Arabs shooting in Tikrit

Peshmergas torch a mural of Saddam inside the Tikrit city limitsTIKRIT, Iraq — We made it inside the city lim­its, about 5 km from the city cen­ter, before we got shot at.
We had decided to get an early start and headed out to Kirkuk and then to Tikrit. Along the way, we agreed to meet in Kirkuk to form a con­voy of other jour­nal­ists. While we were wait­ing for the other guys — mostly Ital­ians and Ger­mans — to show up, we talked with some of the Kirkukis.
The appear­ance of calm is decep­tive, they said. Dur­ing the day, the police keep a sem­blance of order, but at night, rov­ing gangs with guns have been ter­ror­iz­ing peo­ple in their homes. The peo­ple we talked to also said they had had no water for four days.
“Why doesn’t Amer­ica do some­thing?” asked Sal­ima Abdul-Kadir Abdula, a nurse at the hos­pi­tal in town. She can’t drive to work because she’s afraid of car­jack­ings.
More omi­nously for the future, per­haps, was Sham Sideem Has­san, 45, a charis­matic teacher who was work­ing the crowd that had gath­ered.
“These Arabs here, they are Sad­damists!” he yelled. “They have to go! They can­not stay! Kirkuk is Kur­dish and Turkomen. Get those Arabs out!“
The last line was the money line, caus­ing the crowd to burst into applause. Another man tugged my sleeve, pointed to Has­san and said, “This is good, this is good!“
Fig­ures vary, but there may be as many as 100,000 Arab fam­i­lies who were trucked up to Kirkuk under the Ba’athist regime’s pol­icy of Ara­biza­tion since 1977. It’s unclear how wide­spread Hassan’s ideas are, but they don’t bode well for the future.
After we finally hooked up with our con­voy, we set out. They all had com­bat vests and four-wheel drive vehi­cles. But we sol­diered on, even when they stu­pidly stopped at a cross­roads about 10 km from the city lim­its.
“We heard some­thing about this cross­road,” said their trans­la­tor as he stepped out of the car. There was no cover any­where and we were easy tar­gets.
“Why the hell are we stop­ping?” J. asked and Frey­doon gunned the engine.
The route to Tikrit is ugly and tire­some. Not quite desert and not quite fer­tile, dust rises at the slight­est breeze and gets every­where. The hills are jagged and dim­pled with craters, some out­lined in scorch marks. The land is blasted away in many places. Even in April, stand­ing in the sun­light for a few moments was uncom­fort­ably warm.
The road was thank­fully spot­ted with pesh­mer­gas, but their pres­ence was light, so we were wary. Along the way, we passed an over­turned mobile mis­sile launcher with the mis­sile still attached. To my and J.‘s untrained eyes, it looked like a surface-to-surface mis­sile.
Enter­ing the city was tense. We had no idea who was friendly and who wasn’t. The pesh­mer­gas told us that Arabs were shoot­ing at any Kurds they saw. The streets on the out­skirts were mostly deserted. The few men who were on the street car­ried Kalish­nikovs.
Our con­voy stopped on the out­skirts so some PUK pesh­mer­gas could stage a lit­tle media event. A large bill­board of Sad­dam in Bedouin dress greeted vis­i­tors. They doused it with gaso­line and set it on fire, pos­ing in front of the burn­ing por­trait for our troupe’s cam­eras.
While we were stand­ing around admir­ing the flames, a man in a dark car, com­ing from the direc­tion of –Haweja– Uja, Saddam’s birth­place, pulled up. He watched the bill­board burn silently and then waved at me. I was about 20 meters away. I waved back war­ily. Then he beck­oned me closer.
No way. I shook my head at him and called out to J., Frey­doon and Sabah, our trans­la­tor. “Let’s go.“
Smoke from the direc­tion of Haweja was a black smudge in the sky. We could see, off in the dis­tance over Tikrit, an Amer­i­can heli­copter gun­ship buzzing low over the rooftops. Every few sec­onds a muted BOOM rolled over us. Reports from our short-wave BBC pickup said U.S. troops were meet­ing lit­tle resis­tance.
We moved fur­ther into the city along a four-lane high­way with a median. Two of the other SUVs were in front of us. Sud­denly another SUV pulled in front of our train and stopped. The man in the pas­sen­ger side draped a white flag out the win­dow at arm’s length. Another dark car pulled up on his side block­ing the way. Some­thing smelled really bad about this sit­u­a­tion.
“Back up, back up!” we demanded of Frey­doon, and he pulled back far enough to spin the wheel and force us through a gap in the median. We heard shout­ing behind us and then the sharp crack of gun­fire. We all ducked and Frey­doon floored it north out of town. I don’t know what hap­pened to the Ger­mans and Ital­ians and I’m wor­ried.
We drove back to the ruined mis­sile launcher before I made the call to try again. But on the way back in, we saw many, many cars stream­ing from the direc­tion of Tikrit, includ­ing a num­ber of media cars. Sev­eral dri­vers motioned for us to turn around and by the third time, I was suf­fi­ciently freaked out to pay them some heed. We turned around and caught up with a truck full of men. As we sped along the high­way, they told us the Arabs had started shoot­ing at every­one in sight, and that Tikrit was not safe.
I decided we should head back to Kirkuk to work out our next move.

More questions …

IRAQI HIGHWAY 2 TO KIRKUK, Iraq — While en route to take another stab at Tikrit, I thought I’d answer a cou­ple of ques­tions.
Syria may or may not be the next tar­get, I don’t know. No one here knows any­thing as that deci­sion will be made in Wash­ing­ton. I’ll ask around, how­ever, but I doubt any­one will be able to tell me about it.
Some­one in the com­ments asked about an action photo. I’m not fond of hav­ing my pic­ture taken, but I’ll see if J. can whip some­thing up.
Opie asked when I was com­ing back. My return ticket was for April 24, but that’s scotched at the moment for two rea­son. One, Swiss Air has gone out of busi­ness. Two, I can’t go back through Turkey, since I’ve heard from a buddy in the Newsweek bureau in Istan­bul that B2I has come to the atten­tion of the author­i­ties. And since I smug­gled myself across the bor­der and I have no exit stamp on my Turk­ish visa, I would be arrested when I come back. Prob­a­bly I’d be fined and released after a few hours. Maybe not, how­ever. I don’t feel like chanc­ing it, so I’m look­ing for an alter­na­tive exit strat­egy. Jor­dan or Kuwait, per­haps. Besides, I’ve never been to either coun­try. And in my more opti­mistic moments, I think, “There’s always Bagh­dad Inter­na­tional.“
Also, I just had another $3000 wired. A guy here in Arbil has a dol­lar account in Turkey. It’s a bank-to-bank trans­fer, and he keeps 5% of the money and release the rest to me in cash. He’s a human ATM machine. Deals like this is how cash gets into Iraqi Kur­dis­tan. The upside is that since my return plans are now a bit up in the air, the money will allow me to stay a lit­tle longer, per­haps if I choose.
Lastly, there needs to be an exit strat­egy for B2I itself. I’m unde­cided on what to do, other than take a break after this war — I’ve been doing the site solo for about 10 months now on an almost daily basis. I need a vaca­tion. But after that? Per­son­ally, I’m going to have to go back to work and/or find another job. I’ll def­i­nitely spin some of the sto­ries on B2I into free­lance arti­cles or syn­di­cate some of them. I’ve had some nib­bles on book deals and I’ll look into that, too.
But what hap­pens to the site? I think we can declare this exper­i­ment in inde­pen­dent, reader-funded jour­nal­ism a suc­cess. But where do we go from here? I’m open to sug­ges­tions, so please leave them in the com­ments sec­tion on this entry.
On to Tikrit.

Road to Tikrit

KIRKUK, Iraq — I’m stand­ing about 50 km from Tikrit and ner­vous enough to feel like I’ve just swal­lowed molten lead. The road is as straight as an sniper shot. Behind me, about 10 km, stands the last PUK check­point after Kirkuk. The land is flat, and per­haps it’s my imag­i­na­tion, but it appears stunted and less fer­tile than the hills and moun­tains to the north east. There is a light wind that smells faintly of burn­ing oil. Every now and then a car passes our small encamp­ment on the side of the road and its pas­sen­gers peer at us intently. The ones com­ing from the direc­tion of Tikrit don’t smile. Before us lies the strong­hold of Sad­dam Hus­sein, and I have to make a deci­sion to press on or not.
J. and I left ear­lier this morn­ing from Arbil think­ing the war was done, more or less, after see­ing the footage from CNN that things looked quiet. We left before we knew the truth. Cor­re­spon­dent Brent Sadler would come under fire from auto­matic weapons and flee the city under a hail of bul­lets.
When­ever we ask, pesh­mer­gas and other offi­cials tell it is “very dan­ger­ous” to go to Tikrit, that despite the claims of CENTCOM, U.S. forces are nowhere to be seen. Fara’doon Abdul-Kadir, the newly appointed interim gov­er­nor of Kirkuk, warns me that there are no pesh­mer­gas past the check­point — we’ll be on our own. We’re in a taxi with blue “TV” taped to the side pan­els and win­dows. Frey­doon, our loyal dri­ver and now body­guard, is pack­ing a 9mm Brown­ing Hi-Power that J. picked up at the weapons bazaar when I wasn’t look­ing. It won’t do much good, how­ever, against the Kalish­nikovs of the Feday­een Sad­dam.
The fact of the mat­ter is that Tikrit is “hot” as the journos here say. It is not “fine” as I thought it might be from CNN’s early footage. A Kur­dish jour­nal­ist and his crew that I’ve become friendly with were chased by men in black in black sedans later in the after­noon when they got within a few kilo­me­ters of the entrance of the city. Feday­een. From Mustafa’s descrip­tion of his pur­suers, they sound like James Bond vil­lains.
There is a rumor that Jalal Tal­a­bani, head of the PUK, sent in Said Jabadi, a for­mer Ba’athist, to nego­ti­ate a sur­ren­der of the city. Twenty-five of the 28 clans have agreed to sur­ren­der their weapons, but only to allied forces. No pesh­mer­gas. The other three, includ­ing Saddam’s clan, have said they will fight to the end. It seems, then, the Amer­i­can bom­bard­ment will con­tinue.
The lead­er­ship is holed up there, some believe, and the U.S. doesn’t want to take any chances on los­ing them. What hap­pens in the next few days will be a sharp, short shock. Tikrit, I’m guess­ing, will be cut off from the out­side world — no one in, no one out. The ques­tion is whether to be inside or out­side when that hap­pens.
Ulti­mately, I decide to turn back. It’s not worth it. We don’t have eight cylin­ders under our hood, we don’t have the pro­tec­tion, we don’t have the backup and so far, we don’t have a story. Yeah, it’d be cool to say I was in Tikrit before it was sacked, but I need to have a bet­ter story than what Tikri­tis think about the U.S. Marines and the demise of Saddam’s regime.
Tomor­row, we’ll try another probe, to see what we can see, but I’ve reserved the right to turn back at any time. See? I am a phys­i­cal cow­ard.
*In other news*
Kirkuk has been mostly brought under con­trol, and Mosul is on its way. The road to Kirkuk is patrolled and man­aged by U.S. troops. No weapons go in, except for a few AK-47s car­ried by autho­rized pesh­mer­gas. Inside the city, which saw much less loot­ing than Mosul, the process of cleanup has begun. Jar­ringly, police trucked in from Cham­chamal and Suleimaniya are wear­ing Iraqi police uni­forms, which look exactly like Iraqi Army uni­forms. The whole time I was in Kirkuk, I thought we were sur­rounded by Iraqi troops that had decided to make them­selves use­ful after sur­ren­der­ing.
Not the case, as it turns out. The Kurds are using the old uni­forms of the Iraqis so as not to antag­o­nize the Turks (or any­one else) into think­ing that “Kur­dish uni­forms” were the mark of an inde­pen­dence bid. So the Kurds, who have suf­fered griev­ously under the regime, have donned the sil­ver eagle, black beret and green fatigues of their enemy to keep Turkey and Iran happy. The new police force num­bers 1,500 men, said Abdul-Kadir.
The interim gov­ern­ment — which as yet has no expi­ra­tion date — will be made up of a 21-member com­mit­tee, with four mem­bers of each eth­nic group: Kurds, Arabs, Turkomen and Assyr­i­ans, said Sadi Ahmed Pire, who is with the PUK inter­na­tional rela­tions office and the chief PUK rep­re­sen­ta­tive in Arbil. The last mem­ber will be Brig. Gen­eral James Parker, com­man­der of the north­ern forces. (*CORRECTION:* I incor­rectly reported his name ear­lier. I apol­o­gize for the late cor­rec­tion.) The com­mit­tee will advise Adbul-Kadir as he nav­i­gates the eth­nic mine­fields of the region and attempts to answer ques­tions such as what will hap­pen to the Arab fam­i­lies who were moved, often against their will, into the homes of expelled Kurds? What hap­pens if the Turks move in? Where will the Kur­dish refugees, which some esti­mates put near 300,000, go?
These ques­tions are as yet unanswered.

Concerning the Turkomen

ARBIL, Iraqi Kur­dis­tan — Inter­views with fig­ures of author­ity (FOA) in this region fol­low a pretty stan­dard pat­tern. You greet them, shake their hands and then you sit down. Then you explain what you’d like to talk about. What fol­lows is a 15 – 20 minute state­ment by the FOA bro­ken up by the trans­la­tor who never works quite quickly enough for the statement-maker, so only about every other block of speech is fully trans­lated.
After this state­ment, which is orga­nized like a col­lege term paper with points and sub-points and full of ver­bal sub­head­ings like, “Con­cern­ing the Turkomen’s posi­tion in Kirkuk.…”, then I can ask ques­tions. Inter­rup­tions or ques­tions are not tol­er­ated in the open­ing state­ment (“let me fin­ish, please,” the FOA says when I attempt to get in a ques­tion.)
This hap­pens every time, and yesterday’s chat with Kanan Shakir Uzeyrag Ali, the head of the Turkomen Inde­pen­dent Move­ment, one of the three par­ties mak­ing up the Iraqi Turkomen Front, was no excep­tion. The pres­i­dent of the Front, Sanan Ahmet Aga, was unavail­able, despite my 11 a.m. appoint­ment.
“Our God, Allah, can do things in sec­onds, but he chose to cre­ate the world in six days,” said Salim Otrakchi, a polit­i­cal advi­sor to Aga. “If you have to wait a few hours to see the pres­i­dent, you must be patient.“
Well, I got Ali instead, which was just as well, as he was the Turkomen rep­re­sen­ta­tive at the Kirkuk meet­ing on Fri­day that also included U.S. Gen. Baker and rep­re­sen­ta­tives from the PUK and KDP. The topic was the gov­ern­ing of Kirkuk, which Ali said was a Turkomen city.
Sort­ing out the com­pet­ing claims on Kirkuk and other cities in Iraq is dif­fi­cult. There hasn’t been an offi­cial Iraqi cen­sus since 1957 and pop­u­la­tion num­bers have been manip­u­lated over the years to suit the Ba’athish regime’s pur­poses. Also, Kirkuk has been heav­ily Ara­bized, with Turkomen and Kurds expelled from the city and sur­round­ing vil­lages to make way for Arabs from the south. Because of such forced demo­graphic changes and the age of the city, at the moment, no one can say — hon­estly — who has a greater his­tor­i­cal claim on the city. How far back should the claims go? The only thing that is sure, con­cern­ing Kirkuk, is that its oil fields and refiner­ies would be a plum to whichever eth­nic group — Arabs, Kurds or Turkomen — that con­trolled it.
Throw­ing more gaso­line on this oil fire is the threat of the Turks to invade if the Kurds do any­thing to alter the char­ac­ter­is­tics of the pop­u­la­tion of Kirkuk. That means if the Kurds allow the tens of thou­sands of fam­i­lies Ara­bized out of their homes since the 1920s — and the Anfal cam­paign of 1987 – 88 in par­tic­u­lar — to return, Turkey will see that as the cross­ing of a red line and send in its approx­i­mately 15,000 troops massed on the bor­der to the north.
None of this mat­ters to Ali, who por­trays the Turkomen as an oppressed minor­ity in the Kur­dish area of Iraq, who can depend on no one but their Turk­ish broth­ers to the north.
Ali said the Turkomen felt betrayed by the United States when the PUK pesh­mer­gas flowed into the city on Thurs­day, lib­er­at­ing it from Sad­dam with lit­tle blood­shed. Before order was more or less restored by a com­bined Kur­dish and Amer­i­can pres­ence, there was wide­spread loot­ing. Noth­ing like the sav­agery in Mosul, mind you, which hap­pened because the main pesh­merga forces were kept out of that city and the U.S. mil­i­tary felt secur­ing the oil fields was more impor­tant than fill­ing the power vac­uum left by the Iraqi V Corps’ van­ish­ing act. There’s a grow­ing sense of resent­ment among all eth­nic par­ties toward the U.S. because of this fail­ure to pro­vide basic secu­rity in the wake of Saddam’s ouster.
But back to Kirkuk, Ali told me that Turkomen had been tar­geted for crimes and human rights vio­la­tions.
“We have 200 doc­u­ments that show Turkomen peo­ple were robbed,” he said. “The peo­ple who have suf­fered the most are the Turkomen. Any time there is some sit­u­a­tion, the vic­tim was Turkomen.“
I asked him how this com­pared to rob­bery reports by Kurds or Arabs or even Assyr­i­ans. He said he had no idea, as they went to their own peo­ple. How do you know there weren’t 500 rob­beries of Kur­dish peo­ple or 1,000 assaults on Assyr­i­ans, I asked. Is the vio­lence against the Turkomen tar­geted or are they just get­ting caught up in the gen­eral chaos? “This point is clear,” he added. “The Turkomen are not armed peo­ple. And the peo­ple steal­ing from them are armed peo­ple.“
This claim of Turkomen paci­fism is, frankly, hard to believe. Prac­ti­cally every man in this coun­try owns some kind of firearm. Most men in the ITF office where I inter­viewed Ali car­ried a sidearm or a Kalish­nikov.
Ali said the meet­ing Thurs­day was pro­duc­tive in that Gen. Baker asked the Turkomen to take part in the secu­rity of the city, but he said the Turkomen, who have an aver­sion to guns, remem­ber, would not be able to help until secu­rity was guar­an­teed by — surprise! — the Turks.
“Our peo­ple are sit­ting in their homes and they are hav­ing their fam­i­lies taken cap­tive and their fur­ni­ture taken,” he said. “How can he be a sol­dier? We are ready to help, but other mil­i­tary peo­ple are com­ing to cap­ture us. We don’t know who they are.“
Hm. Anony­mous thugs tak­ing advan­tage of the chaos and ter­ror­iz­ing fam­i­lies I would buy. The impli­ca­tion that this is the Kurds’ fault or that Kurds them­selves are doing it is a lit­tle more prob­lem­atic. The trans­la­tor embell­ished her boss’ words with the the lovely detail that the thugs wore the green and yel­low rib­bons of the PUK and KDP, respec­tively, but Ali cor­rected her and said that wasn’t the case. So some Turkomen, at least, are will­ing to blame the Kurds.
The ITF demands these for­eign mili­tia and pesh­mer­gas removed from Kirkuk, Ali said, and it wants a shared admin­is­tra­tion of the city, includ­ing Turks, Kurds, Arabs and Assyr­i­ans. The idea, he said, is to have an admin­is­tra­tion based on pro­por­tional rep­re­sen­ta­tion in Kirkuk.
And here we come to the crux of the mat­ter. If the Turkomen can use the threat of Turk­ish inter­ven­tion to pres­sure the Kurds into pre­vent­ing the Kur­dish refugees — most of them cur­rently liv­ing in squalor in camps such as Bin­is­lawa out­side Arbil — from return­ing to their old homes, Turkomen num­bers won’t be diluted and their power in Kirkuk’s gov­ern­ment — and their share of the oil rev­enue — will be that much greater.
To accom­plish this, the Turkomen must claim oppres­sion at the hands of the Kurds in the Kur­dish enclave in the north.
“We have suf­fered under all peo­ple,” Ali said. “The Turkomen suf­fered under the KDP, polit­i­cally, secu­rity and cul­tur­ally.“
How so, I asked. In Iraqi Kur­dis­tan, the Turkomen have a news­pa­per, a radio sta­tion, a tele­vi­sion sta­tion (one of the biggest build­ings in town with a huge satel­lite dish on the top) their own schools, the right to speak their lan­guage, three polit­i­cal par­ties and rep­re­sen­ta­tion in the Kur­dis­tan Regional Government’s par­lia­ment. The Turkomen in Iraqi Kur­dis­tan have more cul­tural and polit­i­cal rights than the Kurds do in Turkey. What more do you want, I asked.
“These rights are the orig­i­nal rights of all peo­ple,” he said. “They are given from God. Other peo­ple don’t grant these rights. Arabs and Kurds have not power to grant these rights. We get these rights from our activ­i­ties. A con­sti­tu­tion would be help­ful.“
I asked for spe­cific exam­ples of how their rights have been vio­lated. The ITF has not been rec­og­nized, Ali said, and isn’t offi­cial. (But the three Turkomen par­ties that make up the ITF each have par­lia­men­tary rep­re­sen­ta­tion.) Their reporters for the var­i­ous media can’t leave the build­ing and inter­view peo­ple on the street (Not true, I’ve watched Turkomen TV and they go out and inter­view peo­ple.) The Kur­dish gov­ern­ment offi­cials won’t talk to their reporters (Well, some­times they won’t talk to me; that’s the breaks.)
Their chief of secu­rity, Amir Azad, was arrested two months ago, Ali said, and they only now were able to send him a lawyer. “We are ready to give you a dossier about it,” he said.
“Great!” I said. “I’d like to see it.“
Then some dis­cus­sion in Turkomen fol­lowed. “Oh, we have filed it with Kofi Anan at the United Nations. You can read it there.“
And then, after list­ing this litany of wrongs done to the Turkomen, Ali reversed him­self.
“But we want to for­get all and start a new page,” he said. “We don’t want to speak of past times.“
As a rep­re­sen­ta­tive of a peo­ple who have allegedly suf­fered so much from the Kurds, Ali seemed awfully quick to put all these years behind them. His stated desire to move on rep­re­sents either a saint-like abil­ity to for­give, or a recog­ni­tion that Turkomen claims are exag­ger­ated.
PS: While I was typ­ing this, it appears Tikrit has fallen with­out a fight. We’re head­ing there now.

Politics as an extension of warfare

ARBIL, Iraqi Kur­dis­tan — Now that the war seems to be wind­ing down, the long knives of eth­nic pol­i­tics are com­ing out. Glad to see no one is wast­ing any time!
In Kirkuk today, rep­re­sen­ta­tives from the Patri­otic Union of Kur­dis­tan, the Kur­dis­tan Demo­c­ra­tic Party, the Iraqi Turkomen Front and the Amer­i­cans are meet­ing to thrash out how the city and the region will be gov­erned once the PUK com­pletes the pull­out of its pesh­mer­gas from the city. Units from the Amer­i­can 173rd Air­borne will be tak­ing over to pro­vide order and dis­cour­age the kind of loot­ing tak­ing place in Mosul today.
The loot­ing in Mosul seemed much worse than what hap­pened yes­ter­day in Kirkuk. I bumped into Philip Robert­son, of Salon​.com, who asked me if the Amer­i­cans were mov­ing into Mosul. I said I didn’t know.
“Well, they bet­ter get there fast before they start shoot­ing each other,” he said.
The issue of secu­rity is a tricky one, as Turkey is using the issue of the safety of the Turkomen minor­ity in each city to jus­tify a mil­i­tary inter­ven­tion in north­ern Iraq. So far, the Turks’ response has been to send some “mil­i­tary observers” — basically a bunch of offi­cers, near as I can tell — to Kirkuk, but they have thou­sands of heav­ily armed troops perched north of the bor­der and just inside Iraq ready to swoop south. To the Kurds, this is just more of the Turks being the Turks.
“This is not the first time they have done this,” said Anawar Omer, 32, a laborer I spoke with in Arbil’s Shekhul­lah dis­trict, one of the major mar­ket areas. “They are the ene­mies of the Kurds and they want us to be noth­ing. Kirkuk is Kur­dis­tan. It belongs to Kurds and it will always be that way.“
“We will kill the Turks if they come inside,” added Mahdi Kasab, a 30-year-old butcher stand­ing nearby. “Each of us will kill six Turks if they come here.“
But the bel­li­cos­ity of the Kur­dish masses aside, the pol­i­tics are as dan­ger­ous as any of the hun­dreds of mine­fields dot­ting the region.
“Kirkuk is del­i­cate,” said Sadi Ahmed Pire, with the PUK inter­na­tional rela­tions office and chief PUK rep­re­sen­ta­tive in Arbil. “We have to be care­ful not to make any mis­takes.“
Which brings us back to this meet­ing, which I’m sure is a big headache for the Amer­i­cans try­ing to bring this region to heel. The agenda is to bring order to Kirkuk — set­ting up traf­fic police, a tem­po­rary mayor, cur­fews — with­out com­pro­mis­ing anyone’s “inter­ests.“
But “everyone’s” inter­ests seem too con­tra­dic­tory to be rec­on­ciled. The Kurds claim Kirkuk as theirs, both for his­tor­i­cal rea­sons — the valid­ity of which I’m not even going to try to untan­gle — and eco­nomic rea­sons. The Kirkuk oil fields are some of the rich­est in Iraq, and if the Kurds were able to exploit them, their 12-year-old exper­i­ment in self-government in the north would start to look a whole lot more viable as an inde­pen­dent state.
The Turks, how­ever, see this as a direct threat to their secu­rity, both because the Kur­dish Work­ers’ Party (PKK) used north­ern Iraq as a base dur­ing its 15-year war with Turkey that left more than 30,000 civil­ians dead, and because Turkey fears an uppity Iraqi Kur­dis­tan would encour­age its own 12 mil­lion or so Kurds to rebel.
“We are con­cerned about the Turk­ish posi­tion,” said Pire. “They have no right to have a doubt about the future of the area. I can­not explain why they have sus­pi­cions about a free life for the Iraqi peo­ple.“
And the Turkomen? What’s their angle? The Iraqi Turkomen Front and its pres­i­dent, Sanan Ahmet Aga, say they just want equal rights for their peo­ple, secu­rity and a seat at the polit­i­cal table. And the best way to get that, they feel, is to appeal to their eth­nic broth­ers the Turks to cud­gel the Kurds. This way, they can grab more polit­i­cal power than their num­bers would nor­mally allow. (Pop­u­la­tion num­bers are pretty fuzzy, con­sid­er­ing the last offi­cial Iraqi cen­sus was in 1957 and the Ba’athist regime rou­tinely used fuzzy math for its own polit­i­cal agenda — hm — but I’ve heard esti­mates of the Turkomen pop­u­la­tion that range between 2 per­cent and 12 per­cent of Iraq’s pop­u­la­tion — 500,000 to 3 mil­lion peo­ple.)
Like­wise, the Turks can use the image of the oppressed Turkomen, cow­er­ing behind their doors in the face of mor­tal threat from bar­baric pesh­mer­gas and in need of Turk­ish pro­tec­tion, as a rea­son for them to main­tain a mil­i­tary pres­ence in Iraqi Kur­dis­tan.
The Kurds, of course, are hav­ing none of that. “Turkey is a regional power and they have inter­ests and they are mis­us­ing the issue [of the Turkomen] to express their inter­ests,” said Pire. “The Turks speak of the Turkomen. But what hap­pened to the Turkomen in Kirkuk? They weren’t tar­geted.“
As near as I could observe, Pire’s right on this one. The loot­ing I wit­nessed yes­ter­day in Kirkuk was pretty equal-opportunity. Homes weren’t being looted; gov­ern­ment build­ings and shop­ping cen­ters were. A cou­ple of times I saw a kids car­ry­ing tables or other office fur­ni­ture while sport­ing the crescent-moon-and-stars-on-blue flag of the Iraqi Turkomen Front. They didn’t look too wor­ried about their safety.
“Turkey,” he said, “is poi­son­ing the atmos­phere with their behav­ior.“
But to hear the Turkomen talk, per­ils lurk every­where for them.
“We are in dan­ger from the pesh­mer­gas,” said Salim Otrakchi, a polit­i­cal advi­sor to Iraqi Turkomen Front pres­i­dent Aga. “Al Jazeera and Ara­bia TV show them tak­ing all the money from the bank in Mosul.“
The ITF wants the Turks to come in, for rea­sons detailed above, but wor­ries that a small con­tin­gent of Turk­ish offi­cers won’t be enough.
“We are for any admin­is­tra­tion that keeps peo­ple safe,” said Otrakchi. “But if the Amer­i­cans can’t do it, let another power do it. The Amer­i­cans are not pre­pared for this kind of work.“
He said the Turkomen were espe­cially wor­ried about Kirkuk because the PUK had promised it would not go into the city with its forces and it did any­way.
At this point, it’s prob­a­bly a good idea just to tell you that I don’t believe what any­one is telling me at face value. The Kurds, deep in their hearts, really do want an inde­pen­dent Kur­dis­tan and this talk of fed­er­al­ism is the prac­ti­cal side of Kur­dish nation­al­ism. If they thought they could get away with it, they would bolt Iraq and never look back, I think. The Turkomen don’t really feel that threat­ened, but they see the Kurds with their new bud­dies, the Amer­i­cans, and worry they’ll be left out of any set­tle­ment and devel­op­ment plans in the north. So, they’re try­ing to play the Turks off the Amer­i­cans to keep the Kurds in check. And the Turks … Well, actu­ally, I believe them when they say they’re wor­ried about their secu­rity. They’re a truly para­noid bunch.
I asked Otrakchi if the rea­son for Turkomen fears in Kirkuk and Mosul was the Kurds or the gen­eral dis­or­der. Were Turkomen being tar­geted by any­one? Why were they deserv­ing of spe­cial pro­tec­tion?
“Our peo­ple fear the power groups,” he said. “And the pesh­mer­gas have the power. No other group has power. This power is not being used to keep peo­ple secure.“
I said I saw many Kurds and Turkomen together in the park in Kirkuk pulling down the statue. And that I didn’t think pesh­mer­gas were actu­ally in Mosul, that reports have said they stopped just out­side the city while the Iraqi defend­ers melted away. It was the lack of pesh­mer­gas — or any other author­ity — that led to the loot­ing in Mosul turn­ing sav­age, if the pic­tures are to be believed. Again, aren’t the Kurds just as threat­ened by dis­or­der and riots as Turkomen?
He asked me to make an appoint­ment and talk to his pres­i­dent on Sat­ur­day morn­ing. So I did. Maybe then I’ll get a straight answer.