New Paths to Power Emerge in Iraq

The city council is universally despised, castigated as corrupt and dismissed as impotent. Tribal leaders hold sway. On a recent day, the sheiks of the region's tribes met in Balad to negotiate blood money for 14 construction workers from that town whom al-Qaeda members from Thuluyah had executed with a bullet to the back of the head in 2006. But even the sheiks complain they no longer enjoy the same writ in a terrain shaped by force of arms and patronage that comes through ties to the American military and the government.

Khalil calls the perspective of the tribal leaders "limited."

That leaves Khalil himself, who is called commander by the 700 members of the Sons of Iraq in the region. In mismatched uniforms or civilian clothes, they man checkpoints on the town's main road, draped in bandoleers and waving walkie-talkies. He heads a council of 10 tribal leaders established last year by Maliki, the prime minister's tentative but far-reaching attempt to cultivate rural support. He said he meets with the U.S. military every two weeks. Each Tuesday, he gathers a council in Thuluyah with the mayor and heads of the police, city council and army to review security here.

"He has helped maintain peace and stability in the region while supporting the populace's need for the same," said Lt. Col. David Doherty, a spokesman for the U.S. military in northern Iraq, the region that includes Thuluyah.

At the city council headquarters, a simple building near the town's entrance, pockmarked by bullets, Jabbouri was more circumspect. A towering man, dressed in a checkered kaffiyeh, he represents Thuluyah's past. He was a general under Hussein, a veteran of the war with Iran. He is a lawyer and tribal elder. A council member, he has ambitions to sit in parliament. At first, he deflected queries about Khalil.

"This is a deep question," the 68-year-old Jabbouri replied.

But over thin cups of scalding sweet tea, the conversation unfolded.

"He's from a respectable family," one of his colleagues volunteered.

"What?" Jabbouri gruffly responded. "Is he the head of a tribe? How many houses belong to him? Five? He's not a thinker. He's more like an adolescent."

The criticisms tumbled out, growing in boldness. Khalil's conversion was akin to a cleric banning alcohol, then mixing the first drink. Money and power have made him a pharaoh. His guns, in the hands of his men, have left the city council with no qudra, or capability. Though elected to office, the men find themselves on the outside looking in.

"All we can do is write. We can't carry anything out," one colleague said.

"The Americans put him in charge," another added, too fearful to give his name. "They gave him the key. From where else would he have gotten it?"