Politics
Lindsey Hilsum meets the boys in Basra
Published 24 October 2005
Basra is slipping from the grasp of the British. They may contain or absorb some of the violence, but not for long
The police chief had a jet-black moustache, a fat furry triangle on his upper lip. His eyes swivelled from side to side. He was sweating. He was a frightened man. He had arranged to meet British troops from the Royal Anglian Regiment in his office, but when they arrived, a small group of angry men in plain clothes calling themselves the Investigation Support Unit barred the way. The British were unwelcome. Unable to exert authority in his own station, the police chief slunk away to an empty building down the road. Questioned by journalists, he dared not talk about the men who had intimidated him. Everything was fine in his area, he said. Everyone got along; there were no problems.
That incident last week was filmed by colleagues who, like me, are embedded with the UK military here in Basra. They had been taken to see how relations between the Iraqi police and the British army had returned to normal, after last month's incident in which two British SAS operatives were taken captive by militiamen who had infiltrated the police force. What they witnessed, of course, illustrated exactly the opposite.
The British have known for a long time that elements in the Basra police force are behind the kidnappings and murders which plague the city. The Jamiat police station, where the two SAS men were initially taken, is renowned as the headquarters of two rogue police departments, the Internal Affairs Unit and the Criminal Investigation Unit, known all over town as "the Jamiat". In Iraq, all political parties have militia, but these are especially vicious, targeting journalists and secular activists. Loosely allied to the radical cleric Moqtada al-Sadr, they appear to be beyond his control, carrying out their own vigilante activities against anyone deemed un-Islamic.
The British demolished part of the Jamiat building in a successful operation to release their men but no one here thinks the raid has diminished the power of the militias. Several Iraqi policemen have since been arrested on suspicion of planting roadside bombs, which have killed eight British servicemen in the past few months, but there are plenty more recruits out there.
It's not easy to talk to people in Basra about all this, not least because it is too dangerous to wander around unescorted, so I'm always with soldiers. A few secular activists who came to British diplomats blamed them for "giving Basra as a gift to the Islamists". They were too scared to speak on camera. When I tried to ask people on the streets, most pretended not to know what I was talking about - those who criticise the men with guns are the next to end up with a bullet in the head. Some complained that the British had not respected Iraq's sovereignty when they forced their way into the Jamiat building. But a tall, thin, elderly man I met in a village south of Basra wasn't afraid: "Those people who believe in very strict religion behave very badly," he said, in hesitant, old-fashioned English. "They make explosions and weapons and kill innocent people. That is no good."
On the wall of the Royal Anglian Regiment operations room in the Basra palace complex, where several British units are based, someone has written in black felt pen "Lines to take . . .", a series of points to make to journalists. They read:
1) We're here as long as the Iraqi government wants us to be.
2) The Iraqi security forces are making good progress.
3) There is corruption but we are working on this.
The officers I've met here are too intelligent to believe this. The truth is they will be there as long as is politically expedient for the current US and British governments. The Iraqi security forces are loyal to political parties, not the Iraqi state, and there is little or nothing the British can do about endemic corruption. "We're just papering over the cracks," said one officer. "Our political masters were in such a hurry, there was no proper screening when we recruited the police. This is the result." Military press officers told us that security was nowhere near as bad as the media suggested, but - for the first time since I have been coming here - we flew everywhere by helicopter instead of using vehicles, such was their concern about roadside bombs.
The Americans and the British are hoping that December's elections in Iraq, which should bring to power a government that can serve a four-year term, will be their signal to start withdrawing troops. In the south, where Shia Muslims dominate and Iran is increasingly influential, the struggle between secularists and Islamists has been joined. "I used to believe in intervention, but here I just don't see what difference we can make," said a diplomat. The British were initially welcomed, but now they are blamed for what Iraqis say are the failings of the provincial government elected in January: rubbish lies uncollected in the streets, power cuts are frequent.
Basra is slipping from the grasp of the British. They may contain or absorb some of the violence, but not for long. The struggle for control of southern Iraq will be bitter and bloody, and there is little that 9,000 troops can do about it.
Lindsey Hilsum is international editor for Channel 4 News
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