Faces of Resistance

The two raised voices bounce off the latticed walls of the Abu Hanifa mosque in Baghdad, where hundreds of Sunnis have gathered for the first night of Ramadan. Korans snap shut, and heads turn toward the corner, where a quiet discussion among a group of Sunnis is getting contentious. The subject preoccupies Sunnis across Iraq: whether to vote in this week's referendum on a new constitution. "The best way for us to show our opposition is to boycott," says Majid al-Bayati, 63, a retired lawyer, as some congregants mutter approval. "It's a complete waste of time." Upon hearing this, construction worker Samir Abdel-Haadi, 33, pushes back. "That is the kind of thinking that got us where we are today," he says, referring to the elections last January that produced a victory for religious Shi'ite parties. This time around, he says, Sunnis should stand up and be counted.

The Bush Administration would probably hail this kind of exchange as a sign that some of Iraq's Sunnis--who make up 20% of the population but the bulk of the anti-U.S. insurgency--are willing to participate in a political process they have until now largely rejected. But the Sunni dilemma reveals deep anxieties that cannot be resolved simply by holding elections. Whether or not Sunnis come out to vote in large numbers in Saturday's referendum, the underlying tensions that have pulled Iraq to the brink of civil war aren't likely to disappear. Few Sunnis have faith in the U.S.-sponsored political process or the Shi'ite and Kurdish leaders who have risen to power in Baghdad. The vote on the constitution--which Sunni leaders oppose because it paves the way for a semiautonomous region in the south (like the one already created in the Kurdish north)--may serve only to heighten Sunni estrangement, since it will probably pass no matter how many Sunnis come out to vote against it. It's no wonder that ordinary Sunnis increasingly believe they have no say in the political events sweeping through their country. "There is a sense that we are losing control of our destiny," says Hatem Mukhlis, a prominent Sunni politician. "We feel marginalized, victimized and completely alone."

For the U.S., those are worrisome sentiments. The U.S. exit strategy in Iraq hinges on convincing moderate Sunnis that it's in their interests to embrace democracy and accept political setbacks with grace. Few Sunnis say they support the terrorist atrocities that are perpetrated daily by followers of al-Qaeda leader Abu Mousab al-Zarqawi, but many still regard attacks against U.S. and Iraqi troops as legitimate resistance. At the Abu Hanifa mosque, the most prominent Sunni mosque in Baghdad, a banner hangs from the clock tower calling on worshippers to pray in the name of Muhammad, imam of the mujahedin. Over the door to the main prayer hall, another banner paraphrases the Koran, exhorting God to deliver the faithful from the infidels--a not-so-subtle call to drive U.S. troops out of Iraq. Says Vice President Ghazi al-Yawer, the highest-ranked Sunni in the government: "An angry community that feels helpless and powerless--it's not hard to see how the terrorists and insurgents will exploit the situation."