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Jihadist militants from Islamic State (IS) have burned to death 45 people in the western Iraqi town of al-Baghdadi, the local police chief says.
Exactly who these people were and why they were killed is not clear, but Col Qasim al-Obeidi said he believed some were members of the security forces.
IS fighters captured much of the town, near Ain al-Asad air base, last week.
Col Obeidi said a compound that houses the families of security personnel and local officials was now under attack.
He pleaded for help from the government and the international community.
The fighting and poor communications in the area make it difficult to confirm such reports.
Earlier this month, IS published a video showing militants burning alive a Jordanian air force pilot, whose plane crashed in Syria in December.
Siege
Al-Baghdadi had been besieged for months by Islamic State fighters before its fall on Thursday.
It had been one of the few towns to still be controlled by the Iraqi government in Anbar province, where IS and allied Sunni Arab tribesmen launched an offensive in January 2014.
Pentagon spokesman Rear Adm John Kirby told reporters on Friday that al-Baghdadi's capture needed to be put in perspective.
He said it was the first time in the last couple of months that the jihadist group had taken new ground.
However, Ain al-Asad air base, where about 320 US Marines are training members of the Iraqi army's 7th Division, is only 8km (5 miles) away.
The base was itself attacked by IS militants, among them several suicide bombers, on Friday. The militants were eventually repelled by Iraqi troops backed by US-led coalition aircraft.
In a separate development on Tuesday, the influential Shia cleric Moqtada Sadr announced he was withdrawing his forces from an umbrella group of Shia militia fighting IS alongside the Iraqi army.
He cited what he called the bad behaviour of other militia within the Popular Mobilisation Forces, whom he accused of "wreaking havoc through murdering, kidnapping and violating sanctuaries".
Shia militia have been accused of kidnapping and killing scores of Sunni civilians since Islamic State launched an offensive in northern Iraq last June that saw it seize large swathes of the country.
Decked out in his US army-issued fatigues and a lip stud shining from his mouth, the young American fighter cuts an unusual figure in the northern Iraqi town of Al-Qosh.
He served in the US army in Baghdad in 2006-2007 and has now returned to fight the Islamic State jihadist group with Dwekh Nawsha, a Christian militia whose name is an Assyrian-language phrase conveying self-sacrifice.
The 28-year-old, who goes by the pseudonym Brett, has become the figurehead of an emerging movement of foreigners coming to Iraq to support Christian groups.
Bearing a tattoo of a machinegun on his left arm and another of Jesus in a crown of thorns on his right, Brett jokingly refers to himself as a “crusader”.
IS never captured Al-Qosh — but it came close enough for its mostly Christian population to flee to the neighbouring autonomous region of Kurdistan, together with tens of thousands from Mosul and the Nineveh plains.
“One man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter,” Brett says, speaking from a Dwekh Nawsha base in the Kurdish city of Dohuk.
“But here we’re actually fighting for the freedom of the people here to be able live peaceably, to be able to live without persecution, to keep the church bells ringing.”
The mass exodus that took place in mid-2014 has put the continued existence of one of world’s oldest Christian communities into question.
With Kurdish peshmerga fighters now clawing back land around Mosul, some Christians are keen to take up arms for their survival and Dwekh Nwasha is only one of several recently formed groups.
- ‘Foreign fighters’ battalion’ -
Also acting as a recruiter, Brett says he wants to establish a “foreign fighters’ battalion”.
In his first week in charge, he brought in five volunteers from the United States, Britain and Canada, all of whom he says have military or contracting experience.
The foreign contingent is tiny compared to the thousands of foreigners who have joined IS, but interest is growing and Brett says he has 20 more volunteers already lined up to join.
Brett’s first recruit was Louis Park, a mild-mannered Texan who retired from the Marines in December.
“I did not adjust well at peace time,” he said with dipping tobacco tucked in his lip. “I wanted to get back out here.”
After serving in Afghanistan, Park says he was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder “and some other things” that barred him from combat deployments.
As early as October 2014, he began saving money to join the fight against IS.
Park says he travelled to Iraq to continue defending his country, even though Dwekh Nawsha — with barely a few hundred fighters in its ranks — sees little frontline action.
“I’m patriotic as hell,” he says. “If my government won’t fight them I will.”
The growing contingent of foreign recruits have a variety of reasons for joining Dwekh Nawsha.
Andrew, an older man from Ontario, Canada, came because he heard about “slaughterhouses” where IS allegedly cuts people up for organ trafficking.
There is no evidence that such places exist but the rumour has been widely circulated by evangelical and anti-Islam organisations, especially in North America.
A video showing the beheading of 21 Coptic Christians by IS in Libya released on Sunday and entitled “A message signed with blood to the nation of the cross” sparked a fresh surge of calls on social media for tougher Western action.
- ‘Internet cowboys’ -
One seven-year US army veteran called Scott says he was planning to join the Syria-based Kurdish “Popular Protection Units” (YPG) until he found out they were “a bunch of damn Reds”.
Other foreigners in Dwekh Nawsha say they were turned off by what they see as the socialist streak in the YPG, an affiliate of Turkey’s Kurdistan Workers’ Party whose months-long battle against IS in Kobane attracted many volunteers.
Alan Duncan, a prominent British foreign fighter and veteran of the Royal Irish Regiment, recently left the YPG for similar reasons.
He told AFP that an exodus of foreign fighters from the YPG has begun, naming several well-known volunteers currently fighting for the group he says plan to leave in the coming days.
Jordan Matson, a former US soldier who has become the poster boy of YPG foreign fighters, argued that some volunteers may have lost their bottle when confronted with the intensity of the fighting in Kobane.
“Most of the Internet cowboys have come to realise this isn’t a normal deployment,” he told AFP. “So they lose the stomach to come or stay.”
Young American fighters are among the Western recruits who have returned to Iraq to fight the Islamist State jihadist group alongside Dwekh Nawsha, a Christian militia.
The Iraqi city of Mosul was taken over by Islamic State last summer – but now the government forces are pushing back.
Twelve years have passed since the terrible decision to invade Iraq in 2003. When I add up all my visits to Baghdad during that time I find I have spent two full years of my life here. That’s a long time to observe so much bloodshed and misery. But now, for the first time, I am starting to wonder whether things are changing.
The other night I wandered around the main shopping street in Karada, the Kensington of Baghdad. The lights blazed out from every shop along the way and half the pavement space was taken up with goods for sale: shoes, handbags, sweets, jackets, scarves. A river of people wandered in both directions along the street, past the cafés and restaurants where diners leaned back in their plastic chairs and gave themselves over to the pleasures of eating, drinking tea and talking. The laughter drowned out the blaring horns from the slow-moving, nose-to-tail cars, and children played and danced and tried to drag their parents over to look at the toys on show. There was a certain amount of beer-drinking going on. It was a Thursday night, and everyone was determined to have a good time. They had something to celebrate, you see: this was the first weekend since the nightly curfew had been abolished.
Iraq’s new prime minister, the short and bouncy Haider al-Abadi, is a British-trained engineer who, as an exile from Saddam Hussein, used to run a highly successful business in London building lifts and designing transportation systems. It was his decision to lift the curfew in order to show people in the most practical way that things were getting better. His predecessor and rival Nouri al-Maliki, more gloomy and bitter than ever after being pushed out of office last summer, argued strongly against it. Still, it seems to be working. The people of Baghdad are being given a glimpse of what life might be, if only Iraq could free itself from terrorism.
Inevitably, Islamic State staged a couple of suicide bombings to remind everyone how short and cruel life can be here. There might have been a third suicide attack to mark the end of the curfew, but the bomber who was to have carried it out was captured just as he was getting ready for his mission. A few days later my team and I were allowed into a top-security interrogation centre near Baghdad Airport to meet the suicide bomber who had failed.
A sign on the wall showed that this was known as Camp Cropper during the American days. At that time it was known, inevitably, by an acronym: it was an HVD, or “high-value detention site”. There were three of these sites worldwide: Guantanamo; Abu Ghraib, in another part of Baghdad, where the American soldier Lynndie England took her pornographic selfies with pyramids of naked, traumatised prisoners, and where the guards laughed as they set their dogs on them; and Camp Cropper. This is where Saddam Hussein was held before his execution. God knows what else used to happen here.
It has been expanded since those days; well over a thousand prisoners are now held at Cropper, mostly from al-Qaeda and Islamic State. A smiling senior officer with more trophies and statuettes on his shelves than Manchester United, plus a framed certificate from MI6 behind his desk, explained that the new guards don’t torture or ill-treat prisoners. Then we were taken to a conference room and set up our camera. There was a shuffling sound in the corridor and a slight figure in bright yellow overalls, blindfolded and handcuffed, was ushered in. His guard was all in black, and wore a black balaclava. The sight of them was a shock: it was a reversal of all those disgusting IS videos of people in brightly coloured overalls being led to their death by men in black. The difference here was, the prisoner in front of us had been groomed by Islamic State to murder ordinary people in a Shia mosque.
The guard took off the prisoner’s blindfold. He blinked in the sudden light and looked uncomprehendingly at the camera and at me, sitting a few feet away from him. It certainly didn’t look as though he had been ill-treated; he was so passive, I don’t imagine it would have been necessary. And he was painfully young: 17, though he looked even less than that. My two colleagues and I, each of us a father of a son, felt a sharp stab of pity for him.
His name was Zakariya al-Rawi, and his story was sad and squalid. He had run away from home after rowing with his parents and gone to a nearby town that was occupied by Islamic State. An IS loudspeaker van drove up and down the streets constantly, calling on people to volunteer to serve Islam. That filled Zakariya with a new sense of purpose. He joined up, together with friends.
The recruiters gave him some basic military training but it is clear what they wanted: suicide fodder. They must have detected his weakness of character, his uncertainties, his innocence, and they started to work on him, telling him that Shia Muslims were heretics who had to be extirpated, the enemies of Sunni Muslims like Zakariya and his friends. He believed them.
“They promised me I’d go straight to heaven, without being judged.”
You didn’t ask them why, if being a suicide bomber was so wonderful, they didn’t want to do it themselves?
“No.”
Were you scared?
“Yes, very.”
How old were the others who decided to volunteer?
“Most of them were like me, or younger.”
How young?
“Fourteen, 15, 16.”
I asked him what his father and mother would have thought about what he had become. Tears came to his eyes: he suddenly stopped being a terrorist. Now, he was just a kid who had upset his parents and didn’t know how to get home.
His IS minders took him to Baghdad, put him up at a safe house, and taught him how to use an explosive vest. He had to keep his thumb on the trigger of the bomb. Directly he raised it, the bomb would go off. And at that instant, they said, without needing to go through the process of having his life and actions judged, he would find himself in paradise. It might not have been particularly good theology, but it worked.
They gave him a pistol, in case the guards at the Shia mosque tried to stop him. He was to shoot them, then run over to where the crowd of worshippers was thickest and detonate the bomb.
You were fully prepared to kill women and children, as well as men? I asked.
“Yes, sir.”
His voice was scarcely audible now and the tears were running unchecked down his face. His eyes were fixed on his manacled hands and he spoke in whispers.
Why are you crying?
“Because I’m so sorry for all this.”
You’re ashamed of what you were going to do?
“Yes, sir.”
Before he could leave for his mission, the safe house was raided and he was captured. He wasn’t beaten or threatened; there was no need. The interrogators treated him kindly and showed him that Shia Muslims were much the same as the Sunnis he had grown up with. He’ll get a short prison sentence; after that, he’ll be free to make something of his dysfunctional life. If he can.
Over these 12 years, things in Iraq have gone from bad to horrific to bad again. There’s never been anything approaching peace; and then, last year, Islamic State erupted into Iraq and captured its third most important city, Mosul. After that there was huge panic in Baghdad. IS volunteers came hurtling down the motorway southwards in the direction of the capital.
When I arrived a few days later, there were neat security notices on the walls of the office the BBC shares with the New York Times, calmly listing the places where we should take refuge if IS captured Baghdad. The notices are still there, but only because no one has bothered to take them down. Baghdad now seems much safer and IS is being pushed back on most fronts – especially in Diyala province, due north of the capital. IS came close here – not as close as it still is around Fallujah, to the west, but worrying all the same.
Last month, however, a brisk campaign drove IS out of Diyala altogether. Iraqi planes hammered IS positions in towns such as Muqdadiya and Mansourieh, and ground forces moved north out of Baghdad and simply rolled them up. The IS fighters hightailed it for the western Anbar province, huge and sparsely populated, where they have some support among the largely Sunni population.
But even though they have gone, they are still striking at the army and people in Diyala through the booby-trap bombs they left behind. We visited Mansourieh two weeks after IS had fled, but that day a roadside bomb went off, killing one person in a passing car and injuring the other occupants. When we got to the site of the explosion we spotted what seemed to be another bomb in a plastic container close by, with wires snaking away from it towards the road.
Is the Iraqi army capable of defeating IS? On this showing, certainly. The disaster in Mosul last June was largely the result of a grave failure of judgement by the then prime minister, al-Maliki. As a Shia with a disturbingly sectarian approach, he sacked as many Sunni officers as he could and replaced them with less well-trained Shia equivalents; perhaps he was worried about a coup. His successor, Haider al-Abadi, is also a Shia, but directly he took over as prime minister in September he started bringing Sunni officers back into the army.
He is also tackling the problem of the Shia militias, which are sometimes accused of murdering Sunni civilians. He has had some success in setting up integrated units that mix Sunnis, Kurds and Shias indiscriminately. “Our only loyalty is to Iraq,” said one politician sententiously as 50 mildly shambolic figures marched across a parade ground for the benefit of our camera. It’s a start, though some Shia leaders are now threatening to pull their men out of the new units. In Iraq, small-time politics often cancels out the national interest.
In the next few weeks or months (he is too cautious to say when), Abadi will launch a military campaign to recapture Mosul. IS will fight hard to keep it. Mosul is Islamic State’s capital in Iraq, the place where Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, the city’s self-styled caliph, announced the establishment of his caliphate. Chased out of Mosul, IS in Iraq will be just a scattered gang of bandits.
The chances must be reasonably good that it will happen. IS’s strength lies in its total commitment and extreme savagery; it has no fallback position, no possibility of modifying its approach or compromising. In that sense, it is Hitlerian: Weltmacht oder Niedergang. If it can no longer paralyse its enemies with fear, the qualities that made it strong will start to weaken it. The fighting in Mosul may well be fierce, but with the help of western forces and the determination of the government in Baghdad, there should be only one outcome.
After 12 years in which the worst of any range of possibilities usually came about, it does feel as though Iraq could at long last be starting to turn the corner. That is certainly what people here in Baghdad, probably the most pessimistic city on earth, are now allowing themselves to hope. If it turns out to be true, they will deserve it more than just about any other group of people on earth.
Video shows ISIS militants destroying antiquities in Iraq
Irbil, Iraq (CNN)—They take sledgehammers to statues with an uncommon gusto -- destroying in seconds what may have survived centuries.
New video released by ISIS shows militants smashing what they say are antiquities at a museum in Mosul, Iraq.
Men shove statues off pedestals, and use hammers and drills to destroy what's left.
An unnamed militant offers the following explanation: "These antiquities and idols behind me were from people in past centuries and were worshiped instead of God.
"When God Almighty orders to us destroy these statues, idols and antiquities, we must do it, even if they're worth billions of dollars," he says.
It's not clear from the footage how many of the pieces were originals, versus replicas. Experts are clear in saying, however, the video represents a clear loss.
"On repeated viewing of that very grainy video we now suspect that there (were) far more originals in the museum than I first thought," said Eleanor Robson, chair of the British Institute for the Study of Iraq. "Whilst there was indeed a program to relocate antiquities to safekeeping in Baghdad, it looks now as though it didn't reach that particular museum."
"I condemn this as a deliberate attack against Iraq's millennial history and culture, and as an inflammatory incitement to violence and hatred," said UNESCO Director-General Irina Bokova.
"This attack is far more than a cultural tragedy -- this is also a security issue as it fuels sectarianism, violent extremism and conflict in Iraq," she said, calling for an emergency meeting of the Security Council to protect Iraq's cultural heritage.
How ISIS is run
CNN has extensively reported on ISIS' destruction of some ancient and deeply meaningful sites in that country. Officials there have said ISIS has blown up shrines such as the tomb of Jonah.
Its motive are not purely ideological, however; ISIS makes money off looting.
Qais Hussain Rashid, director general of Iraqi museums, has told CNN that ISIS sells stolen antiquities to criminals and antique dealers on the black market.
Everything to know about the rise of ISIS
The militant group also allows locals to dig at ancient sites as long as those people give ISIS a percentage of the monetary value of anything found, according to a September 2014 New York Times opinion piece written by three people who had recently returned from southern Turkey and interviewed people who live and work in ISIS-controlled territory.
ISIS' system of profiteering from antiquities thieving is very complicated, the three said, adding that for some areas along the Euphrates River, ISIS leaders encourage semiprofessional field crews to dig.
ISIS militant 'Jihadi John' identified
Ben Wedeman reported this story from Irbil. Dana Ford reported and wrote this story from Atlanta. CNN's Ashley Fantz also contributed to this report.
http://edition.cnn.com/2015/02/26/middleeast/isis-antiquities-vandalism/index.html