Thursday, October 20, 2005
Scenes From a Meltdown
By DAVID BROOKS
"This country is in one heck of a mess."
If there is a single sentiment members of Congress heard while back in their districts this month, that was it.
In the past few days I've been speaking with Republicans and Democrats on Capitol Hill (mostly Republicans) about the mood back home. I've learned that it's one thing to read in the paper that two-thirds of Americans think the country is headed in the wrong direction. It's an altogether more bracing experience to go to town meetings and church and the supermarket and find this sentiment blasting you in the face.
The most interesting tales came from Republicans elected from districts President Bush carried by fewer than 10 points. Those districts were once moderately supportive of the president, but now, as one member of Congress said, the anger at Bush is so deep it's almost indescribable.
It's a generalized feeling of betrayal. At town meetings, big subjects like Iraq and the deficits barely come up. But there is a sense that this guy Bush promised to make us feel safe, and it's clear from the Katrina fiasco and everything else that we are not safe.
For Republicans from vulnerable districts in the Northeast and Midwest, the president has become, as another member put it, radioactive. These Republicans return from districts where they are being called upon to give back the money Tom DeLay raised for them, and go back to a Washington where G.O.P. indictments, and hence trials, promise to stretch on for years.
And yet Republicans are not panicked. They know that if the election were held today, their base would stay home, but they look over at the Democrats and say: Thank God for Nancy Pelosi. Thank God for Howard Dean. They see that Dean refers to his base as "merlot Democrats," and it confirms their suspicion that the opposition party is really run by imbeciles.
The odd thing is that the Democrats, who have the self-assurance of a beaten dog, feel this way about themselves. Most sense, in their heart of hearts, that they are the Palestinians of American politics: they'll never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity. The most common word I hear from Democratic partisans to describe their own party is "pathetic."
Indeed, when you look at the graphs showing both parties' approval ratings, it's like looking at a pair of expert-only ski slopes. A Pew Research Center poll showed the parties' approval ratings plummeting to around 32 percent - below their own bases.
So politicians are not panicked, but they are mobilized. They have just a few months to redefine themselves and avoid catastrophe. Over the next weeks, we are going to see an ideas race, as both parties hustle to get out new, positive agendas.
On the Democratic side, the party leadership is in control. To nationalize the election, Democrats are about to roll out a big agenda. Unfortunately, their big idea consists of Spending for Everything and a Return to Fiscal Restraint. The Democrats are promising universal health insurance, college for all, a Manhattan Project on energy and an end to runaway spending. This is using Teddy Kennedy means to achieve Robert Rubin ends. In a country disillusioned with parties, it's going to be a tough sell.
On the G.O.P. side, this is a moment of Republican glasnost. After years of following the leaders, Republicans are suddenly rebelling and innovating on all fronts. Conservatives like Mike Pence and moderates like Mark Kirk are joining forces to battle the old DeLay institutionalists to actually cut spending, including cuts in defense and veterans affairs. Orthodox conservatives are meeting with the renegade John McCain. Members from marginal districts are putting together agendas that will distance them from the dominant G.O.P. voices from the South and West.
The Republicans are going to end up localizing the election. Listening to constituents, these Republicans sense that people are exhausted by big visions and grand dreams. They want small, achievable ideas. The best ones I heard were from members who wanted to promote open-space initiatives and suburban livability, members who wanted to reduce medical paperwork. This is politics on the alderman level, but it's probably right for the moment.
Congress is polarized, but this isn't an ideological moment, liberal or conservative. It's a moment when voters want to know someone is running the country, that there's someone to project authority and take responsibility, to establish international and domestic order, so they can get on with their lives.
By DAVID BROOKS
"This country is in one heck of a mess."
If there is a single sentiment members of Congress heard while back in their districts this month, that was it.
In the past few days I've been speaking with Republicans and Democrats on Capitol Hill (mostly Republicans) about the mood back home. I've learned that it's one thing to read in the paper that two-thirds of Americans think the country is headed in the wrong direction. It's an altogether more bracing experience to go to town meetings and church and the supermarket and find this sentiment blasting you in the face.
The most interesting tales came from Republicans elected from districts President Bush carried by fewer than 10 points. Those districts were once moderately supportive of the president, but now, as one member of Congress said, the anger at Bush is so deep it's almost indescribable.
It's a generalized feeling of betrayal. At town meetings, big subjects like Iraq and the deficits barely come up. But there is a sense that this guy Bush promised to make us feel safe, and it's clear from the Katrina fiasco and everything else that we are not safe.
For Republicans from vulnerable districts in the Northeast and Midwest, the president has become, as another member put it, radioactive. These Republicans return from districts where they are being called upon to give back the money Tom DeLay raised for them, and go back to a Washington where G.O.P. indictments, and hence trials, promise to stretch on for years.
And yet Republicans are not panicked. They know that if the election were held today, their base would stay home, but they look over at the Democrats and say: Thank God for Nancy Pelosi. Thank God for Howard Dean. They see that Dean refers to his base as "merlot Democrats," and it confirms their suspicion that the opposition party is really run by imbeciles.
The odd thing is that the Democrats, who have the self-assurance of a beaten dog, feel this way about themselves. Most sense, in their heart of hearts, that they are the Palestinians of American politics: they'll never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity. The most common word I hear from Democratic partisans to describe their own party is "pathetic."
Indeed, when you look at the graphs showing both parties' approval ratings, it's like looking at a pair of expert-only ski slopes. A Pew Research Center poll showed the parties' approval ratings plummeting to around 32 percent - below their own bases.
So politicians are not panicked, but they are mobilized. They have just a few months to redefine themselves and avoid catastrophe. Over the next weeks, we are going to see an ideas race, as both parties hustle to get out new, positive agendas.
On the Democratic side, the party leadership is in control. To nationalize the election, Democrats are about to roll out a big agenda. Unfortunately, their big idea consists of Spending for Everything and a Return to Fiscal Restraint. The Democrats are promising universal health insurance, college for all, a Manhattan Project on energy and an end to runaway spending. This is using Teddy Kennedy means to achieve Robert Rubin ends. In a country disillusioned with parties, it's going to be a tough sell.
On the G.O.P. side, this is a moment of Republican glasnost. After years of following the leaders, Republicans are suddenly rebelling and innovating on all fronts. Conservatives like Mike Pence and moderates like Mark Kirk are joining forces to battle the old DeLay institutionalists to actually cut spending, including cuts in defense and veterans affairs. Orthodox conservatives are meeting with the renegade John McCain. Members from marginal districts are putting together agendas that will distance them from the dominant G.O.P. voices from the South and West.
The Republicans are going to end up localizing the election. Listening to constituents, these Republicans sense that people are exhausted by big visions and grand dreams. They want small, achievable ideas. The best ones I heard were from members who wanted to promote open-space initiatives and suburban livability, members who wanted to reduce medical paperwork. This is politics on the alderman level, but it's probably right for the moment.
Congress is polarized, but this isn't an ideological moment, liberal or conservative. It's a moment when voters want to know someone is running the country, that there's someone to project authority and take responsibility, to establish international and domestic order, so they can get on with their lives.
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
In Memory of Those Whose Killer Was Put on Trial Today:
IRAQ THE MODEL
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
"War and Peace"
Whenever I tried to forget all about the past and focus on the future, I hear a story that brings the past right in front of my eyes. What happened was so brutal and hard to forget.We should make the world realize that, not to gain some pity or compassion, but to make sure that it will not happen again anywhere in the world.I can't keep the story in my heart, for I can't bear the pain all by myself and I wish the whole world could share it with me.This story is dedicated to all those who oppose what's happening in Iraq, that's to say; the Arab and Muslim world and the (peace activists) in the hope that it will make them pause for a while and reconsider their (noble stand).This is one example that may help them imagine the (peace) we lived in.I met him in a photo copy office owned by a friend. My friend introduced him to me, his name is Firas Mahmood Ya'koob, a junior resident in Al-Karkh hospital for surgery in Baghdad, a shy young man, holding some photos of men, women, and children. He wanted to make copies of them soI knew there was a story behind them. I couldn't help asking him about it, he said "I’m from Al-Dujaile". I understood what he meant.In Saddam's time we used to whisper about Al-Dujaile, we all knew that a massacre happened there, but we didn't dare to ask about the details and I never met any one from there. Now I can know all about it from my new friend and here it is, in his own words:-"Al-Dujaile is my home town, I always looked at it as god's heaven on earth, it's about 60 kilometers to the north of Baghdad, on the bank of al Ishaki river (a branch of Tigris), inhabited by few thousands, most of whom are farmers, our village is well known by its date palms and grapes, a fascinating nature that takes your breath away, its people are related by strong tribal relations that keep them as one large family.- Date: 7/8/1982, Saddam decides to visit the village, the Ba’ath party in the region prepared the people to make a big reception, they took us out of the schools(I was 7 years old). They made us line in a row on both sides of the road to wave for him and cheer his name. It never occurred to me that it would be my last day in the childhood world. I was forced to skip that period of my life with such cruelty that I can not explain.-17 of the finest young men in the village had decided to put an end to the tyrant's life at that day, they had the courage to face him, we didn't know about their intention.The brave men set an ambush among the palm trees, they couldn't tell which car was his, there were dozens of cars, all identical in model and color.-The attack starts, the brave young men open fire from their simple weapons, some of the body guards get killed, others wounded, the tyrant get panicked, imagine that (Saddam is afraid) the man who enjoyed terrorizing people lives a moment of fear with all its details, he was so close to death this time.8 of the attackers were killed, the rest fled out of the country.(Woe to the sinners) who dared to make him scared, you should fear his revenge, you should learn the lesson so that it won't happen again, you should bow more and more and fear more and more, you should be scared to death so that you don't dare even to think of harming him; the shadow of god on earth.-The answer was fast, one hour after the escape of the tyrant, we had to face his anger, I heard the sound of helicopters over our heads wreaking their vengeance upon our small village, backed later with shovels that leveled the trees with the ground, the order was clear(the terror should be great) so that the others would learn.I ran away to my home into my mothers' lap, my younger brother and sisters gathered around me, I realized something huge has happened and anticipated the eminent evil. it didn't take long for the security to get to our house, we were taken to the unknown, me, my mother(who was 4 months pregnant), my sisters Einas(5 years), Zeina(3 years)and my brother Mohammed(1 year).-The first station in our long journey was Al-Hakimiyah prison that belongs to the intelligence, I found hundreds of my village people, old, young, men, women and children, we were 480 there. Out of whom 80 were relatives of mine.It was enough to say the word Hakimiyah for any Iraqi to be completely paralyzed(the one who gets in is a missing-the one who gets out is reborn-this was what we used to say about this prison, the walls of which tell thousands of horror stories that you refuse to believe.I was too young to know why we were treated like that, but I sure knew the meaning of being scared to death. The sound of foot steps that stops by the door was enough for every one to freeze, as after that the door would be opened, a name of one of the men would be announced and he would be dragged to the interrogation room to return few hours later unconscious, covered by blood, wrapped in a blanket, and would be thrown on us.The women and children had their share, and this is what saw: extraction of nails and teeth, electric shocks, whipping with lashes, using razors to tear the skin into shreds, my aunt was left hanging from the roof after her clothes had been wrapped of her in front of her brothers to force them to talk. Do you know how much pain we suffered? Can you imagine? I doubt it.We stayed at Al-Hakimiyah for one month, the space was too small for all of us to sleep, some of us had to stay on their feet so that the others could sleep.-After that we were transferred to Abu-Ghraib prison, where we met the men for the last time, after that, the 143 men separated from us and then transferred to another place, as for the rest of us, we were kept in Abu-Ghraib prison for six months, during that time, the day for my mother to deliver her baby came, she had complications and they didn't take her to the hospital until it was too late, the baby died. my mother never if it was a boy or a girl.In the prison, 4 people died, my grandfather(Yousif Ya'koob), my uncles wife(Noofa Hasan), the old man(Abdul Wahab Ja'far) and his wife (Sabreya), after that we were transferred to a camp in the desert, near the Iraqi-Saudi borders, 400 kilometers south-west to Baghdad(Leeah camp).We spent four years there.Four years in hell, we were isolated from the world, all we could do is stay alive and pray for the men whom their destiny was unknown to us.We were released in 1986, only for another journey of pain and suffering. We had to start a new life as all our properties were confiscated and we still don’t know anything about the men.The other good people in our village helped us, offered us jobs in their lands and a place to stay in. I had to work -with my little brother and sisters- to earn our living and to continue with our study. Farming is too hard a job for children of our age, but we had already passed that stage.It’s hard to explain what life is when you're a suspect with the eyes of security agents following you, stifling your breath, making your life even harder and harder, we had to give them all the pennies we could save to get some information about the missing ones, and they always promised us good news, and that our beloved ones were alive and being treated well. we didn't believe that, but what is life without hope!?-Sixteen years later...October/2002. I finished medical school and started to practice my job as a doctor in Baghdad. The same year, Saddam suffers a hard time, the USA and the allies tighten the circle around him, he decides to set all prisoners free, including the political. That was what he said, the fact; he released only the murderers and the thieves.Our cries lost their way trying to find our relatives among the thousands of faces, each time they reassure us that there would be another group to be released the next day, but all our efforts were in vain, we had no one but god to pray to and seek his help to show us the way.Date: 4/9/2003, I can’t believe it, the tyrant falls, is it a dream?Does it mean no more fear, no more terror, and no more death? We jumped into the streets wreaking our vengeance on his pictures and statues that surrounded the village he raped in a dark night.The towns and villages expelled him and expelled his name……..WE WERE SAVED.I took a deep breath, the air had the scent of freedom, nothing can be more beautiful, it’s difficult to describe, but we were overwhelmed by happiness, with only one distress: where had our beloved ones gone? We started to search the security departments in Baghdad,- like thousands of Iraqis- looking for a trace, I didn’t take a long time, we found what we were looking for. The documents of the crime, I read with tears in my eyes; the presidency order dated: 7 /23 /1985, signed by the tyrant, ordering the execution of 143 men from Al-Dujaile, the youngest one (Najeeb Abd Kadim) 11 years old. Among these, 35 were relatives of mine.God bless your souls martyrs, may you have peace in heaven, if it wasn’t your courage and blood we wouldn’t be proud.This is the story behind these photos, my friend. It’s time they have a decent funeral. We haven’t found their remains yet, but they will always remain in our hearts”My friend surprised me saying” we don’t regret what happened, and yesterday, when the nine remaining heroes returned to Iraq, we met them with flowers, as the heroes of all the Iraqis, and we will never blame them, as they’re the ones who kept our chins up”This is what peace looked like in Iraq at Saddam’s time.The battle is not over yet, the evil and cruel criminals are every where, and they will not rest until they kidnap our dreams, but this time we’re stronger, as we are not alone. The whole good and brave people on earth took it upon themselves to fight with us, we hate wars and all the bloodshed that comes with them, but we have no other choice.Let us all dream of a world of love and real peace.N.B. All the copies of the documents could be found with Dr. Firas M. Yaqub
Posted by Omar @ 19:26
IRAQ THE MODEL
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
"War and Peace"
Whenever I tried to forget all about the past and focus on the future, I hear a story that brings the past right in front of my eyes. What happened was so brutal and hard to forget.We should make the world realize that, not to gain some pity or compassion, but to make sure that it will not happen again anywhere in the world.I can't keep the story in my heart, for I can't bear the pain all by myself and I wish the whole world could share it with me.This story is dedicated to all those who oppose what's happening in Iraq, that's to say; the Arab and Muslim world and the (peace activists) in the hope that it will make them pause for a while and reconsider their (noble stand).This is one example that may help them imagine the (peace) we lived in.I met him in a photo copy office owned by a friend. My friend introduced him to me, his name is Firas Mahmood Ya'koob, a junior resident in Al-Karkh hospital for surgery in Baghdad, a shy young man, holding some photos of men, women, and children. He wanted to make copies of them soI knew there was a story behind them. I couldn't help asking him about it, he said "I’m from Al-Dujaile". I understood what he meant.In Saddam's time we used to whisper about Al-Dujaile, we all knew that a massacre happened there, but we didn't dare to ask about the details and I never met any one from there. Now I can know all about it from my new friend and here it is, in his own words:-"Al-Dujaile is my home town, I always looked at it as god's heaven on earth, it's about 60 kilometers to the north of Baghdad, on the bank of al Ishaki river (a branch of Tigris), inhabited by few thousands, most of whom are farmers, our village is well known by its date palms and grapes, a fascinating nature that takes your breath away, its people are related by strong tribal relations that keep them as one large family.- Date: 7/8/1982, Saddam decides to visit the village, the Ba’ath party in the region prepared the people to make a big reception, they took us out of the schools(I was 7 years old). They made us line in a row on both sides of the road to wave for him and cheer his name. It never occurred to me that it would be my last day in the childhood world. I was forced to skip that period of my life with such cruelty that I can not explain.-17 of the finest young men in the village had decided to put an end to the tyrant's life at that day, they had the courage to face him, we didn't know about their intention.The brave men set an ambush among the palm trees, they couldn't tell which car was his, there were dozens of cars, all identical in model and color.-The attack starts, the brave young men open fire from their simple weapons, some of the body guards get killed, others wounded, the tyrant get panicked, imagine that (Saddam is afraid) the man who enjoyed terrorizing people lives a moment of fear with all its details, he was so close to death this time.8 of the attackers were killed, the rest fled out of the country.(Woe to the sinners) who dared to make him scared, you should fear his revenge, you should learn the lesson so that it won't happen again, you should bow more and more and fear more and more, you should be scared to death so that you don't dare even to think of harming him; the shadow of god on earth.-The answer was fast, one hour after the escape of the tyrant, we had to face his anger, I heard the sound of helicopters over our heads wreaking their vengeance upon our small village, backed later with shovels that leveled the trees with the ground, the order was clear(the terror should be great) so that the others would learn.I ran away to my home into my mothers' lap, my younger brother and sisters gathered around me, I realized something huge has happened and anticipated the eminent evil. it didn't take long for the security to get to our house, we were taken to the unknown, me, my mother(who was 4 months pregnant), my sisters Einas(5 years), Zeina(3 years)and my brother Mohammed(1 year).-The first station in our long journey was Al-Hakimiyah prison that belongs to the intelligence, I found hundreds of my village people, old, young, men, women and children, we were 480 there. Out of whom 80 were relatives of mine.It was enough to say the word Hakimiyah for any Iraqi to be completely paralyzed(the one who gets in is a missing-the one who gets out is reborn-this was what we used to say about this prison, the walls of which tell thousands of horror stories that you refuse to believe.I was too young to know why we were treated like that, but I sure knew the meaning of being scared to death. The sound of foot steps that stops by the door was enough for every one to freeze, as after that the door would be opened, a name of one of the men would be announced and he would be dragged to the interrogation room to return few hours later unconscious, covered by blood, wrapped in a blanket, and would be thrown on us.The women and children had their share, and this is what saw: extraction of nails and teeth, electric shocks, whipping with lashes, using razors to tear the skin into shreds, my aunt was left hanging from the roof after her clothes had been wrapped of her in front of her brothers to force them to talk. Do you know how much pain we suffered? Can you imagine? I doubt it.We stayed at Al-Hakimiyah for one month, the space was too small for all of us to sleep, some of us had to stay on their feet so that the others could sleep.-After that we were transferred to Abu-Ghraib prison, where we met the men for the last time, after that, the 143 men separated from us and then transferred to another place, as for the rest of us, we were kept in Abu-Ghraib prison for six months, during that time, the day for my mother to deliver her baby came, she had complications and they didn't take her to the hospital until it was too late, the baby died. my mother never if it was a boy or a girl.In the prison, 4 people died, my grandfather(Yousif Ya'koob), my uncles wife(Noofa Hasan), the old man(Abdul Wahab Ja'far) and his wife (Sabreya), after that we were transferred to a camp in the desert, near the Iraqi-Saudi borders, 400 kilometers south-west to Baghdad(Leeah camp).We spent four years there.Four years in hell, we were isolated from the world, all we could do is stay alive and pray for the men whom their destiny was unknown to us.We were released in 1986, only for another journey of pain and suffering. We had to start a new life as all our properties were confiscated and we still don’t know anything about the men.The other good people in our village helped us, offered us jobs in their lands and a place to stay in. I had to work -with my little brother and sisters- to earn our living and to continue with our study. Farming is too hard a job for children of our age, but we had already passed that stage.It’s hard to explain what life is when you're a suspect with the eyes of security agents following you, stifling your breath, making your life even harder and harder, we had to give them all the pennies we could save to get some information about the missing ones, and they always promised us good news, and that our beloved ones were alive and being treated well. we didn't believe that, but what is life without hope!?-Sixteen years later...October/2002. I finished medical school and started to practice my job as a doctor in Baghdad. The same year, Saddam suffers a hard time, the USA and the allies tighten the circle around him, he decides to set all prisoners free, including the political. That was what he said, the fact; he released only the murderers and the thieves.Our cries lost their way trying to find our relatives among the thousands of faces, each time they reassure us that there would be another group to be released the next day, but all our efforts were in vain, we had no one but god to pray to and seek his help to show us the way.Date: 4/9/2003, I can’t believe it, the tyrant falls, is it a dream?Does it mean no more fear, no more terror, and no more death? We jumped into the streets wreaking our vengeance on his pictures and statues that surrounded the village he raped in a dark night.The towns and villages expelled him and expelled his name……..WE WERE SAVED.I took a deep breath, the air had the scent of freedom, nothing can be more beautiful, it’s difficult to describe, but we were overwhelmed by happiness, with only one distress: where had our beloved ones gone? We started to search the security departments in Baghdad,- like thousands of Iraqis- looking for a trace, I didn’t take a long time, we found what we were looking for. The documents of the crime, I read with tears in my eyes; the presidency order dated: 7 /23 /1985, signed by the tyrant, ordering the execution of 143 men from Al-Dujaile, the youngest one (Najeeb Abd Kadim) 11 years old. Among these, 35 were relatives of mine.God bless your souls martyrs, may you have peace in heaven, if it wasn’t your courage and blood we wouldn’t be proud.This is the story behind these photos, my friend. It’s time they have a decent funeral. We haven’t found their remains yet, but they will always remain in our hearts”My friend surprised me saying” we don’t regret what happened, and yesterday, when the nine remaining heroes returned to Iraq, we met them with flowers, as the heroes of all the Iraqis, and we will never blame them, as they’re the ones who kept our chins up”This is what peace looked like in Iraq at Saddam’s time.The battle is not over yet, the evil and cruel criminals are every where, and they will not rest until they kidnap our dreams, but this time we’re stronger, as we are not alone. The whole good and brave people on earth took it upon themselves to fight with us, we hate wars and all the bloodshed that comes with them, but we have no other choice.Let us all dream of a world of love and real peace.N.B. All the copies of the documents could be found with Dr. Firas M. Yaqub
Posted by Omar @ 19:26
In memory of those whose killer was put on trial today:
IRAQ THE MODEL
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
"War and Peace"
Whenever I tried to forget all about the past and focus on the future, I hear a story that brings the past right in front of my eyes. What happened was so brutal and hard to forget.We should make the world realize that, not to gain some pity or compassion, but to make sure that it will not happen again anywhere in the world.I can't keep the story in my heart, for I can't bear the pain all by myself and I wish the whole world could share it with me.This story is dedicated to all those who oppose what's happening in Iraq, that's to say; the Arab and Muslim world and the (peace activists) in the hope that it will make them pause for a while and reconsider their (noble stand).This is one example that may help them imagine the (peace) we lived in.I met him in a photo copy office owned by a friend. My friend introduced him to me, his name is Firas Mahmood Ya'koob, a junior resident in Al-Karkh hospital for surgery in Baghdad, a shy young man, holding some photos of men, women, and children. He wanted to make copies of them soI knew there was a story behind them. I couldn't help asking him about it, he said "I’m from Al-Dujaile". I understood what he meant.In Saddam's time we used to whisper about Al-Dujaile, we all knew that a massacre happened there, but we didn't dare to ask about the details and I never met any one from there. Now I can know all about it from my new friend and here it is, in his own words:-"Al-Dujaile is my home town, I always looked at it as god's heaven on earth, it's about 60 kilometers to the north of Baghdad, on the bank of al Ishaki river (a branch of Tigris), inhabited by few thousands, most of whom are farmers, our village is well known by its date palms and grapes, a fascinating nature that takes your breath away, its people are related by strong tribal relations that keep them as one large family.- Date: 7/8/1982, Saddam decides to visit the village, the Ba’ath party in the region prepared the people to make a big reception, they took us out of the schools(I was 7 years old). They made us line in a row on both sides of the road to wave for him and cheer his name. It never occurred to me that it would be my last day in the childhood world. I was forced to skip that period of my life with such cruelty that I can not explain.-17 of the finest young men in the village had decided to put an end to the tyrant's life at that day, they had the courage to face him, we didn't know about their intention.The brave men set an ambush among the palm trees, they couldn't tell which car was his, there were dozens of cars, all identical in model and color.-The attack starts, the brave young men open fire from their simple weapons, some of the body guards get killed, others wounded, the tyrant get panicked, imagine that (Saddam is afraid) the man who enjoyed terrorizing people lives a moment of fear with all its details, he was so close to death this time.8 of the attackers were killed, the rest fled out of the country.(Woe to the sinners) who dared to make him scared, you should fear his revenge, you should learn the lesson so that it won't happen again, you should bow more and more and fear more and more, you should be scared to death so that you don't dare even to think of harming him; the shadow of god on earth.-The answer was fast, one hour after the escape of the tyrant, we had to face his anger, I heard the sound of helicopters over our heads wreaking their vengeance upon our small village, backed later with shovels that leveled the trees with the ground, the order was clear(the terror should be great) so that the others would learn.I ran away to my home into my mothers' lap, my younger brother and sisters gathered around me, I realized something huge has happened and anticipated the eminent evil. it didn't take long for the security to get to our house, we were taken to the unknown, me, my mother(who was 4 months pregnant), my sisters Einas(5 years), Zeina(3 years)and my brother Mohammed(1 year).-The first station in our long journey was Al-Hakimiyah prison that belongs to the intelligence, I found hundreds of my village people, old, young, men, women and children, we were 480 there. Out of whom 80 were relatives of mine.It was enough to say the word Hakimiyah for any Iraqi to be completely paralyzed(the one who gets in is a missing-the one who gets out is reborn-this was what we used to say about this prison, the walls of which tell thousands of horror stories that you refuse to believe.I was too young to know why we were treated like that, but I sure knew the meaning of being scared to death. The sound of foot steps that stops by the door was enough for every one to freeze, as after that the door would be opened, a name of one of the men would be announced and he would be dragged to the interrogation room to return few hours later unconscious, covered by blood, wrapped in a blanket, and would be thrown on us.The women and children had their share, and this is what saw: extraction of nails and teeth, electric shocks, whipping with lashes, using razors to tear the skin into shreds, my aunt was left hanging from the roof after her clothes had been wrapped of her in front of her brothers to force them to talk. Do you know how much pain we suffered? Can you imagine? I doubt it.We stayed at Al-Hakimiyah for one month, the space was too small for all of us to sleep, some of us had to stay on their feet so that the others could sleep.-After that we were transferred to Abu-Ghraib prison, where we met the men for the last time, after that, the 143 men separated from us and then transferred to another place, as for the rest of us, we were kept in Abu-Ghraib prison for six months, during that time, the day for my mother to deliver her baby came, she had complications and they didn't take her to the hospital until it was too late, the baby died. my mother never if it was a boy or a girl.In the prison, 4 people died, my grandfather(Yousif Ya'koob), my uncles wife(Noofa Hasan), the old man(Abdul Wahab Ja'far) and his wife (Sabreya), after that we were transferred to a camp in the desert, near the Iraqi-Saudi borders, 400 kilometers south-west to Baghdad(Leeah camp).We spent four years there.Four years in hell, we were isolated from the world, all we could do is stay alive and pray for the men whom their destiny was unknown to us.We were released in 1986, only for another journey of pain and suffering. We had to start a new life as all our properties were confiscated and we still don’t know anything about the men.The other good people in our village helped us, offered us jobs in their lands and a place to stay in. I had to work -with my little brother and sisters- to earn our living and to continue with our study. Farming is too hard a job for children of our age, but we had already passed that stage.It’s hard to explain what life is when you're a suspect with the eyes of security agents following you, stifling your breath, making your life even harder and harder, we had to give them all the pennies we could save to get some information about the missing ones, and they always promised us good news, and that our beloved ones were alive and being treated well. we didn't believe that, but what is life without hope!?-Sixteen years later...October/2002. I finished medical school and started to practice my job as a doctor in Baghdad. The same year, Saddam suffers a hard time, the USA and the allies tighten the circle around him, he decides to set all prisoners free, including the political. That was what he said, the fact; he released only the murderers and the thieves.Our cries lost their way trying to find our relatives among the thousands of faces, each time they reassure us that there would be another group to be released the next day, but all our efforts were in vain, we had no one but god to pray to and seek his help to show us the way.Date: 4/9/2003, I can’t believe it, the tyrant falls, is it a dream?Does it mean no more fear, no more terror, and no more death? We jumped into the streets wreaking our vengeance on his pictures and statues that surrounded the village he raped in a dark night.The towns and villages expelled him and expelled his name……..WE WERE SAVED.I took a deep breath, the air had the scent of freedom, nothing can be more beautiful, it’s difficult to describe, but we were overwhelmed by happiness, with only one distress: where had our beloved ones gone? We started to search the security departments in Baghdad,- like thousands of Iraqis- looking for a trace, I didn’t take a long time, we found what we were looking for. The documents of the crime, I read with tears in my eyes; the presidency order dated: 7 /23 /1985, signed by the tyrant, ordering the execution of 143 men from Al-Dujaile, the youngest one (Najeeb Abd Kadim) 11 years old. Among these, 35 were relatives of mine.God bless your souls martyrs, may you have peace in heaven, if it wasn’t your courage and blood we wouldn’t be proud.This is the story behind these photos, my friend. It’s time they have a decent funeral. We haven’t found their remains yet, but they will always remain in our hearts”My friend surprised me saying” we don’t regret what happened, and yesterday, when the nine remaining heroes returned to Iraq, we met them with flowers, as the heroes of all the Iraqis, and we will never blame them, as they’re the ones who kept our chins up”This is what peace looked like in Iraq at Saddam’s time.The battle is not over yet, the evil and cruel criminals are every where, and they will not rest until they kidnap our dreams, but this time we’re stronger, as we are not alone. The whole good and brave people on earth took it upon themselves to fight with us, we hate wars and all the bloodshed that comes with them, but we have no other choice.Let us all dream of a world of love and real peace.N.B. All the copies of the documents could be found with Dr. Firas M. Yaqub
Posted by Omar @ 19:26
IRAQ THE MODEL
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
"War and Peace"
Whenever I tried to forget all about the past and focus on the future, I hear a story that brings the past right in front of my eyes. What happened was so brutal and hard to forget.We should make the world realize that, not to gain some pity or compassion, but to make sure that it will not happen again anywhere in the world.I can't keep the story in my heart, for I can't bear the pain all by myself and I wish the whole world could share it with me.This story is dedicated to all those who oppose what's happening in Iraq, that's to say; the Arab and Muslim world and the (peace activists) in the hope that it will make them pause for a while and reconsider their (noble stand).This is one example that may help them imagine the (peace) we lived in.I met him in a photo copy office owned by a friend. My friend introduced him to me, his name is Firas Mahmood Ya'koob, a junior resident in Al-Karkh hospital for surgery in Baghdad, a shy young man, holding some photos of men, women, and children. He wanted to make copies of them soI knew there was a story behind them. I couldn't help asking him about it, he said "I’m from Al-Dujaile". I understood what he meant.In Saddam's time we used to whisper about Al-Dujaile, we all knew that a massacre happened there, but we didn't dare to ask about the details and I never met any one from there. Now I can know all about it from my new friend and here it is, in his own words:-"Al-Dujaile is my home town, I always looked at it as god's heaven on earth, it's about 60 kilometers to the north of Baghdad, on the bank of al Ishaki river (a branch of Tigris), inhabited by few thousands, most of whom are farmers, our village is well known by its date palms and grapes, a fascinating nature that takes your breath away, its people are related by strong tribal relations that keep them as one large family.- Date: 7/8/1982, Saddam decides to visit the village, the Ba’ath party in the region prepared the people to make a big reception, they took us out of the schools(I was 7 years old). They made us line in a row on both sides of the road to wave for him and cheer his name. It never occurred to me that it would be my last day in the childhood world. I was forced to skip that period of my life with such cruelty that I can not explain.-17 of the finest young men in the village had decided to put an end to the tyrant's life at that day, they had the courage to face him, we didn't know about their intention.The brave men set an ambush among the palm trees, they couldn't tell which car was his, there were dozens of cars, all identical in model and color.-The attack starts, the brave young men open fire from their simple weapons, some of the body guards get killed, others wounded, the tyrant get panicked, imagine that (Saddam is afraid) the man who enjoyed terrorizing people lives a moment of fear with all its details, he was so close to death this time.8 of the attackers were killed, the rest fled out of the country.(Woe to the sinners) who dared to make him scared, you should fear his revenge, you should learn the lesson so that it won't happen again, you should bow more and more and fear more and more, you should be scared to death so that you don't dare even to think of harming him; the shadow of god on earth.-The answer was fast, one hour after the escape of the tyrant, we had to face his anger, I heard the sound of helicopters over our heads wreaking their vengeance upon our small village, backed later with shovels that leveled the trees with the ground, the order was clear(the terror should be great) so that the others would learn.I ran away to my home into my mothers' lap, my younger brother and sisters gathered around me, I realized something huge has happened and anticipated the eminent evil. it didn't take long for the security to get to our house, we were taken to the unknown, me, my mother(who was 4 months pregnant), my sisters Einas(5 years), Zeina(3 years)and my brother Mohammed(1 year).-The first station in our long journey was Al-Hakimiyah prison that belongs to the intelligence, I found hundreds of my village people, old, young, men, women and children, we were 480 there. Out of whom 80 were relatives of mine.It was enough to say the word Hakimiyah for any Iraqi to be completely paralyzed(the one who gets in is a missing-the one who gets out is reborn-this was what we used to say about this prison, the walls of which tell thousands of horror stories that you refuse to believe.I was too young to know why we were treated like that, but I sure knew the meaning of being scared to death. The sound of foot steps that stops by the door was enough for every one to freeze, as after that the door would be opened, a name of one of the men would be announced and he would be dragged to the interrogation room to return few hours later unconscious, covered by blood, wrapped in a blanket, and would be thrown on us.The women and children had their share, and this is what saw: extraction of nails and teeth, electric shocks, whipping with lashes, using razors to tear the skin into shreds, my aunt was left hanging from the roof after her clothes had been wrapped of her in front of her brothers to force them to talk. Do you know how much pain we suffered? Can you imagine? I doubt it.We stayed at Al-Hakimiyah for one month, the space was too small for all of us to sleep, some of us had to stay on their feet so that the others could sleep.-After that we were transferred to Abu-Ghraib prison, where we met the men for the last time, after that, the 143 men separated from us and then transferred to another place, as for the rest of us, we were kept in Abu-Ghraib prison for six months, during that time, the day for my mother to deliver her baby came, she had complications and they didn't take her to the hospital until it was too late, the baby died. my mother never if it was a boy or a girl.In the prison, 4 people died, my grandfather(Yousif Ya'koob), my uncles wife(Noofa Hasan), the old man(Abdul Wahab Ja'far) and his wife (Sabreya), after that we were transferred to a camp in the desert, near the Iraqi-Saudi borders, 400 kilometers south-west to Baghdad(Leeah camp).We spent four years there.Four years in hell, we were isolated from the world, all we could do is stay alive and pray for the men whom their destiny was unknown to us.We were released in 1986, only for another journey of pain and suffering. We had to start a new life as all our properties were confiscated and we still don’t know anything about the men.The other good people in our village helped us, offered us jobs in their lands and a place to stay in. I had to work -with my little brother and sisters- to earn our living and to continue with our study. Farming is too hard a job for children of our age, but we had already passed that stage.It’s hard to explain what life is when you're a suspect with the eyes of security agents following you, stifling your breath, making your life even harder and harder, we had to give them all the pennies we could save to get some information about the missing ones, and they always promised us good news, and that our beloved ones were alive and being treated well. we didn't believe that, but what is life without hope!?-Sixteen years later...October/2002. I finished medical school and started to practice my job as a doctor in Baghdad. The same year, Saddam suffers a hard time, the USA and the allies tighten the circle around him, he decides to set all prisoners free, including the political. That was what he said, the fact; he released only the murderers and the thieves.Our cries lost their way trying to find our relatives among the thousands of faces, each time they reassure us that there would be another group to be released the next day, but all our efforts were in vain, we had no one but god to pray to and seek his help to show us the way.Date: 4/9/2003, I can’t believe it, the tyrant falls, is it a dream?Does it mean no more fear, no more terror, and no more death? We jumped into the streets wreaking our vengeance on his pictures and statues that surrounded the village he raped in a dark night.The towns and villages expelled him and expelled his name……..WE WERE SAVED.I took a deep breath, the air had the scent of freedom, nothing can be more beautiful, it’s difficult to describe, but we were overwhelmed by happiness, with only one distress: where had our beloved ones gone? We started to search the security departments in Baghdad,- like thousands of Iraqis- looking for a trace, I didn’t take a long time, we found what we were looking for. The documents of the crime, I read with tears in my eyes; the presidency order dated: 7 /23 /1985, signed by the tyrant, ordering the execution of 143 men from Al-Dujaile, the youngest one (Najeeb Abd Kadim) 11 years old. Among these, 35 were relatives of mine.God bless your souls martyrs, may you have peace in heaven, if it wasn’t your courage and blood we wouldn’t be proud.This is the story behind these photos, my friend. It’s time they have a decent funeral. We haven’t found their remains yet, but they will always remain in our hearts”My friend surprised me saying” we don’t regret what happened, and yesterday, when the nine remaining heroes returned to Iraq, we met them with flowers, as the heroes of all the Iraqis, and we will never blame them, as they’re the ones who kept our chins up”This is what peace looked like in Iraq at Saddam’s time.The battle is not over yet, the evil and cruel criminals are every where, and they will not rest until they kidnap our dreams, but this time we’re stronger, as we are not alone. The whole good and brave people on earth took it upon themselves to fight with us, we hate wars and all the bloodshed that comes with them, but we have no other choice.Let us all dream of a world of love and real peace.N.B. All the copies of the documents could be found with Dr. Firas M. Yaqub
Posted by Omar @ 19:26
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Democracy triumphs
Iraq's constitutional referendum marks a significant step forward
Three years ago to the day, millions of Iraqis voted. There was only one name on the ballot paper. Saddam Hussein had summoned his subjects under pressure from the build-up of allied forces on his border. After the ballots were “counted”, Saddam claimed 100 per cent of the vote and awarded himself a new seven-year presidential term. That was the last time Iraqis voted in a referendum. Until Saturday.
The vote on Iraq’s draft constitution was a triumph on many levels. Men and women dressed in best suits and neatly pressed veils, and accompanied by their children, defied the bombers’ warnings to stay away. There were no suicide attacks and little disruption. Six people died, fewer than the number killed on British roads over an average weekend. The figure is also less than the 40 killed in more than 100 attacks when Iraqis elected the current national parliament in January. Turnout was comfortably higher than the 61 per cent who voted in this year’s British general election.
NI_MPU('middle');
The voting was not perfect. In an ideal world voters would not have to pass through three rings of concrete and razor wire security to reach the ballot box. Allied troops would not have to maintain a discreet but unambiguous show of strength near by. But the raised, ink-stained index finger is developing from a badge of courage and pride into a democratic habit. The prophets of doom who predicted bloody catastrophe ahead of January’s vote, political meltdown after it, and more country-wide carnage on Saturday have been proved hopelessly and wonderfully wrong. They seriously, and in some cases patronisingly, underestimated the courage and will of the Iraqi people to grasp their future.
Iraq is not out of the woods yet, but Saturday’s vote takes the country over another high and meaningful hurdle. The official result is a few days away, though the initial signs suggest the substantial “no” vote in Sunni-dominated provinces will not be enough to prevent ratification. But even if the constitution falls at this stage, all is far from lost. Iraq’s leaders will return to the drawing board and try again. Yet the political process so far has spawned developments that are deeply significant. The high Sunni turnout, even if the vast majority of its voting was “no”, was nonetheless encouraging. It shows that Sunnis are prepared to organise, engage and put themselves directly at odds with the nihilism of the insurgents. Likewise, Shia and Kurd leaders understand that they need to take the Sunnis with them. Their last-minute willingness to open a four-month window after the vote, in which Sunni objections could be included in an amended constitution, was smart politics. By attracting the support of the Iraqi Islamic Party, the largest Sunni party, it may have won the day.
Unfortunately, there are those who, whatever this week’s result, will continue to preach pessimism. Some of them would rather see Iraq fail than have to admit that the international presence could have any positive consequence. Saturday’s vote must force these Jeremiahs to question their consciences. What else do Iraqis have to do to show they deserve our admiration and support? The call for allied troops to quit Iraq hastily is more short-sighted than it has ever been. It was their ability to lock down the areas around polling stations that helped to seal the success. There was dancing in the streets of Baghdad on Saturday night. It is time for the sceptics to change their tune.
Iraq's constitutional referendum marks a significant step forward
Three years ago to the day, millions of Iraqis voted. There was only one name on the ballot paper. Saddam Hussein had summoned his subjects under pressure from the build-up of allied forces on his border. After the ballots were “counted”, Saddam claimed 100 per cent of the vote and awarded himself a new seven-year presidential term. That was the last time Iraqis voted in a referendum. Until Saturday.
The vote on Iraq’s draft constitution was a triumph on many levels. Men and women dressed in best suits and neatly pressed veils, and accompanied by their children, defied the bombers’ warnings to stay away. There were no suicide attacks and little disruption. Six people died, fewer than the number killed on British roads over an average weekend. The figure is also less than the 40 killed in more than 100 attacks when Iraqis elected the current national parliament in January. Turnout was comfortably higher than the 61 per cent who voted in this year’s British general election.
NI_MPU('middle');
The voting was not perfect. In an ideal world voters would not have to pass through three rings of concrete and razor wire security to reach the ballot box. Allied troops would not have to maintain a discreet but unambiguous show of strength near by. But the raised, ink-stained index finger is developing from a badge of courage and pride into a democratic habit. The prophets of doom who predicted bloody catastrophe ahead of January’s vote, political meltdown after it, and more country-wide carnage on Saturday have been proved hopelessly and wonderfully wrong. They seriously, and in some cases patronisingly, underestimated the courage and will of the Iraqi people to grasp their future.
Iraq is not out of the woods yet, but Saturday’s vote takes the country over another high and meaningful hurdle. The official result is a few days away, though the initial signs suggest the substantial “no” vote in Sunni-dominated provinces will not be enough to prevent ratification. But even if the constitution falls at this stage, all is far from lost. Iraq’s leaders will return to the drawing board and try again. Yet the political process so far has spawned developments that are deeply significant. The high Sunni turnout, even if the vast majority of its voting was “no”, was nonetheless encouraging. It shows that Sunnis are prepared to organise, engage and put themselves directly at odds with the nihilism of the insurgents. Likewise, Shia and Kurd leaders understand that they need to take the Sunnis with them. Their last-minute willingness to open a four-month window after the vote, in which Sunni objections could be included in an amended constitution, was smart politics. By attracting the support of the Iraqi Islamic Party, the largest Sunni party, it may have won the day.
Unfortunately, there are those who, whatever this week’s result, will continue to preach pessimism. Some of them would rather see Iraq fail than have to admit that the international presence could have any positive consequence. Saturday’s vote must force these Jeremiahs to question their consciences. What else do Iraqis have to do to show they deserve our admiration and support? The call for allied troops to quit Iraq hastily is more short-sighted than it has ever been. It was their ability to lock down the areas around polling stations that helped to seal the success. There was dancing in the streets of Baghdad on Saturday night. It is time for the sceptics to change their tune.
