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Iraq's
destiny tied to mosque politics; Shiite leaders give warnings
By Tom Hundley
Chicago Tribune
(KRT)
KARBALA, Iraq _ A fortresslike wall of cream-colored brick surrounds
the Imam Hussein Mosque, one of Shiite Islam's holiest shrines.
In the mosque is the tomb of Hussein, the Prophet Muhammad's grandson,
whose martyrdom in Karbala 1,323 years ago is mourned anew in an
annual ritual of frenzied self-flagellation.
The inner sanctum of the mosque has long been off-limits to non-Muslims,
but up until last month, tourists were permitted to pass through
the portals and enter the courtyard.
No more. For non-Muslims, the mosque's gilded dome and towering
twin minarets now can be admired only from outside the walls; its
richly tiled facade of turquoise and cobalt blue glimpsed only through
the portals.
Iraq's Shiites are
exercising their newfound religious freedom by excluding all
but believers from their holiest shrines. In much the same way,
Shiite leaders are turning inward in anticipation of a seismic
political shift that could place the destiny of Iraq in their
hands.
Shiites make up more than 60 percent of Iraq's population, but
a traditional Sunni ruling class has dominated Iraqi politics
since independence in 1932. Under Saddam Hussein, repression
of the Shiite majority became cruel and systematic, especially
after a failed uprising against the regime after the 1991 Persian
Gulf War. |
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Since the collapse of the regime last month, Shiite
clerics generally have been moderate in their public pronouncements
to Western media. They have called for unity with their Sunni co-religionists
and signaled a willingness to cooperate with the American occupying
force _ or at least to not actively oppose it.
But inside the mosques and religious schools of Karbala and Najaf,
the citadels of Shiite spirituality, a fierce struggle over ideology,
power and identity has begun. It is driven by a shared vision among
ascendant hard-liners that an Islamic state in Iraq is God's will
and that the only obstacle to that is the United States.
On a recent Friday, the day that Karbala's imams traditionally mix
prayer and politics, the vast plaza between the Hussein Mosque and
the Abbas Mosque was filling up rapidly. Pilgrims from every corner
of Iraq converged with street vendors whose stalls offered everything
from religious books to cigarettes to, incongruously, hot pink lingerie.
Thousands crammed shoulder to shoulder in the Hussein Mosque and
its courtyard. When it was full, thousands more arranged themselves
in long rows outside the walls, facing south, toward Mecca. Shortly
after noon, the mosque's loudspeakers crackled to life:
"Muslims, beware! The foreigner is trying to enter the mind
of the Muslims with false ideas. He is trying to take religious
leaders out of society and to build walls between religious leaders
and the people."
The speaker was Abdel Mahdi Salami, one of the leaders of a group
of activist clerics in Karbala whose supporters are effectively
running this city. Within days of the collapse of the old regime,
they had restarted municipal services, restored salaries and returned
a sense of stability to daily life _ something the United States
has been unable to do in Baghdad.
Salami and his supporters believe the separation of church and state
is an alien idea, unworkable in Iraq. For them, the only source
of law and sovereignty is God.
The group of Iraqi political leaders that has been meeting under
U.S. tutelage for the purpose of forming an interim government has
signed a document in which they declare their support for a "democratic
and pluralistic Iraq not based on communal identity." This
is the American concept of democracy in the Middle East.
A few Westernized elites in Iraq may genuinely support the idea,
but for most of the population, the notion is wholly unnatural.
Before the Friday prayers, the new committee that governs Karbala
had a meeting in the municipal hall. Most of the men appeared to
come from religious backgrounds, and they were disturbed by reports
of "un-Islamic" behavior by the Marines who are camped
near a sports stadium on the edge of the city.
"They are giving money to our girls to fornicate. They are
giving money to small children to bring them alcohol," said
Akram al-Zubaidi, a member of the leadership committee. He said
he had "proof," but none was offered.
He is a slight man, bespectacled, intense, a seller of religious
books who spent 12 years in Saddam's prisons and later fled to Syria.
His body bears the scars of torture.
"The Americans are returning Iraq to the servants of Saddam.
We don't understand this. We don't accept it," he said. "We
want our revenge."
Marine Lt. Col. Michael Belcher, the senior American military commander
in Karbala, was surprised to hear the allegations.
"No one has brought any complaints like that to my attention,"
said Belcher, who meets regularly with the governing committee.
Belcher has been briefed on local religious beliefs.
"This is a very holy city. For the Shiites, this is basically
their Vatican," he said.
From the beginning,
the Shiite branch of Islam has been driven by a profound sense
of grievance. The split between Sunni and Shiite arose not over
a question of faith, but over who would lead the community.
The Shiites believe the mantle of the Prophet Muhammad properly
descends through his bloodline, first to his son-in-law, Ali,
whose tomb is in Najaf, and then to his grandson, Hussein, whose
martyrdom in the battle of Karbala in 680 is the defining tragedy
of the faith.
Outnumbered on the battlefield and betrayed by his allies, Hussein
was decapitated and his head carried away on a pike. |
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His nemesis, Yazid I, the Umayyid caliph, greatly
expanded the temporal power of the Muslim community, but Shiites
regard him as the first in a long line of tyrants under whom they
have suffered.
Saddam was only the latest in this line, and each day, by degrees
almost imperceptible, the Shiite sense of grievance is refocusing
on a new tyrant.
"Muslims beware!" Salami's voice calls out on the loudspeakers.
"Islam is losing its identity because Muslim lands are being
occupied by foreigners. Refuse to obey them!"
These days in the streets of Karbala, Najaf and Baghdad, there are
mixed messages, a welter of voices and pamphlets, all claiming to
speak in the name of divine wisdom.
A week ago, a new radio station began broadcasting in Karbala, the
sort of event U.S. officials like to trumpet as proof that democracy
is taking hold in Iraq. The voice on the radio urged listeners to
"kill a Marine."
For Iraq's Shiites, the most authoritative voice is that of the
Hawza, a loose organization of religious seminaries in Najaf that
dates to medieval times. The Hawza is governed by four senior clerics,
and it controls a vast grass-roots network that can mobilize millions.
It showed its political muscle by organizing neighborhood patrols
to stop looters in Baghdad. It also urged municipal workers to return
to their jobs, gave cash to those in need, and _ most alarming to
the U.S. occupation force _ took over the administration of several
major hospitals.
The Hawza's inner workings are oblique, but these days it is apparent
there are sharp ideological splits within its ranks.
Grand Ayatollah Ali Sistani, one of four senior leaders, consistently
has struck a moderate line, urging clerics to steer clear of politics
to avoid tainting their religious authority. But a number of younger
Hawza clerics have advocated a far more activist agenda.
Most notable among these younger men is 30-year-old Muqtada Sadr,
whose father, Ayatollah Mohammed Sadek Sadr, and two of his brothers
were assassinated by the government in 1999.
Sadr has made clear he seeks a political role, and in a recent sermon
he outlined his vision of the new Iraq: a strict ban on alcohol
and a requirement that all women, regardless of faith, wear the
veil.
In the Hawza's scruffy headquarters off a narrow side street in
Najaf, Qais al-Khazaly, a young cleric with a thin, ascetic face
and a white turban, spoke guardedly to an American visitor.
"A state that provides people with freedom is the most important
thing. It's not a necessary condition that we have an Islamic state
... but I think it is the right decision," he said.
He warned that if the United States attempted to block the will
of the Shiite majority, there would be trouble.
"I can't define the kind of trouble. What I can say is that
the Iraqi people are revolutionary people. Saddam Hussein managed
to stay in power because he was willing to use all means of repression.
We know the Americans won't be willing to do the same," he
said.
Al-Khazaly was skeptical of U.S. efforts to establish an interim
government in Iraq and said pointedly that "one of the things
we want to avoid is direct contact with the United States."
The reason is not so much that the clerics are mistrustful of the
United States.
"It's because of what the people might think," he explained.
The hazards of "what the people might think" were apparent
last month when Sheik Abdel Majid al-Khoei, a moderate cleric with
U.S. backing, returned from years of exile in London only to be
stabbed to death by a mob within the sacred precincts of the Imam
Ali Mosque.
Backers of Sadr are widely believed to have been responsible. Al-Khazaly
denies it.
Another cleric who is trying to stake out a political role is Ayatollah
Muhammad Bakr al-Hakim. Last week, tens of thousands of his backers
filled the streets to celebrate his return to Najaf after 23 years
of exile in Iran. In an emotional homecoming speech, he spoke of
U.S. and British plots to enslave the Iraqis and warned his followers.
"Our enemies are trying to divide us," he said. "They
support one against the other, but really they see us all as the
same thing. Be cautious. Be cautious."
Al-Hakim, who commands a large, well-armed militia and receives
financial backing from Tehran, is involved in his own complex game
with the United States. His organization, the Supreme Council for
Islamic Revolution in Iraq, boycotted the first of the U.S.-organized
meetings to establish an interim government but left its followers
with the impression that it had been excluded.
The council participated in a second meeting but sent only a low-level
delegation. Meanwhile, al-Hakim's brother, his main emissary, has
been conducting talks with senior-level U.S. officials, and it is
likely that Ayatollah al-Hakim will take a seat on the interim governing
council.
His dealings with the United States and Iran are cause for suspicion
among other clerics.
Another group positioned to take advantage of the emerging power
struggle is the Dawa Islamiyya, the Islamic Call party. Founded
in 1957, it was among the earliest of the Arab world's radical Islamist
parties. Its specialty was political assassinations.
After a failed attempt on the life of Baath Party big shot Tariq
Aziz in 1979, the regime launched a crackdown and hundreds of Dawa
members were rounded up and killed. The party went underground.
The passing years appear to have mellowed Dawa's political ideology,
but the party retains a highly disciplined and organized structure.
Behind the high walls and razor wire of the former Republican Guard
Palace that serves as the U.S. headquarters in Baghdad, officials
say they are keeping close tabs on developments in the Shiite leadership.
"We are talking with them. We do it all the time," said
a senior official. "They are an important part of the society."
___
(c) 2003, Chicago Tribune.
Visit the Chicago Tribune on the Internet at http://www.chicago.tribune.com/
Distributed by Knight Ridder/Tribune Information Services.
Ayatollah Ali Sistani |
Ayatollah Khamenei |
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