Graffiti Wars

In Samarra, the battle for hearts and minds is being fought with spray-paint:

On a dark street in the restive Iraqi town of Samarra a young man masked with a bandana and a baseball cap looks over his shoulder before pulling out an aerosol can and spray-painting a wall. A US Army officer standing behind him squints at the flowing Arabic script, then turns to a reporter traveling with his platoon. “What does that say?” the officer asks.

The young vandal is an army translator the soldiers call Matthew – publishing his real name would put him in danger, he says.

Matthew is charged with sowing seeds of strife between the town’s two main insurgent groups, Al-Qaeda in Iraq and the Islamic Army of Iraq.

While Al-Qaeda takes its inspiration from Osama bin Laden’s international Islamist struggle, the Islamic Army is a coalition of Iraqi Islamists and Baathist supporters of the late dictator Saddam Hussein.

While both groups are fighting to oust US forces from Iraq, there are also signs of growing conflict between them, one that the local security forces and their US allies are keen to exploit.

In Samarra, the Islamic Army enjoys wide popularity while Al-Qaeda intimidates residents with spectacular bombings and coordinated attacks on police.

The commander of the US Army’s 82nd Airborne, 3rd Brigade, Charlie Company, based in Samarra, says both groups pose a threat to security in the town but notes that there are important differences.

The Islamic Army “is against coalition forces and ISF [Iraqi Security Forces] that work with the coalition,” says Captain Eugene “Buddy” Ferris.

“Al-Qaeda will blow up bombs in markets. Al-Jaish al-Islami [the Islamic Army] won’t,” Ferris adds. “If reconciliation is ever going to occur then the Islamic Army is a group you could work with.”

Both groups tag the walls with slogans, threats and boasts.

Al-Qaeda’s artists write: “The Samarra police are infidels, so we will bring you young men who love martyrdom,” and “We will destroy all those who cooperate with the Americans.”

The Islamic Army scribes write much the same thing, but threaten “the occupiers” instead of the local security forces and collaborators.

Matthew’s job is to redirect the artistic impulses of each group against the other. “It’s a way to destabilize their unification efforts,” says First Lieutenant Charlie Hodges, who leads one of the graffiti patrols…

Hodges sees writing on the wall, but he has to ask to make sure it is insurgent sloganeering and not something else, such as a sign advertising someone’s vegetable stand. He asks about one long sentence. Matthew tells him it is a Koranic verse. “Leave that one alone,” Hodges says.

Finally they find a message telling the occupiers to leave. Matthew scribbles over it. Then Hodges tries again. “This time, I want you to write that Al-Qaeda has killed many in the Islamic Army,” he says. “Al-Qaeda has killed many from the Islamic Army,” Matthew writes.

Then the local Iraqi police step in – not to handcuff Matthew and charge him with vandalism but to offer suggestions on how to spice up his prose.

The police are well practiced themselves, having sprayed messages like “Long live Iraq, Long live the First Battalion,” and “The First Battalion are Heroes” on the blast walls around their bases and compounds.

An argument ensues between Matthew and the police – three men in mismatched uniforms with AK-47 assault rifles slung around their necks.

One suggestion is finally greeted with enthusiasm. Matthew amends the message. “Al-Qaeda has killed many FIGHTERS from the Islamic Army.”

The paint is running out. Hodges tells Matthew his writing is too large, and orders everyone back to the vehicles. The US troops who had fanned out along the darkened street return to the Humvees, the police climb into their trucks and under the cover of darkness and an all-night curfew they head back to base.