Tower of Iraqi protest power
BAGHDAD — The protesters stand by the thousands on the abandoned building’s open floors, waving Iraqi flags and cheering. Some sit on the edge, feet dangling in the air from high floors as they sway to blasting music. They have a bird’s-eye view of Baghdad — and the tens of thousands of demonstrators below.
At night, they wave the lights on their cellphones at comrades on the ground. Then they move inside the building, dine together, play dominoes and sing patriotic songs until the early hours of the morning. They also are able to watch the security forces battling the protesters.
The 14-story, Saddam Hussein-era building on the Tigris River has emerged as a landmark in the anti-government protests gripping Iraq. The structure has been abandoned since 2003, when it was bombed by the U.S.led forces, but on Oct. 25 it was taken over from security forces by demonstrators. They have sworn not to leave.
A onetime commercial center, the building was nicknamed the “Turkish Restaurant” because of a famous dining spot on the top floor that was a tourist attraction with panoramic views in the 1980s. Today it is called other names — the “Stalingrad Baghdad,” the “Hanging Gardens” and “Jabal Uhud,” a reference to a mountain north of Medina, Saudi Arabia, that was the site of a historic battle between Muslim and Meccan forces.
The building has clear views of Tahrir Square, nearby bridges and the Green Zone, home to government offices and Western embassies. That makes it a strategic location, and it was previously used by security forces and riot police, according to an Iraqi general.
“The protesters were very smart when they occupied it. They now can monitor the movements of security forces and it’s difficult to get it back because of the crowds,” said the general, who spoke on condition of anonymity because he was not authorized to talk about security measures.
The tower is routinely packed with young men and women, and has become the embodiment of the free spirit unleashed by unprecedented protests that began on Oct. 1 in Baghdad.
Spontaneous and leaderless, the demonstrations were thrown together on social media over long-standing grievances including government corruption, unemployment and a lack of basic services. They have quickly grown into the largest grass-roots protest movement that Iraq has seen.
Ali Hashim, a 19-year-old former university student in a black T-shirt and holding an Iraqi flag, was hanging out with friends on the 12th floor of the building.
“I had to stop my studies because I don’t have tuition fees. That’s why I’m here,” he said.
The protests are not directed by any political party. Instead, they take aim at the political establishment that came to power after the U.S. invasion, which many blame for Iraq’s spiraling corruption and poor public services. Authorities have responded with force, firing live ammunition, rubber bullets and tear gas at unarmed protesters.
In a first round of demonstrations, gunmen shot at crowds from the building. A government inquiry found that security forces killed at least 149 protesters and injured more than 5,000.
After a three-week pause, the rallies resumed Oct. 25, and so has the violence, with more than 100 slain.
Far from deterring protesters, the crackdown appears to have energized them.
Inside the building, young Iraqis cheer, dance and take selfies. A narrow staircase is crammed with people going up and down. Cheering groups stand precariously close to the edge of the building’s rooftop, and tear gas is frequently fired in their direction.
A banner inside reads: “The building of the revolutionaries.”