"It's like we're talking to corpses and the deaf," the official said.
Like other officials in the movement, he rejected a role in the elections, quoting a statement by Sadr this month: "I personally will stay away [from the elections] until the occupiers stay away from them, and until our beloved Sunnis participate in them," the statement read. "Otherwise they will lack legitimacy and democracy."
Iraqis rallied outside the Oil Ministry in Baghdad Jan. 16 as about 300 followers of the radical Shiite Muslim cleric Moqtada Sadr began a four-day protest against fuel shortages.
(Mohammed Khodor -- AP)
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More is at stake for Sadr than the fate of an American nemesis in Iraq. The course he chooses holds broad implications for the country itself. His movement offers a vision that contrasts -- often very strikingly -- with that of Sistani, who has deemed elections the way to ensure power for Iraq's Shiite majority. By backing elections, Sistani has tacitly aligned himself with the U.S. vision for Iraq as a government with the legitimacy to extend its writ throughout the country and more effectively battle the insurgency.
Sadr's movement, almost obsessive in its opposition to occupation, rejects the premise of that vision. Infusing the worldly with the sacred, his followers celebrate what might best be termed embattled righteousness. In its most peaceful incarnation, the movement represents a critic that will push the demands of what it sees as its constituency -- the mustadafin and mahrumin, the oppressed and deprived, resonant terms in Shiite politics. In its more militant form, it presents itself as a force outside the system, challenging, perhaps violently, the status quo.
"Those hoping for something from the elections should instead seek God's help in meeting their demands," Sheik Nasser Saadi shouted to the thousands gathered recently in the Baghdad slum neighborhood of Sadr City for open-air prayers.
Along a four-lane street with a packed-dirt median, vendors sold bananas and pastries to worshipers, and a municipal truck with pictures of Sadr's father on the windshield pumped water for ritual washing. Boys hawked the movement's newspaper, Sadr, whose editorial asked: "Why is it the fate of Iraqis to bear either a dictator or destruction and death?" The men of the neighborhood gathered in a festive mood for a weekly sermon that, since Hussein's fall in 2003, has been one part street theater, one part political rally.
"We will all sacrifice our souls for Sadr and his son Moqtada!" the crowd chanted.
Saadi, the prayer leader, yelled back: "I can't hear you!"
The chants grew louder and more sustained, with men jabbing their fists in the air.
"God's blessings on you," Saadi answered approvingly.
In the hour-long sermon, Saadi reiterated the movement's stance on the election: no boycott, but no participation. More than a dozen independent candidates loyal to Sadr are thought to be running for assembly seats, and Saadi said followers could vote if they liked -- in vain, in his words.
"The elections are like air passing through a net," he said. "You can wait for the results, but I'm not waiting with you."
The clerics in Sadr's movement belie the image of the feeble priest. They are more street fighter than ascetic, more brawler than pastor. With hands like spatulas, crashing down to make a point, the barrel-chested, gray-haired Saadi challenged the worshipers.
"Do you accept the occupation?" he shouted. "Go and demand your rights!"
