Bulland al-Haydari

Below are the first and last stanzas of a poem by the poet above. He was born in Baghdad to a Kurdish family and was active politically in exile. The poem reminds me of what is at stake in Iraq and that we must succeed. The kind of success I'm talking about seems to be getting further away, not closer. When I said something similar to a friend before the election, he said it was simply impossible that we would lose. Obviously this is true militarily, but a war fought in part to make the lives of its citizens better must do just that and if it doesn't is unsuccessful. People who call for patience are obligated to show that things are headed in a direction where patience would be justified. These weeks and months after the re-occupation of Fallujah will likely tell us a great deal about the wisdom of the present course and whether patience is justified. This poem talks about the absurd evil of Saddam killing his own people, but Iraqis are still killing Iraqis and we're killing them too. Lancet's estimate of 100,000 killed civilians may be too high. The Iraq Body Count project has high standards of proof and it number killed civilians between 14454 and 16604. That the military doesn't even attempt to count is shameful IMO because it says that the deaths of civilians is in operations is not up for consideration. The fact is, contra far left-wing commentators, that the military does consider civilian casualties, but the military, or more accurately its civilian policy-makers, seems oblivious to the disdain not keeping a body count implies. The importance of body counts to the citizens of a country is best demonstrated by the sanctity that the number 3,000 holds in this country. Keeping a civilian body count would open them to criticism about the price of the war, but not keeping one has the effect of adding to a building reputation of America as an inhumane power. Abu Ghraib was the biggest factor. The shooting of the unarmed insurgent/terrorist recently will also add to it. Being a humane power exacerbates the difficulty of certain aspects of the operation, but creating the impression that we are an inhumane power or worse being one in fact will have long-term effects that dwarf the difficulties created by humanity.

The City Ravaged by Silence
by Bulland al-Haydari
Translated by Hussein Kadhim and Christopher Merrill

Baghdad, that captive, forgotten
Between the corpse and the nail.

Baghdad was not besieged by the Persian army
Not seduced by a mare
Nor tempted by a hurricane nor touched by fire.

Baghdad died of a wound from within
From a blind silence that paralyzed the tongues of its children.

...

We will be executed in Baghdad's main square
With a signboard larger than Baghdad on both of our chests
(Understand . . . you may not be executed . . . understand . . .
you may be spared)
You are forbidden to read . . . to write
To talk . . . to cry . . . even to ask
What Baghdad means
What it means to be human or an animal
To be more than a stone forgotten in Baghdad
You are forbidden to be more than the two legs of a harlot
Or the two hands of a pimp.

Baghdad died of a wound inside us . . . of a wound within
From a blind silence that paralyzed the tongues of its children
Baghdad was ravaged by the silence
So that we have nothing in it, it has nothing in us . . . except death
And the corpse and the nail.