http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/12335716/site/newsweek/The terrorists trying to drive Iraq toward full-scale civil war have put sacred shrines at the top of their target list. So who, then, is protecting Iraq's most revered holy sites these days? The answer might tell us something about where real power lies in Iraq—or at least how it's divvied up by rival factions competing for power and authority. With that aim in mind, Iraqi reporters for NEWSWEEK set off last week to visit some of the country's most sacred sites. They didn't get far. At the first stop on their list—the 10th-century Kadhimiya shrine in Baghdad—two reporters were detained and questioned. The armed men who held them were from an obscure security force called the Facilities Protection Services, which now apparently numbers a staggering 146,000 men.
The visit began at about 11 a.m. on Wednesday. The two reporters, who do not want to be named for personal security reasons, first passed through a checkpoint manned by Iraqis clad in police uniforms. Each of the guards carried an AK-47 over his shoulder and a Glock 9mm pistol on his hip. Some wore body armor. They frisked the two reporters, who then proceeded through one of four towering gates that led to a marble courtyard. Inside the shrine's offices, the reporters sat down with Sayeed Abdul Zarrah, a Shia religious administrator. A brown-bearded man dressed in civilian clothes hovered nearby. When the reporters asked about who was guarding the site, the plainclothes guy stepped in. He told them all the armed men at the shrine were members of the FPS. Then one of his commanders entered the room.
First he demanded to listen to the recorded interview. "This is not journalism," he fumed. "This is intelligence research." He wore the blue shirt and dark trousers typically worn by the police, but with no badge on his arm. He told them he was a colonel in military intelligence under Saddam Hussein, and had "participated in training programs in countries like Egypt, so I have good experience in these things." More questions followed, punctuated by long waits as the commander left and re-entered the room. "I just want to know whom you work for," he insisted, ignoring the reporters' press cards and repeated statements that they worked for NEWSWEEK. Finally, the commander allowed them to leave. Two plainclothesmen followed them through the crowds of Kadhimiya market until the reporters jumped in a taxi and sped away.
The incident—part "Sopranos," part Keystone Cops—reveals the murky nature of security in Iraq these days. Iraqis don't know whom to trust. Men who say they are journalists could be insurgents. Yet people dressed as security officers could be just about anyone. Insurgents and militiamen have disguised themselves as soldiers, police and, probably, fighters from rival militia groups. Some security units are fronts for specific militia organizations, and it's widely believed that cops have banded together to form death squads.