Neighborhood Watch on a national scale

Editor's note: Marc Knutson recently returned from a two-week trip to Iraq. He wrote a three-part series of columns reporting on what he found there. This is Part 2 of the series. Read Part 1, "Iraqis enjoy freedom from fear."

By Marc Knutson

What has happened in this part of Iraq that alleviates the obligatory "going to Iraq" lump in the throat? Quite simply, it is obvious that the Kurdish people have taken the baton from the liberating forces and are carrying it with extreme seriousness. They are not taking for granted what has been handed to them.

"We are a success story here," beamed an official with the Kurdistan Regional Government. "We have been able to govern our own land, police it and secure it, which makes it a safe place to be." We were seated in the official reception room of the Department of Foreign Relations. "What we have done is form a national agreement among the people of Kurdistan. We are tolerant of who lives among us; Shiite, Sunni, Jewish or Christian, it doesn't matter to us. However, they must pass a security check! What terrorist wants to go through a background check?" He chuckled as I left his rhetorical question unanswered. "See what I mean?"

That amounts to a Neighborhood Watch – on a national scale. Every man, woman and child has been "self-deputized" to monitor their neighborhoods. They watch for suspicious activities and report it to the police, who have the authority to investigate and the prosecutorial power in the disposition of cases.

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The Swedish chief project manager of the new Erbil International Airport complex put it this way: "The amazing thing is the Kurdish people. The whole population is security-minded and watching out for the bad guys."

My driver commented, "Since the first Gulf War and the Liberation, the entire Kurdish population has taken the torch from the Americans and is willing to self-police our country." My natural response was, "So, are you telling me that if all of Iraq took this posture, including Baghdad, this war would be over?" I knew that was a stretch of logic. "We are proud that Kurdistan is a glowing model of how all of Iraq can be. People living side by side tolerant of each other, in peace. It can happen – the more attention that is focused on our success, others will want to live in peace also." Then he added, "Remember, most of the people that are causing the grief in the South aren't even Iraqi."

(Photos: Marc Knutson)

I purposely tested the security claims on several occasions. My driver and I went out into the heavily trafficked shopping centers and malls. I tried to act like a shopper, and obviously American. I wore a coat and tie and stood out among the dark-haired crowd. Yet not a person approached me or whispered about me or confronted me. I went about my window-shopping unmolested. One side of me was grateful, of course. However, the other side saw just how secure I really was.

Perhaps the most poignant example of the safety issue was made as we traveled back to Erbil from Halabja, where I visited the site where Saddam chemically gassed people of the village. Halabja was about 400 kilometers from my hotel in Erbil. We stopped for dinner in Dukan, an obscure resort town. I was the first American in a long while, or maybe ever, to have visited that restaurant. There were a few glances, of course, but nothing dreadful or threatening. We were soon back on the road again, only to discover that our left rear tire was leaking air. Returning to the restaurant to utilize the ambient light, Hameed changed the tire as I shared friendly banter with some local young men. I was commenting on the billions of stars that formed a canopy above escorting us back to Erbil. It was then that Hameed posed the most profound question of the entire trip.

Silhouetted by the glow of the headlights, Hameed said, "So, Marc, here you are in the middle of nowhere in Iraq, considered by the world as the most terrorized place on earth. It is pitch black and, there is no town in sight. We are driving on the spare tire, with no replacement. You know that people saw you back at that restaurant. What are you thinking about your security right about now?"

Frankly, I hadn't been. I was caught up watching the stars and laughing about the quality of the road, which was about three notches above the Oregon Trail. Until that moment I hadn't been concerned, but now that he's mentioned it, I had to decide – is this a set-up because all this time he's been wanting to dump me in the desert? Or is he trying to prove a point? I elected the latter. That's when I discovered how the Kurds were fiercely prideful their security achievements.

I evidenced their strong patriotism toward their Kurdish roots, history and culture. All the checkpoints between Erbil and Halabja were manned by Kurdish Pershmerga soldiers. The Kurdish accent is difficult to imitate – a few questions by the checkpoint guards immediately determined whether you belonged or not! Along with my passport, I was issued an official letter of clearance from the Kurdish Ministry of Security, which allowed me passage anywhere within the region. Nevertheless, there had never been a concern for my safety at any time during my visit.

Read Part 1, "Iraqis enjoy freedom from fear."

Marc Knutson is a freelance producer and writer who lives in Eugene, Ore. He has traveled the world extensively, including post-war Kosovo. Knutson hopes to return to Iraq in the spring to videotape a documentary of the positive results he witnessed during his recent visit.