Luke Wilcox2013-05-19T05:26:39-04:00Luke Wilcoxhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/author/index.php?author=luke-wilcoxCopyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Luke WilcoxGood old fashioned elbow grease.Minneapolis and Najaf: An Alternate Foreign Policytag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.12380812012-01-31T13:13:40-05:002012-04-01T05:12:01-04:00Luke Wilcoxhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/luke-wilcox/
In 2009, Minneapolis residents worked with the city council to approve a "sister city" relationship with Najaf, Iraq. A sister city relationship is about building peaceful relationships between the people of two cities. President Eisenhower launched the idea in 1956, when he called for massive exchanges between Americans and people of other nations.
Since 2009, Minneapolis residents have hosted seven delegations from Najaf for professional training and friendship-building, sent unarmed individuals ("citizen diplomats") to Najaf, and helped provide clean water to tens of thousands of students and hospital patients in the Najaf area. Projects and partnerships have developed between academics, businesspeople, artists and others in the two cities.
This February, six Iraq Ministry of Culture staff persons from Najaf will visit Minneapolis for training on event and festival management, coordinated by Meet Minneapolis: Official Convention + Visitors Bureau. Invited by the Governor of Najaf Province, a large delegation from Minneapolis plans to travel to Najaf in 2012.
As a staff member of the Iraqi and American Reconciliation Project (IARP), the Minneapolis-based nonprofit organization that manages the sister city relationship, I had the opportunity to travel unarmed to Najaf last summer, carrying with me a letter of friendship from Minneapolis Mayor R.T. Rybak to the people of Najaf and the governor of Najaf Province. Hosted by Sami Rasouli, the Iraqi-American director of IARP's partner organization in Najaf, the Muslim Peacemaker Teams (MPT), I helped teach English classes and visited local families for five weeks.
My thoughts after returning to Minneapolis were similar to those of a Najafi physician after he participated in a medical delegation to Minneapolis: "I am so honored to gain your friendship. Meeting with you made a great difference in my life and thoughts. Thanks for all that you did for me. Hope to see you soon."
These are small-scale efforts, but they offer an alternative to the narrative of American domination and superiority often present in our country's foreign policy. In fact, it is in part because they are small-scale that "city" and "citizen" diplomacy can see past the rhetoric and positioning of nation-based international relations. Our country and our foreign policy need the occasional, or frequent, reality check that we are dealing with people and not ambiguous entities called, "nations."
The relationship between America and Iraq (and America and the world) depends not only on our nation's actions, but also on the actions of our nation's communities. The Minneapolis-Najaf sister city relationship is a model of alternative diplomacy -- with a peace-building impact that would make President Eisenhower proud.]]>'Iraqi': De-Homogenizing the Labeltag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.9013772011-07-18T16:42:00-04:002011-09-17T05:12:01-04:00Luke Wilcoxhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/luke-wilcox/
One example is the category of "Iraqi" in American media. When the majority of printed pictures of Iraqis portray "terrorists" or scenes of death and destruction, "Iraqi" -- which is an incredibly diverse category -- can be reduced to "violent terrorist" in the minds of those who digest media uncritically.
During my month here in Najaf, my host, Sami Rasouli, has introduced me to many Iraqis who don't fit the category "Iraqi" as it has been defined in America. For the sake of exploring / adding nuance to that category, I'd like to share a little about a few of these people. They have invariably been generous, welcoming and kind -- perhaps better descriptors for the category of "Iraqi" -- but they are also diverse.
Fatin is a conservative, observant Muslim who visits the shrine of Imam Hussein Ibn Ali nearly every night with her husband, Wathiq. She is also a feminist artist whose paintings appeared in the exhibit "The Art of Conflict" in Minneapolis in the summer of 2010. She traveled to Minneapolis on a ticket paid for by a grant that the Iraqi and American Reconciliation Project received from the Metropolitan Regional Arts Council. In Minneapolis, she talked about her art and the experience of Iraqi women during the war, a voice that has often gone unheard. She believes that her faith empowers her as a woman, rather than the common assumption in the West that it oppresses her.
Hussein is a few years younger than me, recently graduated from the University of Kufa with a degree in chemistry. He is a student in the English class that I help teach and took Sami and me out for dinner after one of the classes. On the way he asked me my opinion of Nietzsche. I said I didn't know very much about him. He said Nietzsche is his favorite philosopher and asked if I knew that Nietzsche said, "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger." I thought this would be a hard philosophy to adopt in Iraq, although Nietzsche, who also said, "God is dead," might resonate with those who have lived through the tragedy of war. Hussein also explained to me the story of Imam Hussein, whose shrine I had visited with Fatin and Wathiq. Hussein was a grandson of the Prophet Muhammad who was killed in 680 A.D. for opposing what he considered an unjust ruler.
Hayder is also a few years younger than me and in the English class that Sami and I teach. He is a member of the national tennis team, has hair down to his shoulders and loves guitar. He and his family hosted Sami and me for one night in Baghdad last week. In 2007, militants killed his coach and two of his teammates "for wearing shorts." Hayder was not in the car his coach was driving when it was stopped by the militants. He didn't seem interested in talking about it, but he drove me, Sami and my friend Ali from the University of Baghdad around town. I felt sad at the evident destruction and disrepair caused by the U.S. invasion, but he and Ali joked about it.
During my first week in Iraq, Sami and I met with Sheikh Ahmed Kashif Al-Getaa, a Muslim scholar about my age who, along with his father, is interested in interfaith dialogue with counterparts in Minneapolis. Sheikh Ahmed is a studious, quiet man about my age. We both held the Tasbeeh, or prayer beads, in our hands while we talked. He asked me about my studies, talked with Sami about the Muslim Peacemaker Teams, and led us on a tour of the Kashif Al-Getaa Foundation's library. He reminded me a lot of one of my friends, a Ph.D. student in religion in the United States.
Rajaa works in Basra (Iraq's second largest city, located in the south) for the United Nations. Sami and I took a taxi to Basra last week to meet with him and visit a small private school. He met us in downtown Basra and took us to a nice hotel, where we would stay for the night. He refused to let us pay for our rooms. We walked around a few very crowded streets and then to a restaurant for carp, one of Iraqis' favorite meals. Kamel, owner of the private school and director of an organization promoting civil society in Basra, met us at the restaurant. I was exhausted by the time we sat down, but Rajaa wasn't even out of breath. He's 70 but looks like he's 55.
Mohammed Sadeq is 11 years old and likes to play Xbox. He is the youngest son of Ali, whom we stayed with for one of our nights in Baghdad. After dinner, Mohammed and his older brother Noor took us to visit the shrine of Musa and Mohammed Jawad Kadhem, two of the 12 Imams in Shia Islam and descendants of the prophet Muhammad. Mohammed wore a Simpsons t-shirt. Like the shrines in Karbala that I visited with Fatin and Wathiq, it felt like a very spiritual place. We sat down to rest in a large, open area underneath the shrine. People around us were praying, reading the Quran or sleeping. Mohammed and I talked about cars and Xbox games. At 11 years old, Mohammed doesn't seem to be too "religious."
Najim is the co-director of the Muslim Peacemaker Teams. He is also one of few remaining nuclear physicists in Iraq and currently teaches at the University of Kufa. He has accompanied Sami and me to many events, including a seminar against the U.S. occupation at the university on July 4 and a discussion about a new draft law on political parties in Iraq. He visited Minneapolis as part of the first Sister City delegation between Minneapolis and Najaf in September 2009, and he talks about the importance of people-to-people diplomacy. He also likes to make jokes, such as his joke that that Sami (my host who lived in Minneapolis for 20 years and now lives in a district of Najaf called Misan) couldn't bear to leave Minneapolis, so he had to find the closest thing to it in Najaf, "Misanpolis."
These are just a few of the people that I've met here in Iraq, but I hope they help point out that "Iraqi" -- or "Muslim," Arab," "Christian," etc. -- is more than just a category with definable characteristics. It is millions of individual identities, all with diverse histories, values and goals. If you haven't already, please de-homogenize your categories.]]>A Christian Embeds with Muslim Peacemakers in Iraqtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.8852272011-07-01T15:24:58-04:002011-08-31T05:12:01-04:00Luke Wilcoxhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/luke-wilcox/
Sami and I know each other through our jobs at partner non-profit organizations -- Sami at MPT and I at the Iraqi and American Reconciliation Project (IARP). The two organizations are based in the Sister Cities of Minneapolis, USA and Najaf, Iraq. They work together to rebuild peaceful relationships between Americans and Iraqis and support nonviolence in both countries.
Since its founding in 2004, MPT has accomplished a lot. It has provided clean water to more than 27,000 Iraqi students and promoted national unity through friendly soccer matches across Iraq. It held community roundtable meetings to discuss the new constitution in 2005 and helped stem the spread of cholera in 2007 through hygiene education. Recently, MPT began hosting Americans to live and work in Iraq as an alternative model of peaceful coexistence. This project is small compared to the scope of the American war on Iraq, but it is dissent against the hegemonic discourse of war. It is an affirmation that we are still brothers and sisters and that war does not have the final say.
My visit to Iraq is very different from the "visit" of most Americans. I came to Iraq motivated by the principles of MPT and IARP, an unarmed guest seeking to build respectful relationships between people. My American counterparts in military uniforms, while perhaps motivated by misinformed ideals of protecting their country, came to Iraq armed to the teeth, seeking to storm the country into submission.
On my first day in Iraq, I met no sergeants or lieutenants. I met a nuclear physicist, a director of tourism development, a professor of geography, an Internet cafe owner, 25 English-language students (among them engineers, a geologist, teachers and college students) and my host family -- Sami, his wife, Suaad, and their two sons, Redha and Omar. All welcomed me with big smiles. None were like the Iraqis on American TV.
On my third day, Sami and I walked along the busy streets of the old city. We visited the alleys where Sami grew up and met a number of his cousins still living in the area. We wandered near the home of Grand Ayatollah al-Sistani, the highest-ranking Shiite leader in Iraq, then visited the nearby Shrine of Imam Ali. We met with the son of Sheikh Abbas, an open-minded religious leader interested in interfaith dialogue with counterparts in Minneapolis. Later we ate on crowded benches at Abu Hayder, a small restaurant with five options for lunch. We carried no weapons and felt no danger.
Though I have never been inside an American military base, I imagine a day in the life of a soldier stationed there to be quite different. Between walls of Humvees and military equipment, with all kinds of power and armament, I imagine American soldiers feel less secure than I did walking around the streets of Najaf. I imagine a big screen TV streaming CNN, a basketball court, a cafeteria, a solitary room and imported items to remind the soldier of home. He is isolated from the people of Iraq, an occupier.
Sami has introduced me to many new friends during my first week in Iraq. The 25 English-language students that I help teach are eager to host Sami and me at their homes. Some of the students are similar to my friends in Minneapolis. Both Hayder in Najaf and my roommate in Minneapolis are pharmacists who complain about their customers. Sami's family is also becoming good friends. Sami's wife, Suaad, and niece Nahla laughed when I said I was going to ask my girlfriend in Minneapolis to make the Iraqi dish they made. Three-year-old Omar started using me as a jungle gym after I gave him a Clif Bar.
Friendship breaks down stereotypes and borders. But rather than making friends, my counterparts in the American military have made enemies. Rather than eating freshly prepared meals in Iraqi homes and getting to know Iraqis, they eat frozen, imported Kuwaiti food in cafeterias behind high walls. They remain imprisoned by stereotypes and misinformation.
Peacemaking is a sacred activity. By hosting me, an American, MPT members and friends affirm that we are brothers and sisters. Both MPT and IARP believe that we share a common humanity that goes beyond war and politics. Our activities are rooted in salaam, or peace, just as the word Islam shares a root with the word salaam. After the death and destruction in Iraq caused by Americans -- Americans still here, hiding behind walls -- Sami and MPT welcomed me here in peace. That is reconciliation that cannot be found with any amount of high-tech military equipment.
Sami Rasouli is the Founder and Director of the Muslim Peacemaker Teams in Iraq. He has also hosted Liz Wieling, an American professor of mental health at the University of Minnesota; Rose Aslan, a Ph.D. student at the University of North Carolina; and many others. He lives in Najaf with his wife, Suaad, and two children.
Luke Wilcox is the Development and Communications Director of the Iraqi and American Reconciliation Project in Minneapolis, MN. He is writing a blog about his visit to Iraq at http://embeddedwithpeacemakers.com. ]]>
Fatin is a conservative, observant Muslim who visits the shrine of Imam Hussein Ibn Ali nearly every night with her husband, Wathiq. She is also a feminist artist whose paintings appeared in the exhibit "The Art of Conflict" in Minneapolis in the summer of 2010. She traveled to Minneapolis on a ticket paid for by a grant that the Iraqi and American Reconciliation Project received from the Metropolitan Regional Arts Council. In Minneapolis, she talked about her art and the experience of Iraqi women during the war, a voice that has often gone unheard. She believes that her faith empowers her as a woman, rather than the common assumption in the West that it oppresses her.
Hayder is also a few years younger than me and in the English class that Sami and I teach. He is a member of the national tennis team, has hair down to his shoulders and loves guitar. He and his family hosted Sami and me for one night in Baghdad last week. In 2007, militants killed his coach and two of his teammates "for wearing shorts." Hayder was not in the car his coach was driving when it was stopped by the militants. He didn't seem interested in talking about it, but he drove me, Sami and my friend Ali from the University of Baghdad around town. I felt sad at the evident destruction and disrepair caused by the U.S. invasion, but he and Ali joked about it.
Rajaa works in Basra (Iraq's second largest city, located in the south) for the United Nations. Sami and I took a taxi to Basra last week to meet with him and visit a small private school. He met us in downtown Basra and took us to a nice hotel, where we would stay for the night. He refused to let us pay for our rooms. We walked around a few very crowded streets and then to a restaurant for carp, one of Iraqis' favorite meals. Kamel, owner of the private school and director of an organization promoting civil society in Basra, met us at the restaurant. I was exhausted by the time we sat down, but Rajaa wasn't even out of breath. He's 70 but looks like he's 55.
Mohammed Sadeq is 11 years old and likes to play Xbox. He is the youngest son of Ali, whom we stayed with for one of our nights in Baghdad. After dinner, Mohammed and his older brother Noor took us to visit the shrine of Musa and Mohammed Jawad Kadhem, two of the 12 Imams in Shia Islam and descendants of the prophet Muhammad. Mohammed wore a Simpsons t-shirt. Like the shrines in Karbala that I visited with Fatin and Wathiq, it felt like a very spiritual place. We sat down to rest in a large, open area underneath the shrine. People around us were praying, reading the Quran or sleeping. Mohammed and I talked about cars and Xbox games. At 11 years old, Mohammed doesn't seem to be too "religious."
Najim is the co-director of the Muslim Peacemaker Teams. He is also one of few remaining nuclear physicists in Iraq and currently teaches at the University of Kufa. He has accompanied Sami and me to many events, including a seminar against the U.S. occupation at the university on July 4 and a discussion about a new draft law on political parties in Iraq. He visited Minneapolis as part of the first Sister City delegation between Minneapolis and Najaf in September 2009, and he talks about the importance of people-to-people diplomacy. He also likes to make jokes, such as his joke that that Sami (my host who lived in Minneapolis for 20 years and now lives in a district of Najaf called Misan) couldn't bear to leave Minneapolis, so he had to find the closest thing to it in Najaf, "Misanpolis."