Political Islam Put to the Test In Southern Iraq

A friend in the office chimed in: "And the sewage in the streets!"

The grim reality of Basra has proved a boon for opposition candidates. Over the four-day Eid al-Adha Muslim holiday that ended Sunday, some neighborhoods had electricity for an hour, if at all. One newspaper editor bitterly remarked that residents wouldn't know what to do with themselves if they had a full day of electricity. Water quality has improved, thanks to a multimillion-dollar reconstruction project, but a dilapidated delivery network means it is still scarce in some areas. Complaints about corruption are rife, and residents say a fuel crisis that has gripped much of Iraq is exacerbated by the smuggling of oil to the Persian Gulf.

But it's a prevailing sense of insecurity that nags at many Basra residents. Unlike the car bombs and mortars that have become a routine part of life in Baghdad, Basra is unsettled by a murky campaign of killings. Two men running in Sunday's elections in the coalition of interim Prime Minister Ayad Allawi were killed this month, and an elementary school teacher, Iman Jawair, was shot dead in front of her house 10 days ago, apparently for not wearing a veil. Khairallah Malaki, a police brigadier who serves as the local government's security adviser, estimated that as many as 10 percent of the city's 13,000 policemen were loyal to religious parties rather than the civil leadership, a figure deemed low by opposition parties.

"You can't raise your voice unless you can back it up by firing a bullet," said Abdel-Khaleq Karim, the producer of a call-in show on Basra's Nahrein Radio that runs daily from 10:30 to 11:30 a.m.

Who Is Responsible?

Islamic activists bristle at the complaints and insist the problem is not their mismanagement. Rather, they say, the interim government in Baghdad, the British forces occupying Basra and the law as it stands deprive them of the power they need to be effective.

"There is no authority in the city council to carry out its work," said Salah Battat, a city councilman.

Battat, a former resistance fighter, is one of the most well-known figures among the Supreme Council's new generation of leaders. He left Iraq in 1979 and returned after the fall of Hussein. Sometimes ill at ease in public, he speaks in generalities and has yet to shed the clandestine style characteristic of a member of an underground movement. In Basra and elsewhere, that quality distinguishes the Supreme Council from the grass-roots street swagger of the rival movement led by Moqtada Sadr, the radical Shiite cleric who enjoys popularity among poor youth here.

In a style familiar in Iran, Battat wears a gray suit with shirt buttoned to the collar, but no tie. Over his desk is a portrait of Abdul Aziz Hakim; a larger picture of Hakim's slain brother sits in the corner, near a table sprinkled with burned incense.

Battat acknowledged the local government's shortcomings but said the Supreme Council should not be singled out for blame. Despite having too little money and too little authority, he said he still takes pride in what the city council has done over the past year: providing $100 monthly stipends to 5,000 families in Basra with members who were killed by Hussein's government; delivering houses to 20 of those families; barring Baath Party members from working in the city government; and repaving and repairing some streets and bridges.

Then, in an unsolicited comment, Battat denied his party had any role in corruption or in doing the bidding of Iran's Islamic government, which Western diplomats say still generously funds the movement.

"You cannot say these parties are imported from abroad or that people fear them," he said, speaking softly and slowly. "We haven't taken any advantage from our position or appointed people on our behalf."

Battat paused for a moment. "We work in Basra," he said, "and we haven't found anyone who says these things."

The Role of Iran

The question of Iranian support is debilitating for Basra's Islamic parties, in particular for the Supreme Council, which fought on the Iranian side during the 1980-88 Iran-Iraq war and, as is bitterly recalled by some Iraqi veterans, oversaw prisoner-of-war camps. Some Supreme Council officials in Basra still speak Arabic with a Persian inflection, and many residents -- both religious and secular -- punctuate their conversations with rumors about the involvement of Iran's intelligence service in southern Iraq.

One rival Islamic party, an offshoot of Sadr's movement known as Fudhala, is campaigning on a slogan that is a not-too-subtle jab at the Supreme Council's perceived leanings: "Born in Iraq, Iraqi financed, with Iraqi leadership."