Despite a ceasefire between Party for Free Life in Kurdistan and the Iranian government, civilians displaced by the violence living in the Qandil Mountains in northern Iraq are wary of going home.
Iraqi journalists are harassed, beaten and murdered as the government takes violent steps to eliminate a free and open press.
A massive expansion of the US consulate in Basra suggests that the American presence in some parts of Iraq may actually increase after U.S. troops withdraw.
The Sadrist movement is gaining momentum in Iraq--thousands gathered in the streets in support of the Shiite cleric last week.
Iraq's top officials expect U.S. troops to withdraw completely by the end of the year, but Washington politicians may have their own interpretation of what that means.
Even as the U.S. draws down troop levels, concrete barriers still define Baghdad, a troubling reminder of the vast gulf separating the Iraqi public from the rulers ostensibly elected to serve them.
U.S. media outlets vigilantly covered the 10th anniversary of the September 11 terrorist attacks, but in Iraq, where civilians are still reeling from a violent war, the event goes unrecognized.
He wakes up at five in the morning and washes away his deep-sea dreams, the hot water spilling off his balding crown, running down his goatee and his bulky paunch...
David Enders, for the Pulitzer Center
Photo of minibus in July 2007, which according to Baghdad residents was fired on by a US military helicopter the previous day.
Yesterday, Democracy Now ran interviews Rick Rowley and I did with Iraqis in July 2007 in Baghdad's Al Amin al Ithania neighborhood following the killing of about a dozen people, including two Reuters journalists.
Print and Image by Dimiter Kenarov, for the Pulitzer Center
Baghdad, Iraq
Taking cover from death, I live in a tomb. My CHU (Containerized Housing Unit) is tightly girded by twelve-foot-high concrete T-walls. Right in front of my door, a slab of wall has been pushed slightly forward, like an oversize tombstone, so I can sidle in and out through the convenient gaps. The T-walls would not withstand a direct mortar attack; they should, theoretically, make me feel safer.
After the post-election glow, Baghdad is back in the real world. The streets are clogged with vehicles honking and people hawking. Men are walking to work (or, more likely, looking for jobs); women are out shopping (if their husbands are lucky enough to have jobs). The posters of politicians sag, peel off the blast walls, and fall face down, trampled under the shoes of millions.
Three days after Iraqis voted amid a barrage of bombs and Hollywood awarded Kathryn Bigelow’s The Hurt Locker six Academy Awards (including Best Picture and Best Director), I’m at Baghdad’s General Counter Explosive Directorate, the center of Iraq’s Explosive Ordnance Disposal programs.
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