Iraqis Defy Threats as Millions Vote

Iraqi children in Baghdad's Sadr City neighborhood take advantage of the empty streets. Most cars were banned from the roads as a safety precaution against potential suicide bombings. (Hadi Mizban -- AP)

"The Iraqis will vote, and the dream we have fought and sacrificed for will be fulfilled," he said.

Despite the flush of optimism Sunday, hardly anyone in Iraq predicted a quick end to an insurgency that has roiled vast regions of the country and deeply undermined the credibility of the U.S. military here. An American official, who spoke on the condition of anonymity so he could speak candidly, predicted that attacks might intensify after the elections, posing what may be the greatest challenge to the new government and making it difficult to withdraw the 150,000 U.S. troops in Iraq.

"I think the insurgency is going to continue. I do not think it is going to stop. In some places, it's going to get worse," the official said last week. "This is a long-term process. There's no quick fix."

'Someone to Serve Us'

Intertwined with the issue of the insurgency is the degree of participation by Sunni Arabs, the longtime rulers in Iraq who in all likelihood will lack substantial representation in a parliament dominated by religious Shiites and the Kurds, who are predominantly Sunni but ethnically distinct from Arabs. Over the past month, conservative Sunni groups have insisted on a role in writing the constitution, one of parliament's main tasks, and senior Shiite leaders have spoken of bolstering Sunni participation in the government. The message was reiterated Sunday by both Allawi and Hakim.

"We don't accept any kind of marginalization of any group," Hakim said.

Initial ballot returns are expected as early as Monday, said Hussein Hindawi, the head of Iraq's Independent Electoral Commission. But the results will be followed by weeks of uncertainty as parties -- none is expected to have a crucial two-thirds majority -- jockey for influence in appointing a president and two deputy presidents, who will in turn name a prime minister and cabinet.

Time and again since the fall of Hussein -- at the start of the occupation, with the naming of the Governing Council in 2003 and with the appointment of Allawi in 2004 -- Iraqis have met change with optimism, only to be disappointed, and the pressure on the new government to address rampant joblessness and crime, persistent power blackouts and a two-month-long fuel crisis will likely be immense. For many, those issues take precedence over the more political questions of Sunni participation and the fate of the insurgency.

"We want someone to serve us," said Hussein Alwan, 44, a professor of business administration, who was standing with friends in the neighborhood of Karrada, where U.S. soldiers threw candy from Humvees to festive crowds.

He named his priority: "The economy. The economy will assure security."

His friend, Abdullah Taher, added his: "Try the officials of the previous regime."

Madhlum Husseini, a 32-year-old day laborer, approached. "Return sovereignty to the country," he volunteered.

For the moment, though, those challenges receded in a celebration of what many viewed as a moment when Iraqis saw the elections less as a contest to choose a particular party or platform and more as an exercise of rights long denied. To many, the vote itself was what mattered, that their very participation would set in motion a mechanism that could improve their lives. In some ways, the joy seemed even more palpable than after Hussein's fall, because Iraqis, not foreigners, were the agents of change.

Making Their Point

In the Sunni neighborhood of Tunis, where surprised election officials estimated that at one station 1,500 of 2,500 residents voted, 60-year-old Dhia Ali shuffled into the Aisha Elementary School. He had no idea who he was voting for; he said he only wanted to vote. Inside, the polling station director held Ali's shaking hand as he randomly marked the party of minority Turkmens.

"We have to show the difference between what we had in the past and what we can have in the future," he said.

The past provided a powerful discourse across Iraq, which has been ruled by a succession of generals and strongmen since the monarchy was overthrown in 1958. In Najaf, the spiritual capital of Shiites, voters answered a call by Sistani, who declared voting a religious duty. Voting surged at midday, with some polls reporting long lines.

"For the Shiites, it is the first time we could do what we wanted to do without pressure," said Yusef Abed Noor, 54, as he emerged with his finger stained. "This on my finger is a symbol of my rights."

In the Kurdish region of northern Iraq, where sentiments for independence run strong, voters jammed polling centers, some waiting three or four hours to vote. Rural voters walked miles in the winter cold.

Rabiaa Mawood said she and her daughters woke up before dawn in the village of Jootiar to get ready to vote.

In the courtyard of the family home, where about 30 neighborhood children, the village's only donkey and a herd of goats chased each other under laundry hung out to dry, Mawood, who estimated her age to be 50, wrapped herself tight in the black cloak that covered her from head to toe. When asked what she thought about the election, Mawood eagerly extended her hand to show her stained finger. It was her own testament to the past and the future.

"We want to choose a new government for the new Iraq," she said. "We lived for this day."

Contributing to this report were staff writers Jackie Spinner in Irbil and Cameron W. Barr in Baghdad, correspondents Steve Fainaru in Mosul, Doug Struck in Najaf, Karl Vick in Baghdad and Scott Wilson in Amman, Jordan, special correspondents Omar Fekeiki, Bassam Sebti, Naseer Nouri, Khalid Saffar and Sahar Nageeb in Baghdad, Salih Saif Aldin in Tikrit, Dlovan Brwari in Mosul, Hasan Shammeri in Baqubah, Emad Zeinal in Basra, Marwan Anie in Kirkuk and Sarok Abdulla Ahmed and Shereen Jerjes in Irbil.