Musayyib and Iskandariyah, Iraq - 0130-3105
On Election Day groups of people filed through a gap in a line of concrete barriers toward al Yamen School, one of more than a dozen polling sites in and around Musayyib, a predominantly Shia city about 40 km south of Baghdad. Columns of concertina wire defined two pathways: women were funneled left into a makeshift shelter where they were searched (by a woman); men went to the right. An imposing man, bearded and very tall with an Olympic swimmer's triangular torso, stopped each male at the end of the wire. He wore a white armband issued by the Independent Election Commission of Iraq (IECI) over a black dress shirt. His hair and beard were immaculate. He met every man with a direct gaze, a smile, and a warm greeting, a salaam alaikum; then he searched them, patting here, squeezing there, swiftly but thoroughly. He treated each man with dignity despite his intrusive task.
I skirted the line after taking some photos and stepped over a barrier, assuming my Americanness granted me all-access privileges to Iraqi polling sites. The huge sentry immediately stepped toward me. He spoke to me, politely, in Arabic, which I do not understand, except for seven or eight words, none of which he used. "Badge," he said firmly in English. "Badge." The IECI, with technical support from the US, issued IDs for Election Day. As an unescorted embed, a tagalong with the US military without my customary Marine escort, I had nothing -- no badge, no uniform, no gun, no one to vouch for me.
"Sahafi," I responded, press, pointing at myself. He smiled, apologetically, I think. "Badge," he repeated. I rummaged through the traveler's pouch inside my pants and pulled out my passport. "American?" he asked. Yes, I said. He examined the beat up little blue book, handed it back to me, and then waved me through.
Little wooden desks and chairs filled al Yamen's concrete courtyard. Workers had dragged them out of the classrooms to create space for voting. There were no long lines when I visited, but each room was busy with a half dozen to a dozen prospective voters and several poll workers. Across town there was steady foot traffic toward other polling stations.
Election officials, mostly rumpled middle-aged men, directed prospective voters to particular classrooms at al Yamen. Inside, another poll worker checked citizens' names against registration rolls. (I assume that's what he did -- again my Arabic deficit stymied me.) Still another worker, a woman in the first room I visited, handed each voter two ballots, large printed sheets with dozens of entries. Each voter then stepped behind a cardboard "voting booth" to fill in the ballots. For many, this was a collaborative process: pairs, sometimes families, huddled, whispered, and pointed at items on the sheets before marking them. Next, an election worker instructed each person to stick a finger into a white plastic jar. Each withdrew a purple fingertip, proof they voted and, should one be so inclined, a bar to double dipping in the electoral process. Voters then slipped the first completed ballot through a slot in the top of a transparent plastic receptacle; the second ballot into another.
Initially, an election official barred me from entering his polling room. Others invited me in, as he later did, often with caveats delivered in a combination of English, Arabic, and gestures. No stepping behind the voting booth. No shooting the actual stamps voters made on their ballots. As many questions and concerns as I had about this election -- and still have -- this felt right. Seeing Iraqis in command was heartening after weeks of witnessing Marines and soldiers dictating to citizens, sometimes with military professionalism, but often with brusqueness or flat-out rudeness.
There were no other Americans in this polling station during the voting. US commanders had made it clear weeks ago that American presence inside polling sites was verboten. This was an Iraqi show, they told me, an Iraqi day. But the US presence was thick at the periphery of polling. Marines from Battalion Landing Team 1/2 and soldiers from the Mississippi Army National Guard, which will take command of northern Babil province when BLT 1/2 leaves, saturated Musayyib and other towns. The US election security plan called for the Iraqi Police to serve as the first line of defense (they guarded polling stations, inside and out); the Iraqi National Guard, the second line; and US forces, the third. In practice, the Marines ran the security show, directing teams of IP and ING to their positions and responding to reports of violence with teams of grunts in heavy vehicles.
Polls in Hamia and Jurf-as-Sakhar, towns west of the Euphrates River with heavy insurgent activity, didn't open until 4PM and closed at the decreed hour, 5PM. After the vote, some polling stations tallied completed ballots on site. Others followed the instructions of the IECI and brought them to Musayyib Police Station to count. There, the same rumpled men hand sorted ballots in smoky rooms. Some doors remained open, others stayed closed. I know very little about the grand electoral plan and procedures, and, again, I don't speak Arabic, so I don't know whether untoward things happened. I can say, however, that I saw some chaos and plenty of improvisation wherever I went.
There seems to be an assumption in the US -- and here among US military folk -- that the election was a transparent exercise in organic democracy when in fact it was something far from that. The vote was orchestrated by the United States, from conception to execution. Washington called the elections and dictated the timetable. On the ground here in Musayyib and throughout Babil province, US Marines were the logistical backbone for the vote. They liaised with US-backed interim government and IECI officials; planned and coordinated security operations; launched pre-election raids on homes of suspected insurgents; arranged transport for officials and voting materials; acted as polling station inspectors before and after the vote.
On a routine foot patrol the day before the election, an earnest and well-intentioned young Marine sergeant ordered a group of Iraqi men to rip down a Moqtada al Sadr poster adorning a concrete kiosk. "Tell them they'll have that in their streets no more! No more!" he shouted at the startled men. His Iraqi interpreter translated. The men dutifully yanked down the sign. Another Marine stomped it as soon as it hit the ground. "People are scared to take them down," the Sergeant reasoned. "They need to start taking the initiative for themselves." His action seemed impulsive, paternalistic, provocative, and potentially counterproductive. The initiative, after all, was his.
The election, such as it was, clearly meant a lot to Iraqis who participated. It may provide the foundation for a more equitable society. But it may not. We need answers to certain questions from our own government and the Iraqi interim administration before congratulating ourselves for our beneficence and before heading toward the exit strategy. What was the US role, from soup to nuts? Were voters coerced to vote for particular candidates? How were ballots gathered and processed at the grassroots? If proper ballot-handling procedures weren't followed, does anything happen? Will nonvoters across the country, presumed to be largely Sunni, let the election results stand? The subjects and implementers of Washington's Iraq policy -- the living, the wounded, the dead, and the soon-to-be dead, Iraqi and American -- deserve answers.
"There seems to be an assumption in the US -- and here among US military folk -- that the election was a transparent exercise in organic democracy when in fact it was something far from that. The vote was orchestrated by the United States, from conception to execution. Washington called the elections and dictated the timetable."
Seems to me you are confusing "security for the elections" with the electoral process itself. The US didn't want elections--Sistani did, and called in the UN. The UN recommended the system they got, and the UN helped train poll watchers, etc.
Posted by: David Holiday | February 02, 2005 at 02:31 PM