KIRKUK, Iraq
- (KRT) - From the millenniums-old citadel
that stands on a hill in the heart of this ancient
city, one can literally see the complicated mosaic
that is Kirkuk.
There, beyond the
trash-strewn banks of the Al-Khasa River, are the
Kurdish refugee camps and the historic Turkmen homes,
the Arab slums and the ornate Assyrian Christian
churches.
There, across a
footbridge so teeming with people that it seems not
another body can fit on it, is the thriving city
market with its leathers and fresh fruit, its imported
electronics and everyday junk.
And there, far in the
distance, are the pipelines of the Northern Oil Co.,
their burn-off valves spewing the pungent smell of
sulfur and the angry orange flames that are visible
for miles.
When the government of
Saddam Hussein fell after the U.S.-led invasion in
March 2003, Kirkuk was predicted to be ground zero in
an Iraqi civil war. Nearly equal parts Arab Muslim,
Kurd and Turkmen, with a number of Iraqi Christians as
well, the groups were expected to clash viciously for
power, prestige and wealth, setting the stage for a
battle that could quickly spread nationwide.
But instead, even as
violence and insurgency rages all around it, Kirkuk
has defied the odds, becoming one of the most peaceful
cities in Iraq. Its economy is growing; its police
force is considered a model for the rest of the
nation; its City Council meetings are lively and
attended by the public.
"People always ask how
this happened," said Col. Lloyd Miles, the U.S. Army
commander in charge of Kirkuk province, "and I tell
them that has a very complicated answer."
Kirkuk's success
ironically appears to spring from the very things that
once plagued it: Unlike cities where one or two
ethnicities dominate, Kirkuk's four main groups have
stayed so busy jockeying for political position that
they haven't had time to attack U.S. forces or one
another, military officials say. Residents are
planning a new university, a government center and a
military base. And the region's oil-rich land offers a
promise of wealth to come.
But these are
double-edged swords. With the oil come saboteurs. With
ethnic diversity comes the potential for political
upheaval. With the expanding economy comes a black
market of weaponry.
No one knows whether
Kirkuk will remain stable. U.S. intelligence officials
fear insurgents from Mosul are creeping toward the
area. And as a controversial election looms, deeply
ingrained memories of ethnic strife have been
reawakened.
"What happens here,"
Miles said, "may well indicate what will happen in all
of Iraq. In miniature, this city represents the nation
as a whole. Every problem Kirkuk is dealing with now,
the entire country will eventually deal with. I think
there is no city that should be watched as closely as
this one."
If spirited civic
debate is a sign of a healthy city, then Kirkuk is in
good shape. At a meeting last week of the interim
council that governs Kirkuk and its surrounding
province, its members shouted and called one another
names. Various groups stormed out in protest.
"But no one got shot,"
said Army Lt. Col. Richard White, who works frequently
with the council.
In Iraq, that is no
small thing. High-ranking politicians throughout the
country have been slain on a regular basis for the
past 18 months. Despite its relative stability, even
Kirkuk has not been exempt: Three council members have
been killed, and the provincial governor survived an
assassination attempt.
The council reflects
Kirkuk's diversity. Of the 40 members, 13 are Kurdish,
10 are Arab, 10 are Turkmens and seven are Assyrian
Christians. Because there is no runaway majority, the
groups seem to keep one another in check.
"They spend all their
energy making sure someone else isn't getting the
upper hand," Miles said.
Coalition forces said
they struggle constantly to show them all equal
attention - usually in the form of money. The U.S.
troops in Kirkuk, the 2nd Brigade of the 25th Infantry
Division, keep spreadsheets detailing how much money
has been spent on civic projects for each group. If
the Kurds get a soccer field, the Turkmens get a
women's clinic. If the Assyrians get a new school, the
Arabs get hospital repairs.
The provincial council
must do the same thing.
"My thought can never
just be the importance of a project," said Hawry
Talabani, a Kurd who heads the city's reconstruction
committee. "I have to think about the background and
the emotion that will come with it. Some neighborhoods
need much more than others, but we have to make every
group feel they are getting their share."
Still, last week's
council meeting included a harbinger of possible
ethnic strife.
Led by the Kurds, the
council voted to petition the Independent Electoral
Commission of Iraq to postpone provincial elections in
Kirkuk scheduled to coincide with the Jan. 30 national
election. The Kurds say thousands of Arabs who were
moved to Kirkuk during Saddam's regime should be
forced to leave, and that provincial boundaries should
be redrawn to the way they were before Saddam changed
them. Many more Kurds could then vote.
Arabs and Turkmens, who
would stand to lose the most power to a Kurdish
majority, want provincial elections to go ahead as
planned.
Hoping to take back a
majority in this city that they long have hoped will
become the capital of the territory of Kurdistan,
thousands of displaced Kurds have streamed back into
the region and are living in tents and other makeshift
housing on the edges of Kirkuk. Hundreds live in a
soccer stadium; others are in a bombed-out army base.
Arabs, many of whom
moved here decades ago, say they have no intention of
leaving.
"I have lived here all
my life," said Khawla Hadi, 32, a teacher. "I will do
whatever I can to make this city better."
The issue of ethnicity
in Kirkuk is contentious enough that it gets specific
mention in Iraq's interim constitution. Among other
things, the charter calls for people displaced by
Arabization to have their property restored to them or
receive compensation.
How, when or even if
that will be done is up in the air. Tens of thousands
of people, mostly Kurds, have filed claims for homes
and property lost when they were forced out of Kirkuk
province. To date, not one such claim has been
resolved.
It is rare to talk
about an Iraqi city without security being the first
topic of conversation. But Kirkuk has been largely
under control for months.
Over the summer, U.S.
soldiers here were told to lower their "aggressive
profile." They now sit lower in their Humvee turrets
and do not point weapons directly at cars or
pedestrians.
"We told them one hand
should be waving, one hand should be on the weapons,"
Lt. Col. Mark Dewhurst said.
The situation is not
perfect. Roadside bombs still go off; a soldier was
killed last week in one such explosion. But unlike in
most Iraqi cities, where soldiers live on outlying
posts and enter city limits predominantly for patrols,
several hundred troops in Kirkuk live in "safe houses"
in the city center. Neighborhood kids swim in their
pool; the soldiers send their local interpreters to
pick up food from restaurants.
Bravo Company of the
1st Battalion of the 21st Infantry Regiment is one
such example. The soldiers live in a sprawling
compound in eastern Kirkuk. In nearly a year of living
there, they have not taken a single mortar round or
attack from a rocket-propelled grenade.
The soldiers know their
quadrant of the city as well as any local. Every day
they visit schools, talk with religious leaders, visit
clinics to check that medical supplies are coming in.
Bravo Company works
with police stations in its sector, always conducting
patrols and missions with police to demonstrate that
the Americans are not the only ones in charge of
security.
"There are a lot of
reasons why Kirkuk is as stable as it is," said Bravo
Company's commander, Capt. Bill Hampton. "But one of
the reasons at the top of the list is the local
police. They've gotten good enough that they go out on
missions on their own and handle situations very
professionally."
But even though
everyone, in theory, is equal under the law, Kirkuk's
ethnic divides play a role even in police work. All
the precincts initially were set up so they were
ethnically and religiously diverse, but the officers
have been creating de facto Kurd, Arab, Turkmen and
Assyrian stations by trading jobs.
"We keep switching them
back but they just trade off again," Hampton said. "It
can get frustrating. We're constantly telling them
that their loyalty is to the law and the city, not to
their own ethnic group. We've made the speech a
million times. One of these days it will sink in."
---
© 2004, Chicago
Tribune.
