu Gharib Prison, Iraq
I MAY BE THE FIRST PERSON in history
to have been happy to be inside Abu Gharib prison. The facility, just west of
Baghdad, was the heart of Saddam Hussein's torture apparatus. On this day,
however, the temperature had reached above 120 degrees, and the sun was
relentless. The prison at least provided some shade.
I came as one of six
reporters accompanying a small delegation led by Deputy Defense Secretary Paul
Wolfowitz. We were halfway through a four-day tour of Iraq. With our base in
Baghdad, we raced from city to village in a sweeping arc from the Shiite south
to the Kurdish north. We returned most nights to the capital and slept in an
outlying building on the grounds of one of
Saddam Hussein's opulent
palaces--also named Abu Gharib.
The palace was built in 1999, as U.N.
sanctions were bringing economic devastation to most of Iraq. The grounds extend
for miles--it takes us 13 minutes to drive from the main palace to the exit--and
feature several manmade lakes filled with water that looks artificially blue.
Handrails lead down into the water from a patio overlooking the lakes. Outdoor
showers are available in small stalls adjacent to the patio--or were. The palace
today is without running water, a casualty of a stray American bomb. One
building
just down the road from the main palace was hit hard. There was
intelligence that Uday Hussein had been hiding there, we're told--a report that
at first sounds plausible but becomes less believable each time I hear it over
the course of the trip. It seems every building damaged during the war was
thought to have held Uday Hussein. But physical evidence of the war here is
generally scarce.
Hanging from the ceiling in the foyer of the main
palace is a massive chandelier, maybe 100 feet in diameter. The floors and most
of the walls are marble. Most of the furnishings are gold or are painted to look
like gold. One soldier calls the style "Saudi gaudy."
There could hardly
be a greater contrast than with the prison of the same name. It sits surrounded
by the vast and dry nothingness that is the terrain outside of Baghdad. The
ground around the prison is littered with soda cans, plastic wrappings, pieces
of paper, and razor wire.
The inside smells like fresh paint. American
soldiers living and working here are repainting the walls of one wing. Although
many coalition officials favored shutting the place down--the mere mention of
its name can induce physical sickness among Iraqis--the country lacks another
high-security detention center. So it's expected to operate for the next three
years at least.
The soldiers have done a good job. But just down the hall
from the wing they have fixed up are several stark reminders of the atrocities
committed here.
The two coalition officials guiding us through the facility take us first
to one of its execution chambers. On the ceiling are two well-secured handles
that look like the grips from a pommel horse. The rope is tied to these. Twelve
feet below, two large square holes have been cut into the cement floor. And in a
basement below, there is a wide berth for the vehicles used to remove the
bodies.
Bill Irvine is one of those in charge of the prison. He is a
slight, balding man with a pink complexion. His sing-song Irish accent seems
incompatible with his words. "One of the former guards that I interviewed in
recent weeks told me that on one particular day there were as many as 66 persons
executed in this chamber. They had refrigeration and cooling rooms for 80 bodies
at a time. And they carried out the executions on a Wednesday and a Sunday--very
regularly on both those days. It was very seldom that there were no executions
here."
The assembly-line killing that took place within these walls
accounts for a far lower death toll than the 300,000 estimated to lie in the
mass graves now being dug up at scores of sites around the country. Still, "as
many as 30,000 were executed here in this prison," Irvine explains. "There are
reports--unsubstantiated reports--but there are reports of at least 100,000
people killed in this prison."
The killing continued as the regime was on
its way to extinction. "Even three days before the prison closed," Irvine says,
"I am told that there were executions here."
The prison closed on October
10, 2002. Saddam Hussein issued a decree freeing nearly all of the common
criminals--some 70,000 from Abu Ghirab alone--and some of his political
prisoners. There are many things that might explain postwar looting and security
problems. This is one of them.
"Many of those prisoners were charged and imprisoned for very, very serious
crimes," Irvine continues. "Especially in Baghdad, the military forces have been
arresting people who were actually released here. So we believe that a high
percentage of the people who were released are actually involved in criminality
now in Baghdad." Many Iraqis who survived their sentences here have returned
since their country was liberated on April 9.
As we walk down the hall
towards the dining facility, now a makeshift sleeping room for hundreds of
American soldiers, one Iraqi walking with us stops me and another American. We
are not quite sure what he's doing with the group--perhaps he's a contractor or
a former guard. He grabs the electrical wires hanging from the wall of one cell,
applies them to his body, and shakes violently, as if being shocked.
The
walls of the cafeteria are decorated with pictures and tributes to Saddam
Hussein. Our interpreter translates: "All love and faith to our leader, Saddam
Hussein." "Say yes, yes to leader Saddam Hussein." "There's no life without the
sun, and no dignity without Saddam."
On one wall, accompanied by a
15-foot mural of Saddam wearing 1970s retro-porn sunglasses, is a mock prison
identification card for Iraq.
Father: Saddam Hussein
Mother: Arab
Nation
Title: Leader of Victory and Peace
Date of Birth: 17th of
July
Type of Blood: Arab milk
Place of Birth: Under the Shade of a Palm
Tree
Distinguishing Marks: The tattoo of sincerity
Profession: Knight of
the Arab nation
Address: From the Gulf to the Ocean
Place of Birth: In the
heart of every Arab citizen
Ideology: Socialist Baath Arab Party
Writer of
this ID: The Arab nation
"The horror of this place and the kinds of
things that went on here I think can help you understand why the fear of Saddam
Hussein hasn't left this country, especially because people are convinced that
he's still alive," said Wolfowitz after the tour.
Bill Irvine says plans
are in place to make most of the prison a memorial. "It'll be a reminder for
many, many years of what happened here."
ONE MIGHT EXPECT a visit to Abu
Ghirab would stir reflections on the most profound matters--the nature of evil,
the existence of God. Instead, I could not shake words I'd read in the
Washington Post of July 15, 2003, the day before I'd left for Iraq. Reporting on
the likelihood of stepped-up attacks on coalition forces on July 17, a national
holiday under the previous regime, Kevin Sullivan wrote: "Although Iraq's new
Governing Council's first official action was to abolish Hussein-era holidays,
July 17 still stands for Saddam in a country deeply unsure if the military
occupation is better than his dictatorship."
A country deeply unsure
if the military occupation is better than his dictatorship. Could this be
true? What about the question put so well in a headline over a column by Michael
Kelly in that same newspaper just weeks before his untimely death: "Who Would
Choose Tyranny?" Could it be that Iraqis might actually prefer despotism to
freedom, so long as the despot was one of their own?
Judging from dozens
of interviews with Iraqis, U.S. soldiers, and representatives of humanitarian
and aid groups over the course of our trip, the answer is no. Most Iraqis are
overjoyed about their liberation. The American troops I spoke with, even those
from units that have suffered postwar casualties, said they have received a warm
welcome from their hosts.
But most surprising were the strong words of praise for postwar Iraq from
NGO leaders. If even some of what this delegation heard is true, the
reconstruction of Iraq is going much better than reports in the American media
suggest.
In Najaf on July 19, Wolfowitz met with the new city council. In
this Shiite holy city, as elsewhere throughout the country, Iraqis had a
two-part message. "You have done tremendous things for Iraq," said Haydar al
Mayalli, the interim governor. "You still have a heavy responsibility towards
our country. You have commitments that must be filled to the Iraqi people. And
we are grateful that you have opened the door to democracy and
freedom."
A local sheikh spoke next. "By destroying the instruments of
terrorism and the Baath party, the people of Najaf breathe in relief," he said.
He listed infrastructure, electricity, water, and security as Najaf's most
pressing needs, before reminding Wolfowitz of the stakes. "The world is watching
you to see what you do."
Wolfowitz acknowledged the importance of the
transition and complimented those on the council for their participation. "We
know that the people of the south--particularly this city--have suffered more
than others. For their memory, we have an obligation to succeed in the tasks you
described. The great cities for Shia Islam are setting a model for democratic
Iraq."
The council in Najaf had been in existence for just two weeks. Its
22 members were elected from a larger group assembled from leaders of the brand
new professional associations and civic organizations that are springing up,
alongside new political parties, unions, and religious groups. It is an
encouraging first step.
Similar councils exist in most major cities in
Iraq, including Basra, Karbala, Baghdad, Mosul, and Kirkuk. In Kirkuk, an
oil-rich city in the north, coalition officials brought together a delegation of
300 local leaders representing each of the religious and ethnic groups in the
city. That group then elected an interim council of 30 members, which in turn
picked a mayor, a deputy mayor, and three assistant mayors. That was two months
ago. Wolfowitz met with the council on July 21.
"I would like to express
my thanks to you and George Bush for taking this courageous decision," said
Kamal Kirkuki, a Kurdish assistant mayor, "even though some other nations
objected and the United Nations did nothing to liberate us from this
tyrant."
Here, too, Wolfowitz was greeted with a mix of gratitude and pleas
for help. Asked Dr. Amed Nasser Azzo, a council member, "When is it possible to
establish media in Iraq to compete with Arab satellite television that agitates
for instability in Iraq?"
EARLIER MONDAY, Wolfowitz met in Mosul with
representatives of various nongovernmental and humanitarian organizations
working in Iraq. Much of the meeting, which featured groups like the United
Nations and Save the Children, was made near incomprehensible by a blizzard of
acronyms. The comments I could understand were striking. One representative of
the U.N.
office of humanitarian assistance said, "We have gotten fantastic
cooperation from the U.S. military's civil affairs teams." An Iraqi man from
Suleimaniya, now working for the Mines Action Group, offered similar praise, and
so did an American, a recent Johns Hopkins graduate working for the Research
Triangle Institute. Interestingly, not one of the dozen or so humanitarian
workers in the room used the word "occupation." All of them referred to the
intervention as "the liberation."
America's challenges in free Iraq are
significant. Those of us traveling with Wolfowitz heard about them in detail.
Power is intermittent and unpredictable. Water isn't yet available at
prewar levels. Jobs are scarce. Conspiracy theories about American motives are
rampant. And security on the streets of Iraq is woefully lacking.
But
most of those problems are solvable. Meanwhile, most doomsday predictions
haven't come true. Few oil fields were set on fire. Iraq's majority Shiite
population has resisted meddling from Iran. The Shiites didn't commit revenge
killings against the Sunnis. There is no move by the Kurds to secede. There was
no humanitarian crisis. There was no mass starvation. The "Arab street" was
quiet. And "friendly" Arab governments never fell.
The 12 years of
containment between the two Gulf wars were costly for the Iraqis. Counting only
the mass graves and the executions at Abu Gharib, several hundred thousand at
least lost their lives while Saddam Hussein was "kept in his box."
"If
you'd say, 'Go through another 12 years of containment,' after seeing what we
saw," says Wolfowitz, "I mean, that's impossible to argue." He added, "Some
people say war is intrinsically immoral. This one wasn't."
Stephen F.
Hayes is a staff writer at The Weekly
Standard.