Walid Phares, Iraqis Protest Terrorism, FrontPageMagazine.com
http://www.frontpagemag.com/Articles/ReadArticle.asp?ID=11259 Iraqis for the "Occupation"By Dr. Walid Phares FrontPageMagazine.com | December 11, 2003Yesterday's demonstrations in Baghdad and other Iraqi cities were a benchmark: Iraq's resistance to terrorism has begun. Ironically, the first TV station to report such a revolutionary development was none other than al-Jazeera, the jihad channel across the Arab world. But the exclusive airing of such footages was not so innocent. The Qatar-based media understood much faster than Western networks the real dimensions of these marches. Therefore it decided to report it first, and, through condescending coverage, demean it in the eyes of Iraqi and Arab viewers, a traditional-yet-efficient subversive tactic. But whatever were the desperate attempts to pre-empt the unfolding realities, the latter rolled on.Almost 20,000 men and women - twice the number reported by al-Jazeera - marched across central Baghdad, while others repeated the move in different cities of Mesopotamia yesterday. The demonstrators, from all walks of life and from all religions and ethnicities of Iraq, shouted one slogan in Arabic: "La' la' lil irhab. Na'am, na'am lil dimucratiya." That is: "No, no to terrorism. Yes, yes to Democracy!" Taking the streets of the former capital of the Ba'athist prison, Iraqi Shiite, Sunni, Kurds and Christians bonded together against the "enemies of peace." Responding to the call of the newly formed "Popular Committee against Terrorism," tens of thousands of citizens slapped Saddam and his former regime in the face. Speakers at a central square declared clearly: "We will resist the return of the dictatorship to power. With or without the Americans, we are now a resistance against the Baath and the foreign Terrorists." The masses, finally taking their courage in their hands, have exposed their deepest feelings. Many intellectuals, writers, women activists, students were seen in the front lines of the demonstration. "We will not allow the remnant of the intelligence service of Saddam destroy this new experiment of democracy and freedom," said one leader live on al-Jazeera television. The scene was more reminiscent of Prague and Budapest than any other recent battlefield. More significant yet was the open participation of labor unions. Unexpectedly, Iraqi workers were the most excited participants in the march against Wahabi and Baathist Terror. "We need factories, we need peace, no fascists, no fanatics," sang the laborites, as though they were in Manchester or Detroit. But there was even a more significant element in the marches. Cadres from the "Hizb al-Dawa al Islamiya" - a rather conservative Islamic "movement" whose members were walking under the same banners of resistance to terrorism. Why? Well, we need to understand the Shi'a drama. By the day, mass graves are being uncovered with thousands of bodies of men, women and children, all massacred by the Saddam security. How on Earth would the Shiite majority ever accept the return to power of the Sunni-controlled Ba'ath Party?Let's note two matters about these demonstrations. First, they were almost not reported in much of the Western media. Until late last night in Europe and the Western Hemisphere, news focused on the operations against Coalition forces. But the Iraqi people's genuine calls for democracy were not heard, not seen, and not factored in the game. The BBC and CNN downplayed the events, while al-Jazeera mislead the Arab world about them. The jihad network spent more editorial energy undermining the objectives and the credibility of the event than reporting it. The anchors, to the disbelief of many viewers in the Arab world, said the marchers were "expressing views against what they call terrorism" (emphasis added). Al-Jazeera evidently reserves to itself the definition of terrorism. Since September 11, the network has systematically added "what they call terrorism" to each sentence reporting terror attacks by al-Qaeda, other jihadist factions and the Saddam. In sum, that is not terrorism, but a Western view of what is legitimate violence. But al-Jazeera's sour surprise with the first steps of popular resistance to jihadism in Baghdad took the network by surprise. As it was airing the segment, its anchors lost linguistic balance and added this time: "The demonstrators are criticizing what they call violence!" Hence, the editors in Qatar were trapped ideologically. They couldn't even accept the idea that Arabs could be marching against violence, so they described tens of massacres and bombings as "alleged violence," (ma yusamma bil unf). The al-Jazeera debacle was probably the most important victory of the demonstration.But two others ironies were also hanging over Baghdad last night. One was the link between President Bush's drive to push for democracy in Iraq and the region, and the other was the silence of those who wer
Profile: Entifadh Qanbar, Atlanta Journal-Constitution
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution Tech graduate helps engineer revival of Iraq By LARRY KAPLOW The Atlanta Journal-Constitution December 10, 2003 BAGHDAD, Iraq -- At least once, his class ring from Georgia Tech helped Entifadh Qanbar through the layers of tight security surrounding the American compound in Iraq's capital. When a soldier on duty noticed the ring of this Georgia Tech alumnus, he didn't even ask Qanbar for a photo ID. Not that he would need it anyway. As the spokesman for the Iraqi National Congress, Qanbar is one of the more recognizable faces among Iraq's emerging political class. Qanbar, 45, gave up a career as an engineer in Atlanta for the crucible of his native Iraq as it struggles to overcome war and decades of tyrannical rule by Saddam Hussein. He has gone from bar-hopping in downtown Atlanta and antiques shopping in the Georgia countryside to an Iraqi political scene that keeps him watched over by a coterie of rifle-toting guards who speed him through chaotic Baghdad streets in his Toyota Land Cruiser. The energetic, dapper Qanbar is a good fit for a place where Iraqis and Americans keep close, if sometimes tense quarters. "I consider myself a bridge between Iraqi culture and American culture. The gap is not as big as people think," said Qanbar, a naturalized U.S. citizen. Born in Baghdad, Qanbar lived in Atlanta from 1994 to 2000, receiving a master's degree in environmental engineering from Georgia Tech in 1999 before launching a consulting career. He had a parallel life as a political exile, working for the Iraqi National Congress and its leader, Ahmed Chalabi. He made headlines when he helped an Iraqi weightlifter defect to the United States at the 1996 Summer Olympics. He went on to head the Congress' Washington office and help form a militia that accompanied U.S. troops into Iraq this spring. These are triumphant days for Qanbar, having returned to Baghdad for the first time since 1990. Chalabi is on the 25-member governing council chosen by the United States. Qanbar conducts a steady stream of interviews and news conferences and sits in at council meetings when his boss travels. Iraqis come to him seeking help with the Americans or the Iraqi National Congress' clout in removing former Baath Party members from government posts. A fashion maven, Qanbar dons wide pinstriped suits, pink or purple dress shirts and satin handkerchiefs, and wears his hair slicked back. He also keeps a silver revolver tucked in the back of his pants. His cordiality belies a toughness. In 1987, Qanbar and his brother were arrested by the Saddam regime on suspicions they opposed the government. He said they were informed on by a friend, also arrested, who told of denunciations of the regime they had made in gatherings with friends. Seeing 'the real America' Qanbar spent 47 days in jail, facing repeated interrogations and beatings and being forced to watch his brother beaten in front of him. Released from jail, he took the first chance at newly opened borders to flee the country in 1990. Already a successful engineer, he flew to London and, eventually, the United States. He spent 14 years in America, moving from Detroit to Rhode Island and then to Atlanta to attend Georgia Tech. The South took Qanbar out of what could have been an insular existence in Arab-American communities. "I wanted to go see the real America," he said in an interview between calls on his mobile phone in the bar of the hunting club the Iraqi National Congress uses as an informal headquarters and hangout. "Getting out of the Arab-American community gave me a chance to re-create myself." Qanbar said he was an avid partygoer. He also found his political footing after meeting Chalabi in 1992. "I developed myself in the political arena in Atlanta," he said. A major coup came during the 1996 Summer Games in Atlanta, when mutual friends put an Iraqi weightlifter, Raed Ahmed, in touch with Qanbar. Qanbar used credentials for gaining access to his summer studies at the university to sneak into the athletes' village. The secret operation included eluding intelligence agents who kept watch over the athlete. Qanbar slipped him a piece of paper with an inside joke from a friend to prove his trustworthiness. Later, Ahmed was sneaked away to an Atlanta hotel for his defection and -- showing the Iraqi National Congress' knack for publicity -- dozens of reporters were waiting with Qanbar to receive him. Ferreting out 'sweet talkers' Qanbar then put his Atlanta experience to use in Washington, heading up the Iraqi National Congress' interaction with Congress, including former House Speaker Newt Gingrich of Georgia. In Baghdad, his adopted Atlanta roots still come in handy. He caught on, for example, to the way many Americans are taken in by Western-styled, English-speaking Iraqi "sweet talkers." They often turn out to have been Baath Party supporters under Saddam. He's noticed how sincere Iraqis, less aware of Western ways, somet
Ayad Rahim, State Dept Keeps Iraqi Orchestra under wraps, WSJ
The Wall Street Journal LEISURE & ARTS The Iraqi Orchestra Is Here Why is the State Department keeping it quiet? BY AYAD RAHIM Thursday, December 11, 2003 12:01 a.m. EST WASHINGTON--What does it take to get some service around here? Several weeks ago, I was asked by this newspaper to write an advance article on the Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra's visit to Washington. Their concert, which took place this Tuesday night at the Kennedy Center, included Maestro Leonard Slatkin, the (American) National Symphony Orchestra and cellist Yo-Yo Ma. President and Mrs. Bush, Secretary of State Colin Powell and Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld were in attendance. As an immigrant from Iraq with extensive knowledge of the issues, I would interview the musicians about their situation, and that of artists in general, under Saddam and in the new, post-Saddam era. I would look at what orchestra members have been through--the general manager had served 16 years in prison because he refused to work as a spy for the regime. And I would try to learn about the orchestra members' hopes for the future, their institution and for Iraqi arts and culture as a whole. This was a good news story for the government. As Mr. Powell said in introducing the orchestra on Tuesday night, "What we're about to hear is the sound of hope, the sweet, sweet sound of freedom." So you'd have thought that people at the State Department and the Kennedy Center would have been falling over themselves in the weeks before the concert to arrange media access. Instead, they acted more as if they had defectors from the North Korea Symphony Orchestra on their hands and as if the slightest press exposure would trigger an international incident. The Kennedy Center responded to my first e-mails, sent more than a month ago, by telling me they did not know when the Iraqis would arrive, nor what their schedule would be. Still in the dark two weeks later, I was told by a perturbed Kennedy Center official that this was a "complex operation involving the White House, the State Department, the Kennedy Center and [Washington] National Symphony." A week later I tried the State Department, co-sponsor with the Kennedy Center of the event, but made even less headway. No spokesperson would say when the orchestra would arrive, nor would they tell me anything about their schedule or even whether I'd be able to make contact with an orchestra member. I did manage to get contact information for Hisham Sharaf, director of the Iraqi orchestra. But I had to open a back channel to do so, one that led from an acquaintance in Cleveland, where I live, to a music collector, to a retired music critic in Cleveland, to a violinist in Vermont who'd formed a group called Young Musicians Without Borders to aid the Iraqi orchestra and their school, to a Norwegian aid group through which the Vermonter was working. I e-mailed Mr. Sharaf and called him a couple of days later. No response. I appealed to the Norwegians as well as an old friend, Sultan Khatib, a top Iraqi concert pianist in the Gulf, for help. The phone number I had for Mr. Sharaf in Baghdad, it turns out, is a cell phone with a New York area code. When I called again, five days before the concert, I was told Mr. Sharaf was in Jordan and was due to leave there the next day, Friday night. From that, I deduced the Iraqis would arrive in America on Saturday, three days before the concert. Meanwhile, officials in Washington would not confirm my hunch about the Iraqis' arrival date. Calls to the State Department and the Kennedy Center yielded only that the Iraqis would arrive "late in the weekend." Midway through last week, Tikki Davies, a Kennedy Center official, said that there was no chance to meet with any of the Iraqis before the concert, as "they will be totally busy from the time they arrive--practicing, meeting, with the [Washington] National Symphony--from morning till late at night." If I wanted to meet with anybody, she said, I was to attend an event the Iraqis would have for schoolchildren, the day after the concert--too late for my deadline. Later, I learned that a rehearsal was opened up to the press--for all of 15 minutes. Members of the press, though, were kept more than 11 rows from the stage. After my repeated prodding and insistence last week, Adam Meier, the State Department person handling the Iraqi orchestra, said he was "working to get me time with one or two [orchestra] members before the concert." By then, my search had led beyond State and the Kennedy Center. I was contacting people in the Washington National Symphony, the Defense Department and the Coalition Provisional Authority. Invariably, my messages went unreturned. I left Cleveland to drive to Washington on Friday, making more calls along the way. By my count, I had now spoken with 31 officials and had no more information than when I'd started. Still, I made a second round of phone calls later in the afternoon. How absurd was this getting? My
