May 5 2006
In a dimly-lit former youth centre in the Syrian border town of Husaybah sit two fierce looking brothers, one the chief of police and the other the colonel of the local Iraqi army brigade, both members of the powerful Albu Mahal tribe.
By their side is the commander of the US Marine battalion in charge of this region, Lt Col Nick Marano. Before them in a semi-circle of chairs sit the sheikhs of the region’s tribes - Albu Mahals, Karbulis, Salmanis, Ubaydis, Albu Hardans, and others, each in their robe and headdress.
The Iraqi army colonel, who, like most Iraqis interviewed for this story, preferred not to have his name in print, praises the cooperation of the tribes in keeping the region safe since the US Marines swept through five months ago, routing local insurgents.
A sheikh, in turn, pledges that he would surrender his cousins, if they were terrorists. The tribal leaders complain about the economy, however, and hint that the dominance of the Albu Mahal is unfair.
Finally, Lt Col Marano tells the assembled sheikhs that in response to their requests he will recommend the release a minor insurgent leader of the Albu Hardan tribe, associated with attacks on coalition forces but not Iraqis, from the US detention facility at Camp Bucca.
Such meetings have been common throughout Iraq over the past three years. US commanders, anxious for the support of the populace in fighting insurgents, promise the release of detainees and economic bounties if only information can be supplied.
Tribal leaders promise cooperation in finding fugitive insurgents. Often neither side delivers. But here in Husaybah and its rural hinterland, a region collectively known as al-Qaem, the equation seems to work. Al-Qaeda-linked groups still operate, but the sheikhs have repudiated them and cooperation from the local population in preventing insurgent attacks appears genuine.
For instance, 20 roadside bombs and booby traps were discovered in the region between March 15 and April 7. Only two exploded, both harmlessly. The remaining 18 were discovered early, mainly as a result of tips from locals, and defused.
When US commanders and politicians in Baghdad speak about splitting the insurgency between nationalists and extremists and creating an ‘’oil spot’’ of stability where Iraqi state control can be rebuilt and then spread to neighbouring regions, al-Qaem is very likely what they have in mind.
So while attention in recent weeks has turned to sectarian violence in urban areas sparked by the February 22 bombing of a Shia shrine in Samarra and the attempts to create a new government, the campaign to undermine the insurgency continues.
The al-Qaem region, part of the far-western province of Anbar, runs from the Syrian border about 30km east, a narrow ribbon of farmland and villages alongside the meandering Euphrates bounded on each side by hundreds of kilometres of desert.
The population, estimated at 180,000, earned its livelihood from two nearby public sector factories, from the border trade both legal and smuggled, and by sending their sons to become military officers. Like most of Iraq’s Sunni heartland, al-Qaem bred a homegrown insurgency shortly after the war. Residents blamed the ‘’harsh’’ behaviour of US troops.
‘’Everyone.. backed the resistance,’’ says the man who is now al-Qaem’s police chief. “It was a natural reaction to foreign occupation,’’ adds a former army officer applying to be a policeman. He blames ‘’random arrests’’ by US soldiers “who at any time could stop you in the street, throw a bag over your head, and take you away”.
By 2004, however, the region saw a large influx of volunteers from the Arab world affiliated with the extremist ideology of al-Qaeda. As Marines redeployed to the siege of Falluja throughout the summer and autumn, the foreigners gradually took control of al-Qaem and other Euphrates valley towns like Haditha and Hit, often massacring the local police,
Today, the Albu Mahal refer to the foreigners as ‘’takfiris’’ - those who denounce other Muslims as atheists. They accuse the foreigners of showing little regard for Iraqi lives, setting off indiscriminate car bombs in urban areas. In addition to Iraqi police and soldiers, they murdered those whom they suspected of being informants, even other insurgent chiefs who disagreed with their tactics.
By mid-2005, some of the early insurgents - particularly those affiliated with the Albu Mahal tribe - had turned against the foreign fighters. They formed a militia dubbed the Hamza brigades, named after a revered warrior of early Islam, and went to battle with the takfiris. The Americans say that the first they realised something was going on was when they noticed mortars and rockets whizzing back and forth that weren’t aimed at them.
Although the Hamza’s offensive petered out, by November the US Marines had built up enough fighting power to break al-Qaeda’s hold in an operation called Steel Curtain. With Hamza fighters providing intelligence, 2,500 Marines and 1,000 Iraqis steamrollered through the insurgents’ strongholds in Husaybah and the adjacent town of Karabila.
Today, the walls of Husaybah bear graffiti proclaiming, ‘’No to takifiris’’, “Long live the Iraqi army’’, ‘’Long live the Hamza brigades’’ and ‘’Long live the Albu Mahal tribe.’’
Lt Richard Cannici served in al-Qaem a year ago, and is deployed there again today.
’’Last year it was all enemy-held territory... We would come in, do a fast hit on a target, and get out, and just try not to get hit. We never developed any relationship with the locals, there just wasn’t an opportunity.” Today, he says, the Marines can move through at leisure, chat with residents, and troubleshoot local problems.
To maintain the current calm the Marines have saturated al-Qaem with troops, with an outpost keeping watch over just about every major thoroughfare. The US military is also trying to avoid the heavy-handed tactics that fed al-Qaem’s first round of insurgent activity, adopting new procedures to reduce the accidental shooting of civilian motorists, for example.
“I’ve heard several local sheikhs speak of the insurgency in the past tense [as though] it was defeated, and therefore it’s time to move on with their lives,’’ says Lt Col Marano. Now he wants to create a sense that “the region is moving forward”.
One possible move would be to reopen Husaybah’s border post, closed since 2004. This is not without risk, but al-Qaem residents argue that infiltrators can probably get through anyway. Those who don’t want to find a way through the desert can probably find someone to bribe, either here or elsewhere.
A peace built around tribes has potential fault lines. Throughout much of the fighting, al-Qaeda was able to operate out of the town of Karabila, territory of the Karbuli tribe, with relative impunity. The Albu Mahal bear grudges. Karbulis claim that at least some of their number have been kidnapped and murdered in the past months by former Hamza militiamen (although they ascribe robbery, not politics, as the motive).
Marines do not expect al-Qaem’s relative stability to go unchallenged.
Forming a police force will create new security headaches, as insurgents have in the past concentrated attacks on both lines of recruits and newly-opened stations.
Nonetheless, in al-Qaem a local history which channelled Iraqi nationalism against the radical insurgency, combined with unusually heavy deployment of US Marines appears to have created a zone of relative stability in what was once an insurgent stronghold.
Given enough time and boots on the ground, the US Marine and Army units in Iraq hope to create similar zones in other towns throughout the Sunni heartland.
The formula that worked in al-Qaem may be hard to repeat, however. In some of the larger towns along the Euphrates Valley, tribes compete for influence with radical mosques that attracted disaffected youth.
Closer to Baghdad, the threat of sectarian violence and the growth of Shia militias has allowed the insurgents to act as neighbourhood self-defence forces. Al-Qaem, nevertheless, gives a glimpse of what a post-insurgency political order in the Sunni Arab heartland might look like.
The Financial Times