Iraqi Christians fear rise of Shi'ites

Christian Century, May 31, 2003 by Mark Mueller

ARRIVING HOME from work a few weeks ago in Baghdad, Raad Karim Essa saw his furniture on the street. His Muslim landlord wasn't renting to Christians anymore.

"He told us not to argue and threatened us," said Essa, 42, a father of four. "He said the government was no longer here to protect us. What could we do? We feared for our lives." Added Amira Nisan, 38, Essa's wife: "The Muslims want to destroy us. I think we were better off under Saddam."

Such a sentiment is voiced increasingly today among Iraq's Christians, whose numbers have been estimated between 650,000 and 800,000. Like most of their compatriots, Christians greeted the fall of Iraqi President Saddam Hussein with celebration and hope.

But in little more than a month, their desire for greater religious freedom has been replaced by fear of the fundamentalism rippling through Iraq's Shi'ite Muslim majority, which has moved quickly to exert its influence after decades of violent repression. Christian women say they've been harassed by Shi'ite men for walking on the street without head scarves, and priests complain that Shi'ite clerics inflame religious hatred by calling for the expulsion from Iraq of "nonbelievers."

The most overt acts have been directed at Iraq's liquor stores and manufacturers, almost universally run by Christians. The owners of those facilities say they've been threatened with death for selling alcohol, forbidden under a strict interpretation of Islamic law. "I'm afraid for my people," said Bishop Ishlemon Warduni, the leader of Iraq's Chaldean Catholic community, which represents about 80 percent of the nation's Christians. The remaining 20 percent is composed mostly of Syrians, Assyrians and Armenians, plus a small Protestant Reformed presence. "During the war, we were not afraid like we are now," said Warduni, 60. "All Christians are in danger."

In the first week of May, Warduni expressed his concerns in a letter to President Bush, British Prime Minister Tony Blair and UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan. On May 13 the bishop was scheduled to make his case in a meeting with Jay Garner, the retired U.S. Army general who has been administering Iraq.

"We would like a guarantee of our rights, our freedom and our protection," Warduni said. "We have a 2,000-year history in Iraq, and that is now threatened. The fanatics would see us gone."

The worries are most pronounced in southern Iraq, a Shi'ite stronghold where clerics have issued the most strident calls for the creation of an Islamic republic. Underscoring the dangers, the Christian owners of two liquor stores were shot to death recently in Basra, Iraq's second-largest city, after rebuffing demands to shutter their shops.

But religious tensions are high and rising in Baghdad as well. "Ten days ago was better than a week ago, and a week ago was better than today," Warduni said. "I have no doubt that tomorrow will be worse. We're losing what little protection we had."

Under Saddam, Christians were permitted to worship but not to publicly express their views or proselytize. It also was forbidden to give children Christian names. While those strictures have been swept aside, Christians say they feel even less free in the face of growing Shi'ite pride and power. In the chaotic days after Baghdad's fall, Shi'ite clerics sent armed followers to patrol neighborhoods and to safeguard schools and hospitals from looting. Still under Shi'ite control, some of those hospitals now bear signs ordering any woman seeking treatment to wear a head scarf.

More disconcerting to many Christian women is the belief that they're being targeted for violence and rape by Muslim men. Parishioners and priests at a half-dozen churches in recent days told stories of women and young girls snatched from the streets in broad daylight. Almost inevitably, however, those telling the stories can provide no details, saying they heard them from a friend or family member.

The relationship between Muslims and Christians has grown more sensitive with the profusion of new mosques. In almost every Baghdad neighborhood, vacant buildings and former government offices have been converted into Shi'ite houses of worship. One such mosque, Jama Al-Wehda Al-Islamiya, or Unity of Islam, sits directly across the street from Warduni's church, Our Lady of the Sacred Heart.

Before the war, the building served as the neighborhood headquarters for the ruling Ba'ath Party. Later it was looted and partially burned. In late April the Shi'ites moved in, mounting a half-dozen loudspeakers that blare the call to prayer five times a day, sometimes interfering with church services across the street. The mosque's imam, Sheik Ali Al-Bahadili, said that while he is supportive of an Islamic state, it should be one that respects the rights of Christians and other Iraqi minority groups. He flatly rejected claims that Muslims have been targeting or intimidating Christians.

Sam Hanna argues otherwise. One morning recently the 43-year-old Christian arrived at his Baghdad liquor store to find a note that had been slipped under the door. "It said that if we didn't stop selling alcohol, the shop would be bombed and we would be killed," Hanna said. "They said alcohol was against God's law. Hah! It's against God's law to sell alcohol but not to kill people? They are hypocrites."