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A Struggle to Secure Iraq’s Shared Past, and Perhaps Its Future A Struggle to Secure Iraq’s Shared Past, and Perhaps Its Future
(about 7 hours later)
BAGHDAD — Looted and shuttered after American troops seized Baghdad a dozen years ago, the National Museum of Iraq officially reopened its doors several weeks ago — a response to Islamic State thugs’ taking jackhammers to ancient treasures in Mosul. BAGHDAD — Looted and shuttered after American troops seized Baghdad a dozen years ago, the National Museum of Iraq has officially reopened its doors — a response to Islamic State thugs’ taking jackhammers to ancient treasures in Mosul.
The message was clear: Baghdad and its government belong to the civilized world, and the Islamic State does not. American officials even returned some recovered objects to show solidarity.The message was clear: Baghdad and its government belong to the civilized world, and the Islamic State does not. American officials even returned some recovered objects to show solidarity.
But public relations are one thing, daily life in the long-suffering Iraqi capital another. The reopened museum looks hardly changed since the Saddam Hussein era, notwithstanding tens of millions of mostly foreign money ostensibly spent on its rejuvenation, which went who knows where.But public relations are one thing, daily life in the long-suffering Iraqi capital another. The reopened museum looks hardly changed since the Saddam Hussein era, notwithstanding tens of millions of mostly foreign money ostensibly spent on its rejuvenation, which went who knows where.
The place was nearly empty one recent morning. Two visitors absently looked over a musty case of Neolithic bones in the vast galleries.The place was nearly empty one recent morning. Two visitors absently looked over a musty case of Neolithic bones in the vast galleries.
“It is a scandal,” Ali Alnashmi, who teaches Iraqi history at Baghdad University, told me. Some new installations, underwritten by Germans and Italians, point out by contrast how little has happened over the years.“It is a scandal,” Ali Alnashmi, who teaches Iraqi history at Baghdad University, told me. Some new installations, underwritten by Germans and Italians, point out by contrast how little has happened over the years.
A time capsule with yellowing labels and cracked walls, the museum tells a story about Sumerians and Akkadians; Nebuchadnezzar; Hulagu Khan, who destroyed the city in 1258; and Tamerlane, the Mongol warlord who sacked it all over again about 150 years later.A time capsule with yellowing labels and cracked walls, the museum tells a story about Sumerians and Akkadians; Nebuchadnezzar; Hulagu Khan, who destroyed the city in 1258; and Tamerlane, the Mongol warlord who sacked it all over again about 150 years later.
But the museum also speaks about Iraq today: its entrenched corruption, squandered fortunes and the slender thread of heritage by which the very notion of a single reunified country partly hangs.But the museum also speaks about Iraq today: its entrenched corruption, squandered fortunes and the slender thread of heritage by which the very notion of a single reunified country partly hangs.
That is because heritage is intricately bound up with national identity here. After all, what does it mean to be Iraqi at this point, with the country ripping itself apart and sectarianism remaking borders more or less arbitrarily drawn a century ago by outsiders?That is because heritage is intricately bound up with national identity here. After all, what does it mean to be Iraqi at this point, with the country ripping itself apart and sectarianism remaking borders more or less arbitrarily drawn a century ago by outsiders?
Baghdadis are quick to point out that, across sects and tribes, Iraqis share a lifetime of misery and death. But many also say they share a legacy, which the museum enshrines: Iraq as the seedbed of civilization, the source of writing and statehood.Baghdadis are quick to point out that, across sects and tribes, Iraqis share a lifetime of misery and death. But many also say they share a legacy, which the museum enshrines: Iraq as the seedbed of civilization, the source of writing and statehood.
This makes the museum more than just another collection of artifacts, a tourist attraction without tourists. The Islamic State’s rampage in Mosul, which horrified countless Iraqis, Sunnis as well as Shiites and Kurds, highlighted the point. It proved that ancient objects like the ones in the museum here still have potent symbolic, spiritual meaning.This makes the museum more than just another collection of artifacts, a tourist attraction without tourists. The Islamic State’s rampage in Mosul, which horrified countless Iraqis, Sunnis as well as Shiites and Kurds, highlighted the point. It proved that ancient objects like the ones in the museum here still have potent symbolic, spiritual meaning.
But there is also modern culture, itself a fragile concept. Once upon a time, Baghdad was a brick capital of 19th- and 20th-century arcades, parks and squares. Mr. Hussein destroyed vast stretches of the urban fabric, blasting highways through old neighborhoods, throwing up ghastly towers and even ghastlier marble palaces to house his bloated bureaucracy and to glorify himself. More than old architecture was destroyed.But there is also modern culture, itself a fragile concept. Once upon a time, Baghdad was a brick capital of 19th- and 20th-century arcades, parks and squares. Mr. Hussein destroyed vast stretches of the urban fabric, blasting highways through old neighborhoods, throwing up ghastly towers and even ghastlier marble palaces to house his bloated bureaucracy and to glorify himself. More than old architecture was destroyed.
“Baghdadis lost their values along with their neighborhoods,” is how Ali Mousawi, an architect, put it recently. Mr. Mousawi is helping to rebuild the southern city of Basra but lives in London, where he moved years ago to escape Mr. Hussein’s tyranny.“Baghdadis lost their values along with their neighborhoods,” is how Ali Mousawi, an architect, put it recently. Mr. Mousawi is helping to rebuild the southern city of Basra but lives in London, where he moved years ago to escape Mr. Hussein’s tyranny.
“We used to have beautiful gardens, but politicians gave the land away, public land,” Mr. Mousawi said. “We lost not just our shared connection with the ancient past. We lost our modern identity, too.”“We used to have beautiful gardens, but politicians gave the land away, public land,” Mr. Mousawi said. “We lost not just our shared connection with the ancient past. We lost our modern identity, too.”
Mahfodh Dawood, 74, a poet who used to work for the Ministry of Culture, elaborated on the thought. “The message of ISIS was that it wants to rob us of our identity,” he pointed out, using another name for the Islamic State.Mahfodh Dawood, 74, a poet who used to work for the Ministry of Culture, elaborated on the thought. “The message of ISIS was that it wants to rob us of our identity,” he pointed out, using another name for the Islamic State.
Mr. Dawood was sandwiched among friends one afternoon on the cushioned benches in a sunny corner of Shabandar Cafe, a bustling, smoky hangout for intellectuals in downtown Baghdad. The cafe is decorated with sepia photographs of old Baghdad and portraits of the four sons and grandson of the owner who were killed when a bomb blew up the cafe a decade ago. Where so much has been lost, the cafe’s reconstruction has been a trumpeted sign of resilience.Mr. Dawood was sandwiched among friends one afternoon on the cushioned benches in a sunny corner of Shabandar Cafe, a bustling, smoky hangout for intellectuals in downtown Baghdad. The cafe is decorated with sepia photographs of old Baghdad and portraits of the four sons and grandson of the owner who were killed when a bomb blew up the cafe a decade ago. Where so much has been lost, the cafe’s reconstruction has been a trumpeted sign of resilience.
“At this point, just about the only thing it means to be Iraqi is that you are responsible for the civilization that was here and goes back thousands of years, nothing else,” Mr. Dawood added.“At this point, just about the only thing it means to be Iraqi is that you are responsible for the civilization that was here and goes back thousands of years, nothing else,” Mr. Dawood added.
His friend Muyaed Albassam, 65, said: “Culture is a tool to reunite us. Although what can it mean in the midst of murder and sectarianism?”His friend Muyaed Albassam, 65, said: “Culture is a tool to reunite us. Although what can it mean in the midst of murder and sectarianism?”
“I’ll tell you,” Mr. Albassam answered himself. “When Iraqis see life in the rest of the world, we feel we are poor, worthless. We are No. 1 only in corruption. But we have this past, as the source of civilization.”“I’ll tell you,” Mr. Albassam answered himself. “When Iraqis see life in the rest of the world, we feel we are poor, worthless. We are No. 1 only in corruption. But we have this past, as the source of civilization.”
Several young men were clustered on a different bench across the room, smoking hookahs. “It is our identity, our heritage, yes,” Abbas Jabir, 25, said, “but a generation has grown up since 2003 that isn’t educated in this history, in this idea of national pride, and so is more susceptible to ISIS.”Several young men were clustered on a different bench across the room, smoking hookahs. “It is our identity, our heritage, yes,” Abbas Jabir, 25, said, “but a generation has grown up since 2003 that isn’t educated in this history, in this idea of national pride, and so is more susceptible to ISIS.”
Ahmed Khaled, 28, agreed: “We lost our history. We need to spread this message about culture as a thing that unifies us — if it is not too late.”Ahmed Khaled, 28, agreed: “We lost our history. We need to spread this message about culture as a thing that unifies us — if it is not too late.”
But which culture?But which culture?
That same day, Haider Fadhil, 21, was hanging out with friends in the leafy courtyard of a partly demolished municipal building along the Tigris, enjoying the shade of a tall clock tower. Armed guards at the entrance frisked families coming there to picnic and sunbathe in peace.That same day, Haider Fadhil, 21, was hanging out with friends in the leafy courtyard of a partly demolished municipal building along the Tigris, enjoying the shade of a tall clock tower. Armed guards at the entrance frisked families coming there to picnic and sunbathe in peace.
“The reopening of the museum means Iraq is not without hope,” Mr. Fadhil said. “Our history can bind us together, although for me, to be Iraqi now mostly means to have lived under Saddam, through wars, with sectarianism, to have lost friends and family — yet to persist.”“The reopening of the museum means Iraq is not without hope,” Mr. Fadhil said. “Our history can bind us together, although for me, to be Iraqi now mostly means to have lived under Saddam, through wars, with sectarianism, to have lost friends and family — yet to persist.”
The only two visitors to the museum on that day were Enas Jasim, a 30-year-old student, and a companion, Auday Abdullah, an engineer, 35.The only two visitors to the museum on that day were Enas Jasim, a 30-year-old student, and a companion, Auday Abdullah, an engineer, 35.
“We were nearby and just wanted to stop in,” Ms. Jasim said, by way of explaining what should not have seemed odd but was clearly unusual.“We were nearby and just wanted to stop in,” Ms. Jasim said, by way of explaining what should not have seemed odd but was clearly unusual.
Mr. Abdullah insisted, “People need to come see this.”Mr. Abdullah insisted, “People need to come see this.”
But the museum is closed on weekends, when most Iraqis might visit. Its schedule is hostage to civic service budgets, the director, Ahmed Kamel Mohammed, said with a shrug.But the museum is closed on weekends, when most Iraqis might visit. Its schedule is hostage to civic service budgets, the director, Ahmed Kamel Mohammed, said with a shrug.
He acknowledged that even schoolchildren are charged an entrance fee, notwithstanding many families struggle simply to scrounge up money for food and shelter.He acknowledged that even schoolchildren are charged an entrance fee, notwithstanding many families struggle simply to scrounge up money for food and shelter.
As for countering the Islamic State’s social media campaign and elaborately produced videos, the director referred vaguely to a Facebook page that some young Iraqis had created to plead for the return of looted antiquities, as if that had much to do with the museum.As for countering the Islamic State’s social media campaign and elaborately produced videos, the director referred vaguely to a Facebook page that some young Iraqis had created to plead for the return of looted antiquities, as if that had much to do with the museum.
“What we need is peace,” the director said. “Peace means security, visitors, money, pride.”“What we need is peace,” the director said. “Peace means security, visitors, money, pride.”
About that, there could be little argument. Before Iraqis ponder heritage and its implications for national pride, they need to feel safe, which is why, perhaps even more than the reopening of the museum, the opening of Al Mansour mall a couple of years ago is news here.About that, there could be little argument. Before Iraqis ponder heritage and its implications for national pride, they need to feel safe, which is why, perhaps even more than the reopening of the museum, the opening of Al Mansour mall a couple of years ago is news here.
Ubiquitous in many parts of the world but novel in Iraq, mall culture offers Baghdadis not just security. It also provides a rare semblance of normalcy.Ubiquitous in many parts of the world but novel in Iraq, mall culture offers Baghdadis not just security. It also provides a rare semblance of normalcy.
With air-conditioning, a food court, chain stores, a gate on the street, guards at the entrance, and a floor of rides and games for children, it is where families of different economic levels shop, eat, catch first-run movies or just walk around for a few hours without feeling quite as much that they are taking their lives in their hands. The multistory mall is Baghdad’s new urban center, mobbed on weekends.With air-conditioning, a food court, chain stores, a gate on the street, guards at the entrance, and a floor of rides and games for children, it is where families of different economic levels shop, eat, catch first-run movies or just walk around for a few hours without feeling quite as much that they are taking their lives in their hands. The multistory mall is Baghdad’s new urban center, mobbed on weekends.
So heritage is a tent pole for prospective nation-building, but mall culture, in all its banality, at least for the time being, is clearly another.So heritage is a tent pole for prospective nation-building, but mall culture, in all its banality, at least for the time being, is clearly another.
“We challenge ISIS by coming to this mall,” is how Mohamed Alzaidy, 28, described the symbolic relevance of the place. He and his fiancée were polishing off lunch from K.F.C. (Krunchy Fried Chicken). Mr. Alzaidy added that a unified Iraq someday must come together around both its heritage and places like Al Mansour, past and future.“We challenge ISIS by coming to this mall,” is how Mohamed Alzaidy, 28, described the symbolic relevance of the place. He and his fiancée were polishing off lunch from K.F.C. (Krunchy Fried Chicken). Mr. Alzaidy added that a unified Iraq someday must come together around both its heritage and places like Al Mansour, past and future.
In a nearby cafe, Sara Mohamed, a 28-year-old from Mosul, said she felt heartbroken by the Islamic State’s barbarism. As she struggled to explain, her friend, Tamara Saad, 27, leapt in: “We feel proud of our ancient culture in the way you have something in your house that you pay no attention to until someone comes into the house and destroys it. You feel devastated.”In a nearby cafe, Sara Mohamed, a 28-year-old from Mosul, said she felt heartbroken by the Islamic State’s barbarism. As she struggled to explain, her friend, Tamara Saad, 27, leapt in: “We feel proud of our ancient culture in the way you have something in your house that you pay no attention to until someone comes into the house and destroys it. You feel devastated.”
The mall, Ms. Saad added, “gave them a new life in Baghdad.”The mall, Ms. Saad added, “gave them a new life in Baghdad.”
Jaffar Darwesh publishes a magazine about Iraqi heritage. He talked about inspiring a new generation to feel pride and kinship because it is Iraq’s last, best hope.Jaffar Darwesh publishes a magazine about Iraqi heritage. He talked about inspiring a new generation to feel pride and kinship because it is Iraq’s last, best hope.
“You can’t expect Iraqis to protect museums and ancient objects in the ground when they’re desperate to protect themselves,” is how he put it. “But this shouldn’t exempt us from caring about our past. Politics have failed to create a national identity. Religion has failed. The sects have clearly failed. So who are we? That’s the question. I think history is partly the answer, it’s common ground.”“You can’t expect Iraqis to protect museums and ancient objects in the ground when they’re desperate to protect themselves,” is how he put it. “But this shouldn’t exempt us from caring about our past. Politics have failed to create a national identity. Religion has failed. The sects have clearly failed. So who are we? That’s the question. I think history is partly the answer, it’s common ground.”
Mr. Alnashmi, the Iraqi historian, put it differently: “It will take a great deal to bring us back together. But Iraqis are intelligent people. Our ancestors lived through disasters. We can do it again, if things do not go on like this much longer.”Mr. Alnashmi, the Iraqi historian, put it differently: “It will take a great deal to bring us back together. But Iraqis are intelligent people. Our ancestors lived through disasters. We can do it again, if things do not go on like this much longer.”
“If they do,” he added, “we are lost.”“If they do,” he added, “we are lost.”