In Iraqi Swing City, Hope vs. Defiance

But in the eyes of many Balad Sunnis, the dominance of the Americans in the process is unquestionable. "The Americans want the constitution approved," said Sinan Abdel-Wahid, a 35-year-old physician from Thuluyah. "If they want it to pass, regardless of what we do, they will pass it."

Divisions have emerged within the Sunni community over whether to endorse the constitution, with one Sunni party breaking ranks this week and calling for a 'yes' vote following a last-minute agreement between factional leaders in Baghdad. But in many respects, the constitution may be a sideshow to a greater drama. Unresolved are the community's long-standing grievances, the occupation at their center; in some ways, Sunni residents predict, their alienation may deepen regardless of the constitution's fate.

In the nationwide parliamentary election in January, Sunnis largely boycotted the vote, leaving them with scant representation in the National Assembly. A far greater turnout is predicted Saturday. But to many, their vote may be as much a rejection of the American-backed political process as an endorsement. "The Americans want to say we're making a democratic country, a new government, a constitution. They want to say this to their people. They want to showcase their success," said Ali, the doctor.

"The Americans are stuck in the middle of the mud, and they're trying to keep their face clean," added Abdel-Wahid.

Sense of Futility

Unlike in January, when insurgent threats and the boycott kept most Sunnis from the polls, Saturday's vote is being conducted in a somewhat more hospitable climate in Sunni villages, despite the recent bombings. Residents in Aziz al-Balad and Thuluyah said only a handful of threats against voters were posted at mosques, and most were ripped down the next day. In both places, residents said the overwhelming majority planned to cast ballots. But many spoke of futility in the vote itself, saying the election would only underscore their weakness.

"I'm going to be very sad on the day of the referendum," said Awad Mudhir, a 35-year-old resident of Thuluyah. "I will consider it the first day of Iraq's partition." He shook his head. "My sense is that there's no hope after that."

The objection most often voiced by Sunnis is that the constitution's promise of federalism will split Iraq into a Kurdish north, a Shiite south and a center populated by Sunnis and bereft of the country's oil. Others bemoan their lack of political clout and speak darkly of a government dominated by the Americans and led by politicians beholden to neighboring Iran.

"There's no stability. The government has no sovereignty," said Mohammed Ahmed, a 38-year-old accountant at Balad General Hospital, who sat with friends this week. "Only the Humvees and the tanks control the situation."

"A government minister can't do anything," said his colleague, Ahmed Marai, 35. "Even an American sergeant could kick him in the rear, and he couldn't do anything."

The men thumbed their worry beads, forgoing tea as they adhered to the dawn-to-dusk fast of the Muslim holy month of Ramadan. "What kind of sovereignty is it that dogs sniff our bags when we pass through checkpoints?" Ahmed asked.

Why would they still vote? they were asked.

"So that history can witness that we said no," Marai answered.