.Under Saddam, Castro and Other Dictators Were Revered
I would almost certainly have praised Fidel Castro if I were to have written about him years ago, when I was young back home in Iraq. Where I grew up, you were only taught to revere your presidents and commend and support their ideologies, decisions and achievements. In a way, a president to me was a god-like figure I could only admire and obey.
Besides, Castro was always lauded by Saddam Hussein and, as such, he had always been seen by Iraqis as a symbol of heroism (he probably came second after Saddam in that regard). As Iraq became isolated economically and politically, Saddam sometimes referred to Castro and how the U.S., despite all its might, had failed to bring Cuba to its knees. He said this was because of Castro’s leadership, his courage and his people’s belief in him. That was one of Saddam’s mantras. He told us the U.S. had vicious schemes to destroy Iraq, steal its resources and humiliate its people. But he said Iraqis could defeat the U.S. by copying what Cubans were doing in the face of U.S. pressure. The U.S. sanctions on Cuba had always been seen by Iraqis under Saddam as a symbol of America’s hegemony and arrogance.
In fact, no dictator was spoken of negatively or described as oppressive in Saddam’s Iraq. Arab rulers were all referred to as “excellencies”; China and the Soviet Union were our friends; and Venezuela’s Hugo Chavez was seen as another heroic Latin American figure, especially after showing his support for Saddam with a visit to Baghdad in 2000 in defiance of international sanctions. I remember watching videos of Saddam wearing a dark suit and driving Chavez in the Karrada district of Baghdad in a new black Mercedes.
Growing up in Iraq, we liked any official who was shown on Iraqi TV with Saddam. We considered them friends of Iraq and sometimes, especially after the first Gulf War and the imposition of U.N. sanctions, as heroes. Yasser Arafat was another regular in Baghdad. He was seen as a beleaguered and oppressed hero. I sometimes felt that if Arafat were to live anywhere other than among the Palestinians, Iraq would be his choice. When Saddam drove Chavez in the Mercedes, one place they traveled was on the then newly named Yasser Arafat Street.
Even dictators such as Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin were not spoken of badly under Saddam. We grew up being taught to admire their ambition and desire to lead. Information about their atrocities was repressed. In my high school I studied World War I and World War II in history class, but there was no mention of the mass killings committed by the Nazis. To the surprise of my classmates and professors, I only learned about the Holocaust, for example, when I came to New York in 2004 to study at Columbia University. Instead, we were taught about domineering U.S. and British regimes, which were cast as arrogant and belligerent in our media.
In Iraq, Saddam was seen as a demigod. His posters and pictures adorned the streets, walls and houses and first pages of school books. His statues were ubiquitous. He was the leader, the inspirer and the father. Most national songs were more about him than about Iraq itself. When my Columbia University professor drove me from the airport after I arrived in the U.S., I looked from the car windows for posters and statues of President Bush. He told me there were none, and I was shocked. At first, I thought he was hiding the truth so that I would think he didn’t like the Bush administration and was against the war.
Even today when walking in the streets of New York I sometimes find myself unwittingly mumbling an Arabic song about Saddam called “Our Father.” There was continuous propaganda about him, his visits and his speeches when I was growing up. Radio and television programs were dedicated every day to teaching wisdom from his speeches or reciting poetry about him. Posters and pamphlets with his quotes and recommendations were given away at Baath Party headquarters. His birthday became a holiday, and we celebrated it.
Many of us, in fact, found it hard to believe that Saddam would one day die. In moments of despair, I sometimes thought that things would never change in Iraq until I was old. I feared that I would never see my country with a leader other than Saddam or his son. When Saddam got 100% of the votes in the “presidential elections,” his vice president said something that many of us kind of already believed. He said if Prophet Mohammed wasn’t the seal of prophets, Saddam would have been the next. By Muslim standards, that should have been condemned as a blasphemous assumption.
When President Bush warned Saddam and his sons to leave Iraq to save its people from the imminent war in 2003, his remark made a good joke in Iraq. It became even funnier when, in response, Uday, Saddam’s eldest son, warned President Bush to leave the U.S. And when the sheik of the United Arab Emirates offered Saddam asylum to save Iraq another war, we found the offer insulting. “The sheik of the Emirates apparently doesn’t know Saddam very well. Only cowards would do something like that,” we said then.
When I think about that asylum offer for Saddam — and now Castro’s resignation due to his illness — giving up one’s dictatorship strikes me as bizarre and in some ways oxymoronic. In my experience, dictators didn’t resign or flee under pressure. They could be assassinated, overthrown in a coup or they could die, but they never just gave up their jobs. And I guess that is part of what makes them dictators.
WSJ
Besides, Castro was always lauded by Saddam Hussein and, as such, he had always been seen by Iraqis as a symbol of heroism (he probably came second after Saddam in that regard). As Iraq became isolated economically and politically, Saddam sometimes referred to Castro and how the U.S., despite all its might, had failed to bring Cuba to its knees. He said this was because of Castro’s leadership, his courage and his people’s belief in him. That was one of Saddam’s mantras. He told us the U.S. had vicious schemes to destroy Iraq, steal its resources and humiliate its people. But he said Iraqis could defeat the U.S. by copying what Cubans were doing in the face of U.S. pressure. The U.S. sanctions on Cuba had always been seen by Iraqis under Saddam as a symbol of America’s hegemony and arrogance.
In fact, no dictator was spoken of negatively or described as oppressive in Saddam’s Iraq. Arab rulers were all referred to as “excellencies”; China and the Soviet Union were our friends; and Venezuela’s Hugo Chavez was seen as another heroic Latin American figure, especially after showing his support for Saddam with a visit to Baghdad in 2000 in defiance of international sanctions. I remember watching videos of Saddam wearing a dark suit and driving Chavez in the Karrada district of Baghdad in a new black Mercedes.
Growing up in Iraq, we liked any official who was shown on Iraqi TV with Saddam. We considered them friends of Iraq and sometimes, especially after the first Gulf War and the imposition of U.N. sanctions, as heroes. Yasser Arafat was another regular in Baghdad. He was seen as a beleaguered and oppressed hero. I sometimes felt that if Arafat were to live anywhere other than among the Palestinians, Iraq would be his choice. When Saddam drove Chavez in the Mercedes, one place they traveled was on the then newly named Yasser Arafat Street.
Even dictators such as Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin were not spoken of badly under Saddam. We grew up being taught to admire their ambition and desire to lead. Information about their atrocities was repressed. In my high school I studied World War I and World War II in history class, but there was no mention of the mass killings committed by the Nazis. To the surprise of my classmates and professors, I only learned about the Holocaust, for example, when I came to New York in 2004 to study at Columbia University. Instead, we were taught about domineering U.S. and British regimes, which were cast as arrogant and belligerent in our media.
In Iraq, Saddam was seen as a demigod. His posters and pictures adorned the streets, walls and houses and first pages of school books. His statues were ubiquitous. He was the leader, the inspirer and the father. Most national songs were more about him than about Iraq itself. When my Columbia University professor drove me from the airport after I arrived in the U.S., I looked from the car windows for posters and statues of President Bush. He told me there were none, and I was shocked. At first, I thought he was hiding the truth so that I would think he didn’t like the Bush administration and was against the war.
Even today when walking in the streets of New York I sometimes find myself unwittingly mumbling an Arabic song about Saddam called “Our Father.” There was continuous propaganda about him, his visits and his speeches when I was growing up. Radio and television programs were dedicated every day to teaching wisdom from his speeches or reciting poetry about him. Posters and pamphlets with his quotes and recommendations were given away at Baath Party headquarters. His birthday became a holiday, and we celebrated it.
Many of us, in fact, found it hard to believe that Saddam would one day die. In moments of despair, I sometimes thought that things would never change in Iraq until I was old. I feared that I would never see my country with a leader other than Saddam or his son. When Saddam got 100% of the votes in the “presidential elections,” his vice president said something that many of us kind of already believed. He said if Prophet Mohammed wasn’t the seal of prophets, Saddam would have been the next. By Muslim standards, that should have been condemned as a blasphemous assumption.
When President Bush warned Saddam and his sons to leave Iraq to save its people from the imminent war in 2003, his remark made a good joke in Iraq. It became even funnier when, in response, Uday, Saddam’s eldest son, warned President Bush to leave the U.S. And when the sheik of the United Arab Emirates offered Saddam asylum to save Iraq another war, we found the offer insulting. “The sheik of the Emirates apparently doesn’t know Saddam very well. Only cowards would do something like that,” we said then.
When I think about that asylum offer for Saddam — and now Castro’s resignation due to his illness — giving up one’s dictatorship strikes me as bizarre and in some ways oxymoronic. In my experience, dictators didn’t resign or flee under pressure. They could be assassinated, overthrown in a coup or they could die, but they never just gave up their jobs. And I guess that is part of what makes them dictators.
WSJ
posted by madtom at 9:49 PM
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