Insurgency Fades as Tikrit Focuses on a Fresh Start

Lt. Col. Jeffrey A. Sinclair strolls down “RPG Alley” in downtown Tikrit, chatting up shopkeepers and pedestrians. His Egyptian interpreter trails not far behind, forgoing a military-issued flak jacket and helmet in favor of a baseball cap and Polynesian shirt.

When the commander passes the gate of a government ministry, he hears something that would have been unthinkable in Tikrit a year ago.

“Tea?” a guard asks, extending the customary Iraqi offer of hospitality.

Last summer, Tikrit was the one of the baddest towns in Iraq, a hot spot in the emerging anti-American insurgency and a city that U.S. forces could barely enter in tanks without being shot at, much less walk through.

Today, Saddam Hussein’s hometown wouldn’t make the Top 20 list of Iraq’s most dangerous cities. As insurgents rise up in other Sunni Muslim-dominated towns such as Fallouja, Baqubah and Ramadi, Tikrit has remained relatively quiet, drawing praise from U.S. officials and scorn from some Iraqis.

At the 1st Infantry Division’s base camp -- a sprawling riverfront compound of former presidential palaces -- there’s an eerie feeling of calm these days. Mortar attacks, once a nightly occurrence, have all but stopped. Soldiers were recently told that they could shed their flak jackets on base. It’s been two months since a patrol was hit with an improvised explosive device.

“It’s gotten a lot quieter,” said Capt. Aaron Coombs, 30, a sniper squad leader from Addison, N.Y. “We sit around and brainstorm about it at night, but no one knows exactly why.”

American and Iraqi officials attribute the calm to a variety of factors, including a U.S. military waving around dollars instead of guns and a weary population that simply grew tired of fighting. Also, the Iraqi insurgency has shifted away from Hussein loyalists, such as those found in Tikrit, toward Islamic fundamentalists, such as those in Fallouja and Najaf.

Military officials say Hussein’s capture in December also dealt a blow to the insurgency in Tikrit, which had been showered with money and privileges under the former regime. Once Tikritis realized that they could never restore their old way of life, U.S. officials said, they began looking forward -- to what the Americans could provide.

“These are people who are survivalists, the show-me-the-money types,” said Sinclair, who commands the 1st Battalion, 18th Infantry Regiment.

So Sinclair has tried to do exactly that. He keeps $50,000 on hand at all times, doling it out to business owners in need of a loan or families who have fallen on hard times. The military has earmarked $58 million more to be spent on civic and community projects, including $43 million for the University of Tikrit.

“That’s the secret,” said Maj. Gen. John Batiste, commander of the 1st Infantry Division. “You can win over the former regime elements. You give them alternatives. You give them a job. If terrorists are paying these guys 100 bucks to take a shot at us, we just have to out-price them. Before you know it, these guys have been co-opted, and they’re part of the solution.”

Leaders and residents of Tikrit agree that the local insurgency has waned.

“I’m not even sure I can say there is a resistance anymore in this town,” said Col. Osama Adham, a police chief.

But Adham and other residents scoff at the notion that the U.S. military has won the town over with money. Resentment and anti-Americanism remain high in the city. “They have done nothing,” Adham said. “Though we hope one day they will live up to their promises.”

Instead, residents say that insurgents, at the urging of chieftains, began to scale back their activity, believing that it was counterproductive to launch attacks in their own backyard.

“We could act like those other cities. We could rebel,” said Abud Hussein Jassim, 46, who, like many others in Tikrit, is a former military officer. “But it will bring us nothing but more killing of our people and destruction of our city. Is that what we want?”

The new quiet in Tikrit has been noted in other areas, drawing ridicule from some Iraqis who say the decline in attacks here proves the city’s residents are “opportunists” who care only about money and privilege.

Criticism is particularly strong in the Sunni Muslim town of Fallouja, where insurgents battled U.S. forces in April during a three-week standoff that sparked a series of anti-American attacks around Iraq. Fallouja and Tikrit are both part of the so-called Sunni Triangle, where support for Hussein was considered to be strongest.

“The Tikritis should wear women’s clothes and carry purses because they are not men,” said Faris Fadil, 35, a Fallouja mechanic. “More than anyone else, it is their duty to stand and fight the occupiers because they were the beneficiaries under Saddam Hussein. But today they are closing their doors and staying indoors with their wives.”

Tikritis bristle at such accusations.

“The men of Tikrit are not cowards. They fear nothing,” said one Tikrit man, who would not give his name.

During the recent siege of Fallouja, attacks in Tikrit rose along with those in most other cites, peaking at more than two a day in April, military officials said. But even that was less than the surge seen in other cities.

“I just think people in Tikrit don’t care as much,” said one U.S. military intelligence officer. “In fact, I’m not sure that Tikrit was ever more active than other areas. It just got a lot of the attention because it was the birthplace of Saddam.”

He estimated that the number of insurgent cells in the city had dropped by half in recent months, and that they now consist of 40 to 80 people in a city of about 1 million. Attacks against U.S. forces in Tikrit this month are down about 30% compared with the average for the previous five months, he said.

Tikrit’s leaders say the city is looking for a fresh start. Because it thrived for the last 35 years on money and gifts from Hussein, the city lacks an economic base, such as industry or a trained work force. Most men took jobs in the Iraqi army, which was disbanded last year.

“Saddam forced everyone in the city to participate in his dirty work,” said Thamur Sultan Ahmed, chairman of Iraqi Republic Gathering, a private political organization working to help boost Tikrit’s economy. “Our young men were never taught to do anything but work for Saddam. Now we’re poor again. The people just want someone to help them with their suffering.”

Ahmed, a former military officer who was jailed by the previous regime for allegedly plotting with his brother to kill Hussein, said Tikritis were ready to accept the U.S. and work together to rebuild the city.

But in the waiting room outside his office, a handful of former military officers leaned back in overstuffed chairs and listed a litany of complaints against the U.S. for failing to provide security or electricity and deploying overaggressive military raids.

“We want the Americans to go,” Jassim said. “If not, the attacks will come back. We are patient. But we will not stay quiet forever. We will be back.”

In a stark reminder that violence can return at any time, a city councilman was gunned down outside Tikrit this month.

Military officials remain worried that insurgents from other cities will try to stir up the local population. A car bomb that exploded in Tikrit last month is believed to have been planted by people from outside the city.

“When they tried to escape, they turned down a street that was a dead end,” said the military intelligence officer, who spoke on condition of anonymity. “That told me they were from out of town.”

Sinclair agreed that it was too soon to declare Tikrit pacified.

“The lions are still here,” he said. “We just have to keep them in the chair.”