Patronage and the Role of Government in Iraq and the US
Back when I was working in Iraq, in Iraqi law schools, a High US Official came to discuss the Importance of the Specialized Criminal Tribunal that would be trying Saddam Hussein, an Ambassador no less. As the judges and professors with whom I had developed a close, personal and professional relationship were excited to see the High Official, they went to the forum, which wasn't quite open but open enough for them to attend. They left confused, and reported back to me after it was all over.
"Doctor Haider, we didn't understand it at all. All he did was talk," said a criminal law professor I knew well from Basra.
"What did you expect?" I asked.
"Something. He comes in, and all he does is talk about courts and trials and Saddam. We know this. When people ask him for help in their courts, or the villagers ask for a judge, he doesn't do anything. He just says this is not his job. What is his job then?"
This was a chasm in understanding governmental function that recurred to me again and again, and continues to recur on every return of mine to Iraq. In Iraq, you go to the government to get things. When Jalal Talabani comes to speak, people come because they want a road in their village. Sure they expect some speech about the glories of Kurdistan (in the north) or the unity of Iraq (in the south), and they will listen politely and applaud at the right moments, but really, they're looking for patronage. My son needs a job, our neighborhood's roads are terrible, there's no water in our district. And Talabani obliges, the man comes with a load of cash, and passes it out to the constituents. Maliki too, or Saddam before them, this is what government is for. And so when a High Ambassador comes in to speak about Saddam, well the understanding is, he's not JUST going to speak about Saddam and his trial, how silly is that, he's going to help us out a bit. And when he doesn't, brows furrow and confusion reigns. Why is he here, is the question that arises.
The most recent recurrence of this came in the house of the Dean of Humanities at Suleymania University, where we had been invited for an evening. While relaxing amidst the plentiful mezze he and his wife had prepared, a phone call came in from Erbil, from a professor at a workshop run by an NGO (I'll spare them the embarassment of mentioning their names directly). I couldn't hear the other end of the call, of course, but it was obvious what the guy was calling about. I've been here a full day, he is saying, with this American fellow T., and so far all I've heard is a whole bunch of talk about peace and reconciliation. Is he going to hire us or pay us or not?
"No," the Dean replied. "This guy comes in, with all the money he has, and damn if he spends a penny on us, he keeps what the government gives him and just talks." The professor on the other end could then be audibly heard, saying that he was leaving the workshop then, upset at his having been brought there on false pretenses.
Now from T.'s perspective, this isn't fair at all. He is spending the money the government gave him in a grant precisely for the purposes intended. He is renting rooms at a hotel, he has hired staff, he's bought computers, he's flown out here, he isn't pocketing a penny other than his salary, which is less than he would make in private practice, all to help the cause of peace and reconciliation. Moreover, he considers the Dean an ally, mainly because the Dean is nice to him. The Dean assumes he's got a wad of cash and one day or another he might spend some on them, and if he does, great and if not, well then they are drinking buddies. The Dean isn't malicious, he genuinely likes T., but he does think he must be pocketing cash from the US. He doesn't think for a moment that T. might find all this workshop conference stuff a useful expenditure of money.
So T. continues working his 80 hour workweeks, and the Dean keeps humoring him, and answering calls from confused people asking when T. is actually going to do something for them, and on it spins. And, when the question comes to each of them, "what has the US done for Iraq", using only T.'s projects as the example, the Dean will reply "nothing, America has done nothing for us," and T. will reply with a laundry list of wonderful activities. Congress will hear and understand T. and find the Iraqis ungrateful, and the Iraqi Parliament will hear the Dean, and understand him, and find the Americans using funds intended for them misdirected.
On a larger scale, at least a partial explanation as to why Iraqis tend to think America has done almost nothing for them, and Americans think they've sacrificed enormously in blood and treasure. That has changed in recent years, as the US has caught onto the game and with relatively small sums built a public fountain here and a playground there, earning some goodwill and lots of interest in Anbar and elsewhere, but as this example shows, it hasn't changed completely. The chasm remains largely unbridged.
Last Iraq post will come tomorrow evening.
HAH
"Doctor Haider, we didn't understand it at all. All he did was talk," said a criminal law professor I knew well from Basra.
"What did you expect?" I asked.
"Something. He comes in, and all he does is talk about courts and trials and Saddam. We know this. When people ask him for help in their courts, or the villagers ask for a judge, he doesn't do anything. He just says this is not his job. What is his job then?"
This was a chasm in understanding governmental function that recurred to me again and again, and continues to recur on every return of mine to Iraq. In Iraq, you go to the government to get things. When Jalal Talabani comes to speak, people come because they want a road in their village. Sure they expect some speech about the glories of Kurdistan (in the north) or the unity of Iraq (in the south), and they will listen politely and applaud at the right moments, but really, they're looking for patronage. My son needs a job, our neighborhood's roads are terrible, there's no water in our district. And Talabani obliges, the man comes with a load of cash, and passes it out to the constituents. Maliki too, or Saddam before them, this is what government is for. And so when a High Ambassador comes in to speak about Saddam, well the understanding is, he's not JUST going to speak about Saddam and his trial, how silly is that, he's going to help us out a bit. And when he doesn't, brows furrow and confusion reigns. Why is he here, is the question that arises.
The most recent recurrence of this came in the house of the Dean of Humanities at Suleymania University, where we had been invited for an evening. While relaxing amidst the plentiful mezze he and his wife had prepared, a phone call came in from Erbil, from a professor at a workshop run by an NGO (I'll spare them the embarassment of mentioning their names directly). I couldn't hear the other end of the call, of course, but it was obvious what the guy was calling about. I've been here a full day, he is saying, with this American fellow T., and so far all I've heard is a whole bunch of talk about peace and reconciliation. Is he going to hire us or pay us or not?
"No," the Dean replied. "This guy comes in, with all the money he has, and damn if he spends a penny on us, he keeps what the government gives him and just talks." The professor on the other end could then be audibly heard, saying that he was leaving the workshop then, upset at his having been brought there on false pretenses.
Now from T.'s perspective, this isn't fair at all. He is spending the money the government gave him in a grant precisely for the purposes intended. He is renting rooms at a hotel, he has hired staff, he's bought computers, he's flown out here, he isn't pocketing a penny other than his salary, which is less than he would make in private practice, all to help the cause of peace and reconciliation. Moreover, he considers the Dean an ally, mainly because the Dean is nice to him. The Dean assumes he's got a wad of cash and one day or another he might spend some on them, and if he does, great and if not, well then they are drinking buddies. The Dean isn't malicious, he genuinely likes T., but he does think he must be pocketing cash from the US. He doesn't think for a moment that T. might find all this workshop conference stuff a useful expenditure of money.
So T. continues working his 80 hour workweeks, and the Dean keeps humoring him, and answering calls from confused people asking when T. is actually going to do something for them, and on it spins. And, when the question comes to each of them, "what has the US done for Iraq", using only T.'s projects as the example, the Dean will reply "nothing, America has done nothing for us," and T. will reply with a laundry list of wonderful activities. Congress will hear and understand T. and find the Iraqis ungrateful, and the Iraqi Parliament will hear the Dean, and understand him, and find the Americans using funds intended for them misdirected.
On a larger scale, at least a partial explanation as to why Iraqis tend to think America has done almost nothing for them, and Americans think they've sacrificed enormously in blood and treasure. That has changed in recent years, as the US has caught onto the game and with relatively small sums built a public fountain here and a playground there, earning some goodwill and lots of interest in Anbar and elsewhere, but as this example shows, it hasn't changed completely. The chasm remains largely unbridged.
Last Iraq post will come tomorrow evening.
HAH
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