Friends, Family, and Foes
In Iraq, Shiites and Sunnis fight, but sometimes, they marry
The bride is a university student from a storied Sunni tribe, the groom a technician at an Iraqi cellphone company and the son of a prominent Shiite tribal leader. It could almost be a Baghdad version of Romeo and Juliet but with a twist--the marriage was arranged by their parents, in part as a willful symbol of defiance against the sectarian violence that has riven Iraq.
The unlikely nuptials might appear to be a doomed gesture in a place where tension between Sunnis and Shiites seems to keep escalating with random killings and tit-for-tat retaliations. Shiite families have been chased out of suddenly unfriendly Sunni neighborhoods, and vice versa. The sectarian strife has been aggravated by growing confusion over the loyalty of Iraq's Shiite-dominated security forces and a months-long delay in forming a new government.
But the wedding also serves as a reminder of the complexity of the Iraqi mosaic, where Sunnis and Shiites have long been deeply interwoven. Not long ago, a Sunni-Shiite wedding would have been unremarkable. But in today's Baghdad, it is a brave and fraught venture. For these two families, it also means wrestling with the uncertain future of their troubled nation--and placing what amounts to a high-stakes bet that, in part because of events like this one, Iraq will not descend into a full-fledged civil war.
When the prospective bride's father received the marriage request, many of his relatives were leery of joining with a Shiite family. But his daughter had known the family for a few years and had seen that they shared a similar political outlook. So the father decided to host a formal meeting with the Shiite family to evaluate their compatibility.
"One family." That meeting, with about 50 members of each family, went better than anyone expected. The atmosphere was festive, as women sang and threw flowers and chocolates over the heads of the men. The two fathers sat side by side, a striking break with tribal customs (which would usually have the two tribes facing one another). The Sunni welcomed the other family. "We Shiite and Sunni must be proud of each other. We are like a house--if one corner falls, all the house will fall, which is what the occupation wants," he said. "But today, we will tell them you are invited to see the unity of Shiite and Sunni."
The Shiite father agreed, blaming the new political parties for the poisonous climate. "I hate to see what is going on between Sunnis and Shiites, but politics and greed is what brought us to this level," he said. "It is an honor for us to mix blood with Sunnis, and from today, we agree on one thing--we are one big Muslim family." Caught up in the unexpected sense of unity and patriotism, the two families agreed to go ahead with the engagement on the spot, and the bride and groom exchanged rings. "May God save us from the harm of our enemies who want to separate us," said the Shiite father. "Today, we will say to them, 'Go to hell.'" Then the room broke out in singing and dancing.
As the celebration proceeded, the talk turned to politics. The Shiite father tried to reassure the Sunni family that the bride would not be treated like a stranger. Guests from both families commiserated over the violence. "We all forgot the groom and the bride and their happy day," recalled a guest, "and felt sad for what is happening to our country."
The formal marriage should be completed in the next few days, and the families are planning another party. But security concerns have overshadowed the initial euphoria; both families requested that their names be withheld.
Indeed, security fears seem to hang over just about everything in Baghdad these days. More and more businesses are closing, at least temporarily, after three weeks of violent raids by armed gangs on Iraqi companies. Some of the gunmen wore Iraqi police or military uniforms. Adding to the unease, a sudden street battle flared up in broad daylight last week in the hard-line Sunni neighborhood of Adhamiya. The U.S. military blamed a group of 50 insurgents, but residents reported seeing men wearing Iraqi security forces uniforms battling other Iraqis in uniform.
The problem, many Iraqis say, is that they are no longer sure which armed men to trust. Some of the police units are said to be infiltrated, or even controlled, by Shiite militias, while Sunni insurgents have also posed as police. "These days, if you shoot at them and they turn out to be police, you're ruined for life," says one Baghdad businessman. "If you don't, you're dead anyway."
Even among the official security forces, who are disproportionately Shiite, the mixed loyalties are never far below the surface. Take the 2nd Battalion of the 3rd Brigade in the Iraqi Army's 6th Division. Many soldiers openly admit their loyalty to Moqtada al-Sadr, the firebrand cleric, and his militia. One soldier, Feraz Zaydahn, even unbuttons his hand-me-down U.S. Army shirt to display a black T-shirt printed with a black-and-white picture of Sadr. "Moqtada good!" he says, flashing a thumbs up. "He's a just guy, and he is our leader."
This mostly Shiite unit patrols a Sunni area of Baghdad. To a man, they insist that they treat all Iraqis the same. But even the U.S. soldiers advising them say there are many layers of loyalty in Iraq. "If you were to say to any Iraqi, what is your No. 1 loyalty, it will always be to their family, and then you can ask what's your No. 2 loyalty, and it will always be to their tribe, and their No. 3 loyalty would be to their sect," says Lt. Col. Mark Meadows, who commands a cavalry regiment of the 10th Mountain Division. "No. 4 will be to their nation."
With Ben Gilbert in Baghdad, and additional reporting from Iraq
With Ben Gilbert
This story appears in the May 1, 2006 print edition of U.S. News & World Report.