
Iraq at a glance: Iraqi Christians fear invasion backlash!
By Vivienne Walt,
USA TODAY
BAGHDAD — Saddam Hussein's visage
stares down at customers from a wall
above shelves of Johnnie Walker whiskey
and Russian vodka in Yonan Ibrahim's
liquor store. The Saddam calendar, showing
the Iraqi president in a Tyrolean-style
hat and firing a carbine in the air,
doesn't just keep track of the date.
It lets shoppers know that this Christian
shop owner is a patriot.
By Suhaib
Salem, Reuters During
the 23 years of Saddam's rule, Ibrahim's
fealty has served him and
hundreds of thousands of other Iraqi
Christians well. But as a U.S.-led
waragainst Iraq looks increasingly
likely, Ibrahim believes the Christians'
luck might finally be running out, along
with their leader's.
"
Until now this has been a very good
place to be a Christian," says
Ibrahim, 50, a soft-spoken man with
thick spectacles and a natty business
suit.
His father opened the liquor store
decades ago on Baghdad's Aqaba Square. "The
government likes us because we don't
cheat or lie."
As Christmas approaches, Iraq's 1
million Christians feel threatened.
Saddam, for most of his career a moderate
Muslim, is beginning to appeal to
the country's growing number of devout
Muslims. A U.S.-led war, the Christians
here believe, could pit orthodox Islam
against one of the Middle East's largest
and oldest Christian communities.
With many involved in trade, Iraq's
Christians are known for being trustworthy,
Ibrahim says. Ibrahim and other Christians
interviewed during two weeks in the
capital say they believe a U.S.-led
war would be seen by many Iraqis as
a battle between the Christian and
Muslim worlds. "People will think
we are with the Americans," he
says. Iraqi officials say there is
ethnic harmony in the country. Ibrahim
believes many Christians hesitate
to mention tensions publicly, for
fear of conflicting with official
thinking on religion.
In fact, Christians in this country
long known for its Western links and
secular culture already have sensed
a shift toward Islam. "Right
now, Christians are afraid of the
future, of what will happen. Most
of the Christians are preparing to
leave," Ibrahim says. Hundreds
of thousands already have. From the
moment the 1991 Gulf War ended, Christians
from one of the world's most ancient
communities began a stampede to the
USA, Canada, Europe and Australia.
About 1 million of Iraq's 24 million
people are Christian. An estimated
500,000 Christians live in central
and southern Iraq. That's 50% fewer
than the number that lived in that
area a decade ago. About 500,000
live in northern Iraq's three provinces,
which comprise a semi-autonomous
territory
governed by two Kurdish parties.
The area, which is under U.N. protection,
is patrolled by British and U.S.
jets.
Many of the Christians are Assyrian
Catholics, known as Chaldeans here,
similar to those in Syria and Lebanon.
Their liturgy is in Aramaic, the
language Jesus Christ is believed
to have spoken.
A large
number of Christians fled the economic
crash caused when
the United Nations imposed economic
sanctions after the Gulf War. The sanctions,
designed to prevent Iraq from rebuilding
its military, blocked all normal imports
and exports. Baghdad now has to barter
a limited amount of oil for goods. Many
Christians were businessmen and traders.
They were used to taking vacations in
Europe and driving new cars. Unlike
many Iraqis, they had the money to emigrate
or had relatives in the West to help
with visas. Ibrahim's brother lives
in Detroit. Others among his 11 siblings
have scattered to Canada, Australia
and Sweden.
The exodus of Christians from Iraq
slowed by the mid-1990s. Those able
to move already had left. Christians
who stayed hoped the situation would
improve. Having lived here since Biblical
times, they say life in Iraq has been
surprisingly secure since the Gulf War.
Until now, they've seen few signs of
prejudice.
But they fear a U.S. military offensive
could quickly lead Iraqis to become
far more religious amid anti-American
sentiment.
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"
I wouldn't choose to live in any other
country in the Middle East," says
Bob Shaya, 38. He runs a computer
parts store in Baghdad's high-tech district
with his brother Samir. "This is
the best thing about living in Iraq. There
is no differentiation between Christian
and Muslim." The Shaya brothers have
hung a cross next to the racks of software
programs, which they copy and sell for
$1.50 each. They say hanging a cross in
a store in the neighboring Islamic republics
of Iran and Saudi Arabia would be a risky
move. "I don't even like going outside
to nearby countries," says Samir
Shaya, 40.
Iraq has until
now been one of the most secular countries
in the region. Saddam's
Baath Party has a policy
of secularism. Tariq Aziz, the deputy
prime minister
and one of the Iraqi leader's closest
aides, is Christian. Christmas is an official
holiday, although only Christians take
the day off. Baghdad's art galleries openly
exhibit nudes.
Liquor stores like the one run by Yonan
Ibrahim have catered to Christians and
moderate Muslims — among them, government
officials buying for government
functions — who don't follow Islam's
ban on alcohol. Islamic extremism has
been heavily restricted under Saddam,
a Sunni Muslim who has always regarded
his greatest threat as coming from the
religious
Shiite majority that has close ties to
Iran.
Iran and Iraq fought a seven-year
war during the 1980s that claimed
1 million
lives. The West saw Baghdad as a buffer
against the fundamentalist Islamic leadership
that removed the pro-Western government
of the shah in 1979. Saddam, in turn,
saw Iraq's Christians as a counterbalance
to any Shiite Muslim fervor. Because
of their secular traditions, many
Iraqis
say they are baffled by the Bush administration's
claims that al-Qaeda terrorists might
receive help from Iraq. But cracks in Iraq's moderate Islamic
culture began surfacing a few years
ago. Some Iraqis have turned to religion
for relief from the poverty caused by
the sanctions.
Masterful
at sensing the popular mood, Saddam
has changed too. He banned alcohol
from restaurants and cafes, which long
gave Baghdad, a city of 5 million people,
a buzzing nightlife. The government-controlled
Iraqi television began broadcasting
hours of clerics reading the Koran.
Last year, a cleric went to the holy
Muslim city of Mecca, Saudi Arabia,
to perform a
pilgrimage on behalf of the Iraqi president.
And Saddam has spent tens of millions
of dollars building several mammoth
mosques in Baghdad. One is the largest
in the world outside Mecca.
Christians say they sense that the
shift toward Islam here has accelerated
since
the Sept. 11 attacks. They believe some
Iraqis identified with the strong anti-American
feeling. Others were swept up in a move
to more radical Islam in the region.
Ibrahim says his business has been pummeled
as people have become more observant. "It's
unbelievable, my business
has gone down more than 50% since Sept.
11," he says. "Sometimes I
can't pay the salaries of the workers."
In an attempt to bring some Christmas
cheer, a group of French missionaries
traveled to Iraq last week with the
bones of St. Theresa of Lisieux, a French
saint best known as "the little
flower of Jesus." She died from
tuberculosis in 1897 at the age of 24.
She was canonized for her devotion to
teaching
spirituality. Iraqis packed churches
to see the box of bones lying on the
altar.
In the Saint George Chaldean Church
in New Baghdad, a relatively prosperous
part of the city, about 500 people crowded
into the pews for a special Mass for
the bones last week. In a hall filled
with incense smoke, they crossed themselves
and chanted ancient Assyrian prayers.
For a brief moment, the community
was at peace. In his private office,
the
parish priest admitted the church has
been through rough times.
"
Our parish has 2,500 families. But it
is a lot smaller than it was 10 years
ago," said Habib al-Nofaley,
sitting at his desk in his long black
robes. "Many are leaving for economic
reasons." Whether they begin leaving
for political reasons, too, will depend
on what happens during the next critical
months.
Some fear a post-Saddam Iraq could
bring a far less tolerant country
toward Christians
if anti-American feelings run high. "Our
government likes us, and they protect
us," he says. "But if something
happens, we don't know what it will
be like. We are really afraid."
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