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by
Robert Fisk
in
Baghdad
April
14, 2003
They
lie across the floor in tens of thousands of pieces, the priceless antiquities
of Iraq's history. The looters had gone from shelf to shelf, systematically
pulling down the statues and pots and amphorae of the Assyrians and the
Babylonians, the Sumerians, the Medes, the Persians and the Greeks and hurling
them on to the concrete.
Our
feet crunched on the wreckage of 5,000-year-old marble plinths and stone
statuary and pots that had endured every siege of Baghdad, every invasion of
Iraq throughout history only to be destroyed when America came to
"liberate" the city. The Iraqis did it. They did it to their own
history, physically destroying the evidence of their own nation's thousands of
years of civilisation.
Not
since the Taliban embarked on their orgy of destruction against the Buddhas of
Bamiyan and the statues in the museum of Kabul perhaps not since the Second
World War or earlier have so many archaeological treasures been wantonly and
systematically smashed to pieces.
"This
is what our own people did to their history," the man in the grey gown
said as we flicked our torches yesterday across the piles of once perfect
Sumerian pots and Greek statues, now headless, armless, in the storeroom of
Iraq's National Archaeological Museum. "We need the American soldiers to
guard what we have left. We need the Americans here. We need policemen."
But all that the museum guard, Abdul-Setar Abdul-Jaber, experienced yesterday
was gun battles between looters and local residents, the bullets hissing over
our heads outside the museum and skittering up the walls of neighbouring
apartment blocks. "Look at this," he said, picking up a massive hunk
of pottery, its delicate patterns and beautifully decorated lips coming to a
sudden end where the jar perhaps 2ft high in its original form had been
smashed into four pieces. "This was Assyrian." The Assyrians ruled
almost 2,000 years before Christ.
And
what were the Americans doing as the new rulers of Baghdad? Why, yesterday
morning they were recruiting Saddam Hussein's hated former policemen to restore
law and order on their behalf. The last army to do anything like this was
Mountbatten's force in South-east Asia, which employed the defeated Japanese
army to control the streets of Saigon with their bayonets fixed after the
recapture of Indo-China in 1945.
A
queue of respectably dressed Baghdad ex-cops formed a queue outside the
Palestine Hotel in Baghdad after they heard a radio broadcast calling for them
to resume their "duties" on the streets. In the late afternoon, at
least eight former and very portly senior police officers, all wearing green
uniforms the same colour as the uniforms of the Iraqi Baath party turned up
to offer their services to the Americans, accompanied by a US Marine. But there
was no sign that any of them would be sent down to the Museum of Antiquity.
But
"liberation" has already turned into occupation. Faced by a crowd of
angry Iraqis in Firdos Square demanding a new Iraqi government "for our
protection and security and peace", US Marines, who should have been
providing that protection, stood shoulder to shoulder facing them, guns at the
ready. The reality, which the Americans and, of course, Mr Rumsfeld fail to
understand is that under Saddam Hussein, the poor and deprived were
always
the Shia Muslims, the middle classes always the Sunnis, just as Saddam himself
was a Sunni. So it is the Sunnis who are now suffering plunder at the hands of
the Shia.
And
so the gun-fighting that broke out yesterday between property owners and
looters was, in effect, a conflict between Sunni and Shia Muslims. By failing
to end this violence by stoking ethnic hatred through their inactivity the
Americans are now provoking a civil war in Baghdad.
Yesterday
evening, I drove through the city for more than an hour. Hundreds of streets
are now barricaded off with breeze blocks, burnt cars and tree trunks, watched
over by armed men who are ready to kill strangers who threaten their homes or
shops. Which is just how the civil war began in Beirut in 1975.
A
few US Marine patrols did dare to venture into the suburbs yesterday
positioning themselves next to hospitals which had already been looted but
fires burnt across the city at dusk for the third consecutive day. The
municipality building was blazing away last night, and on the horizon other
great fires were sending columns of smoke miles high into the air.
Too
little, too late. Yesterday, a group of chemical engineers and water
purification workers turned up at the US Marine headquarters, pleading for
protection so they could return to their jobs. Electrical supply workers came
along, too. But Baghdad is already a city at war with itself, at the mercy of
gunmen and thieves.
There
is no electricity in Baghdad as there is no water and no law and no order
and so we stumbled in the darkness of the museum basement, tripping over
toppled statues and stumbling into broken winged bulls. When I shone my torch
over one far shelf, I drew in my breath. Every pot and jar "3,500
BC" it said on one shelf corner had been bashed to pieces.
Why?
How could they do this? Why, when the city was already burning, when anarchy
had been let loose and less than three months after US archaeologists and
Pentagon officials met to discuss the country's treasures and put the Baghdad
Archaeological Museum on a military data-base did the Americans allow the
mobs to destroy the priceless heritage of ancient Mesopotamia? And all this
happened while US Secretary of Defence, Donald Rumsfeld, was sneering at the
press for claiming that anarchy had broken out in Baghdad.
For
well over 200 years, Western and local archaeologists have gathered up the
remnants of this centre of early civilisation from palaces, ziggurats and 3,000-year-old
graves. Their tens of thousands of handwritten card index files often in
English and in graceful 19th-century handwriting now lie strewn amid the
broken statuary. I picked up a tiny shard. "Late 2nd century, no.
1680" was written in pencil on the inside.
To
reach the storeroom, the mobs had broken through massive steel doors, entering
from a back courtyard and heaving statues and treasures to cars and trucks.
The
looters had left only a few hours before I arrived and no one not even the
museum guard in the grey gown had any idea how much they had taken. A glass
case that had once held 40,000-year-old stone and flint objects had been
smashed open. It lay empty. No one knows what happened to the Assyrian reliefs
from the royal palace of Khorsabad, nor the 5,000-year-old seals nor the
4,500-year-old gold leaf earrings once buried with Sumerian princesses. It will
take decades to sort through what they have left, the broken stone torsos, the
tomb treasures, the bits of jewellery glinting amid the piles of smashed pots.
The
mobs who came here Shia Muslims, for the most part, from the hovels of Saddam
City probably had no idea of the value of the pots or statues. Their
destruction appears to have been the result of ignorance as much as fury. In
the vast museum library, only a few books mostly mid-19th-century
archaeological works appeared to have been stolen or destroyed. Looters set
little value in books.
I
found a complete set of the Geographical Journal from 1893 to 1936 still intact
lying next to them was a paperback entitled Baghdad, The City of Peace but
thousands of card index sheets had been flung from their boxes over stairwells
and banisters.
British,
French and German archaeologists played a leading role in the discovery of some
of Iraq's finest treasures. The great British Arabist, diplomatic schemer and
spy Gertrude Bell, the "uncrowned queen of Iraq" whose tomb lies not
far away from the museum, was an enthusiastic supporter of their work. The
Germans built the modern-day museum beside the Tigris river and only in 2000
was it reopened to the public after nine years of closure following the 1991
Gulf War.
Even
as the Americans encircled Baghdad, Saddam Hussein's soldiers showed almost the
same contempt for its treasures as the looters. Their slit trenches and empty
artillery positions are still clearly visible in the museum lawns, one of them
dug beside a huge stone statue of a winged bull.
Only
a few weeks ago, Jabir Khalil Ibrahim, the director of Iraq's State Board of
Antiquities, referred to the museum's contents as "the heritage of the
nation". They were, he said, "not just things to see and enjoy we
get strength from them to look to the future. They represent the glory of
Iraq".
Mr
Ibrahim has vanished, like so many government employees in Baghdad, and Mr
Abdul-Jaber and his colleagues are now trying to defend what is left of the
country's history with a collection of Kalashnikov rifles. "We don't want
to have guns, but everyone must have them now," he told me. "We have
to defend ourselves because the Americans have let this happen. They made a war
against one man so why do they abandon us to this war and these
criminals?"
Half
an hour later, I contacted the civil affairs unit of the US Marines in Saadun
Street and gave them the exact location of the museum and the condition of its
contents. A captain told me that "we're probably going to get down
there". Too late. Iraq's history had already been trashed by the looters
whom the Americans unleashed on the city during their "liberation".
"You
are American!" a woman shouted at me in English yesterday morning, wrongly
assuming I was from the US. "Go back to your country. Get out of here. You
are not wanted here. We hated Saddam and now we are hating Bush because he is
destroying our city." It was a mercy she could not visit the Museum of
Antiquity to see for herself that the very heritage of her country as well as
her city has been destroyed.
Robert Fisk is an award winning foreign
correspondent for The Independent
(UK), where this article first appeared. He is the author of Pity Thy
Nation: The Abduction of Lebanon (The Nation Books, 2002 edition). Posted
with author’s permission.