.Kurdistan Capital Sets Example for Iraq
IRBIL, Iraq (AP) — For anyone who has spent time in Baghdad, the most startling thing about a visit to Kurdistan's capital, Irbil, is that it resembles a city at peace, at least by Iraqi standards. The last bomb to hit Irbil was on May 9, when 14 people died in a suicide attack on a government building.
Planes flying into Baghdad execute a rapid spiral toward the runway to reduce the chances of getting hit by any ground fire. U.S. and Iraqi military vehicles ply the highway leading into the city from the airport. Traffic crawls through heavily defended checkpoints.
But the biggest hassle for a visitor arriving by plane in Irbil is mundane, a long wait in line at immigration. "Do you have your DOD card?" an officer asked, mistaking an American civilian for a U.S. government employee affiliated with the Department of Defense.
The next cultural shock is the relative lack of guns on the streets of Irbil, an ancient city near the site of a battlefield victory of the Macedonian king, Alexander the Great, over forces of the Persian empire. A little more than a decade ago, the city was the scene of fighting among Kurdish factions, one of them backed by Saddam Hussein's military.
Soldiers, some in uniforms of American-made desert camouflage, carry automatic weapons outside key government buildings. Some armed guards, visibly relaxed, stroll down avenues or lounge outside banks, fuel depots and other installations. They don't wear helmets or bulletproof vests.
Security is tighter around a compound in the Ainkawa neighborhood of Irbil where foreign contractors and U.S. diplomatic staff live. Even here, though, the concrete blast walls are fewer, and lower, than those found at similar installations in Baghdad. Ainkawa is a Christian district in a Kurdish city, which is as safe as it gets for Westerners in Iraq.
Kurds are a non-Arab people distantly related to the Iranians and make up about 15 percent of Iraq's 27 million people. Neighboring Iran, Syria and Turkey also have Kurdish minorities that have come into conflict with governments seeking to curb their separatist movements.
Iraqi Kurds rebelled against Saddam after the Gulf War in 1991. U.S.-led forces created a safe haven for the Kurds, who eventually established a stable, self-governing territory that had little in common with the chaos elsewhere in Iraq.
They rejoined the central government after Saddam was ousted in 2003, though maintain a big say in their own affairs.
As U.S. allies, the Kurds are targets of insurgents, and the area under their control lies close to troubled cities such as Mosul and Kirkuk. But bombings in the Kurds' semiautonomous zone are considered unusual, partly a result of rigorous policing that keeps attackers outside the so-called "Green Line" that divides Kurdistan from the rest of Iraq.
An official of the Kurdistan Regional Government invited an American journalist for ice cream and a walk through downtown late one night to show that Irbil was safe. Such an excursion in Baghdad, for a foreigner or an Iraqi, would be extremely unwise. And unlike the Iraqi capital, Irbil does not impose curfews.
Tea shops were packed and smoke billowed from a barbecue restaurant. Iskan Street, a shopping thoroughfare, was hopping, even though it was quieter than usual because Islam's holy month of Ramadan is under way. The official urged the journalist to walk around at night by himself.
Some foreign investors from neighboring Turkey and elsewhere have been attracted by Irbil's stable security and its income from oil reserves in the region. Half-built, high-rise apartments and office towers are rising from the dusty plains, but public services and infrastructure need to be upgraded.
In one Baghdad-style image in Irbil this week, half a dozen armored, sports utility vehicles carrying a U.S. congressional delegation barreled past the Citadel, a walled, crumbling enclave on the highest point in the city. The convoy was forced to stop on a crowded street as a driver, to the amusement of onlookers, tried to parallel park in front of it.
Sirens whooped, and the convoy sped on.
The U.S. military presence in Kurdistan is minimal. More than 1,000 South Korean troops in the area provide medical care at a hospital on their base and other humanitarian projects. It is easy to reach their compound entrance; just get waved through two lackluster, Kurdish checkpoints without a car or ID check. On a recent day, half a dozen South Korean soldiers without body armor crowded into a kiosk at the main gate to listen to an officer's instructions.
Private car owners in Irbil don't seem to have any qualms about driving around in big, white SUVs. Such vehicles are frequently attacked in Baghdad and other more dangerous parts of Iraq because they are favored by foreign contractors. In Kurdistan's capital, there are even a few Hummers, the civilian version of the American military Humvee.
The largely homogenous, civilian population in Kurdistan, eager to stay away from the sectarian and factional bloodshed among Sunni and Shiite Arabs farther south, keeps in close contact with their trusted security forces.
If a suspicious person loiters too long near a government building, someone will contact the authorities. If someone rents an apartment, the owner will likely demand proof of identity and clearance from security officials. Checkpoint guards want to know where travelers came from, where they're going, and whom they are going to see.
For all the security successes, Kurdistan's safety is fragile by international standards. Last month, Austrian Airlines suspended flights to Irbil because of security concerns, and Sweden has also suspended commercial flights to the region.
Falah Mustafa Bakir, head of Kurdistan's foreign relations department, said the Kurds had appealed in vain to American forces to provide surveillance cameras, equipment that detects explosives and other high-tech security gear. But he said he felt comfortable without bodyguards.
"I drive alone," Bakir said. "I go the market. I go to restaurants."
AP
The only advise that I think I can add at this point is that when Bush looses in Iraq and has to order a retreat, that we retreat into Kurdistan.
Planes flying into Baghdad execute a rapid spiral toward the runway to reduce the chances of getting hit by any ground fire. U.S. and Iraqi military vehicles ply the highway leading into the city from the airport. Traffic crawls through heavily defended checkpoints.
But the biggest hassle for a visitor arriving by plane in Irbil is mundane, a long wait in line at immigration. "Do you have your DOD card?" an officer asked, mistaking an American civilian for a U.S. government employee affiliated with the Department of Defense.
The next cultural shock is the relative lack of guns on the streets of Irbil, an ancient city near the site of a battlefield victory of the Macedonian king, Alexander the Great, over forces of the Persian empire. A little more than a decade ago, the city was the scene of fighting among Kurdish factions, one of them backed by Saddam Hussein's military.
Soldiers, some in uniforms of American-made desert camouflage, carry automatic weapons outside key government buildings. Some armed guards, visibly relaxed, stroll down avenues or lounge outside banks, fuel depots and other installations. They don't wear helmets or bulletproof vests.
Security is tighter around a compound in the Ainkawa neighborhood of Irbil where foreign contractors and U.S. diplomatic staff live. Even here, though, the concrete blast walls are fewer, and lower, than those found at similar installations in Baghdad. Ainkawa is a Christian district in a Kurdish city, which is as safe as it gets for Westerners in Iraq.
Kurds are a non-Arab people distantly related to the Iranians and make up about 15 percent of Iraq's 27 million people. Neighboring Iran, Syria and Turkey also have Kurdish minorities that have come into conflict with governments seeking to curb their separatist movements.
Iraqi Kurds rebelled against Saddam after the Gulf War in 1991. U.S.-led forces created a safe haven for the Kurds, who eventually established a stable, self-governing territory that had little in common with the chaos elsewhere in Iraq.
They rejoined the central government after Saddam was ousted in 2003, though maintain a big say in their own affairs.
As U.S. allies, the Kurds are targets of insurgents, and the area under their control lies close to troubled cities such as Mosul and Kirkuk. But bombings in the Kurds' semiautonomous zone are considered unusual, partly a result of rigorous policing that keeps attackers outside the so-called "Green Line" that divides Kurdistan from the rest of Iraq.
An official of the Kurdistan Regional Government invited an American journalist for ice cream and a walk through downtown late one night to show that Irbil was safe. Such an excursion in Baghdad, for a foreigner or an Iraqi, would be extremely unwise. And unlike the Iraqi capital, Irbil does not impose curfews.
Tea shops were packed and smoke billowed from a barbecue restaurant. Iskan Street, a shopping thoroughfare, was hopping, even though it was quieter than usual because Islam's holy month of Ramadan is under way. The official urged the journalist to walk around at night by himself.
Some foreign investors from neighboring Turkey and elsewhere have been attracted by Irbil's stable security and its income from oil reserves in the region. Half-built, high-rise apartments and office towers are rising from the dusty plains, but public services and infrastructure need to be upgraded.
In one Baghdad-style image in Irbil this week, half a dozen armored, sports utility vehicles carrying a U.S. congressional delegation barreled past the Citadel, a walled, crumbling enclave on the highest point in the city. The convoy was forced to stop on a crowded street as a driver, to the amusement of onlookers, tried to parallel park in front of it.
Sirens whooped, and the convoy sped on.
The U.S. military presence in Kurdistan is minimal. More than 1,000 South Korean troops in the area provide medical care at a hospital on their base and other humanitarian projects. It is easy to reach their compound entrance; just get waved through two lackluster, Kurdish checkpoints without a car or ID check. On a recent day, half a dozen South Korean soldiers without body armor crowded into a kiosk at the main gate to listen to an officer's instructions.
Private car owners in Irbil don't seem to have any qualms about driving around in big, white SUVs. Such vehicles are frequently attacked in Baghdad and other more dangerous parts of Iraq because they are favored by foreign contractors. In Kurdistan's capital, there are even a few Hummers, the civilian version of the American military Humvee.
The largely homogenous, civilian population in Kurdistan, eager to stay away from the sectarian and factional bloodshed among Sunni and Shiite Arabs farther south, keeps in close contact with their trusted security forces.
If a suspicious person loiters too long near a government building, someone will contact the authorities. If someone rents an apartment, the owner will likely demand proof of identity and clearance from security officials. Checkpoint guards want to know where travelers came from, where they're going, and whom they are going to see.
For all the security successes, Kurdistan's safety is fragile by international standards. Last month, Austrian Airlines suspended flights to Irbil because of security concerns, and Sweden has also suspended commercial flights to the region.
Falah Mustafa Bakir, head of Kurdistan's foreign relations department, said the Kurds had appealed in vain to American forces to provide surveillance cameras, equipment that detects explosives and other high-tech security gear. But he said he felt comfortable without bodyguards.
"I drive alone," Bakir said. "I go the market. I go to restaurants."
AP
The only advise that I think I can add at this point is that when Bush looses in Iraq and has to order a retreat, that we retreat into Kurdistan.
posted by madtom at 4:59 PM
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