A glazier's tale in Baghdad

The free market economy is gaining ground in Iraq. Much to the benefit of its neighbouring countries. Part four in a series from Baghdad.

His workmanship stands out in this city of constant destruction. Not that Tahsein Salim would ever say that about himself. The glazier is a modest man. Others have pointed out his skill.

Salim got the job that would make all glaziers jealous. The Palestine Hotel, around the corner from the square where the famous Saddam statue came down from its pedestal in 2003, has been a steady source of income for men like him. Less than six months before the planned departure of US combat troops from Iraq, this glazier's story says as much about the country's bloody past as it does about the players who will determine its future.

His first job at the Palestine was in April of 2003, after a US tank fired at the 18-story hotel. Two journalists were killed, three people injured and countless windows shattered. Salim worked for weeks to replace them.

Then there was the spectacular attack of October 24, 2005. A silver-coloured Mitsubishi van, just like those used by painters and glaziers such as Salim, drove into the concrete blast walls surrounding the Palestine. The explosion was forceful enough to topple one of the walls and scare off the Iraqi guards. From the smoke, a cement mixer truck emerged that went straight for the Sheraton Hotel across from the Palestine.

A Sisyphean task

Salim wasn't there to witness the attack, but he did see it on the news later. After the truck got stuck in barbed wire, a watchful US soldier shot the driver in the head. The bullet came too late to stop the explosion that blew all the windows and their frames from buildings for miles around. Back then, Salim still worked for his neighbour Taksin's business. But Taksin was never around, Salim did all the work.

So when a bomb truck blasted the windows from the Palestine's facade yet again, management called him directly and offered him a 120,000 US dollar contract. "It is a mighty job," he said, as if that wasn’t abundantly clear already. The lobby, the sauna, the gym, the bar at the pool, the lounge and dozens of rooms were covered in shattered glass. "I will be working here until August, at least," Salim said. He had closed his shop across town and would work and live at the hotel until the job was done.

A Sisyphean task: pointless, but it pays. "I think about it a lot. All this work can be destroyed in a split second," Salim said. But his main concern was that his success might draw unwanted attention. The son of a fellow glazier was kidnapped by one of the many criminal gangs in the city. The boy was returned to his father after he paid ransom.

One could argue glaziers are the big winners in the chaos of the past seven years. "Yes, I profit from the misery of others. But at least, in this case, they are hiring fellow Iraqis and not foreign companies. Right after the invasion, all contracts went to companies from outside Iraq. They charged more and didn't do anything."

Glass from the former enemy

Still, Salim is just the last link in a production chain with very few Iraqi companies in it. The glass he sets daily is not from Iraq. Neither are the bulletproof windows he recently put in the boardrooms of US investors’ offices or the tinted windows at the defence ministry. They are all from Iran, the neighbour the US says its wants to isolate. "Iraq had a couple of large glass factories in the days of Saddam. But they did not survive the sanctions introduced after the Kuwait war," said Salim. "The largest factory in Ramadi was closed by UN weapons inspectors who thought chemical weapons were being produced there. So now all our glass comes from the former enemy."

Ties between the two neighbouring countries have not been this close since the Iraq-Iran war erupted in 1980. After the fall of Saddam Hussein, a Sunni, a Shia dominated government came to power that strengthened ties with Shia neighbour Iran. It has become its most important trading partner, half of Iraqi imports now come from Iran. The Iranian consul in Basra recently told Reuters press agency that his country hopes to double its export to 8 billion dollars this year.

Meanwhile, Salim put a frame in a vice and cut, scraped, and measured until it fit, without once making a mistake in his routine. He chuckled at the idea that the economy outside his workplace was dominated by foreigners. He has work because of foreigners: American gunfire and suicide attacks by terrorists, mainly, from Syria and Saudi Arabia. The electricity he uses for his glass cutter comes mostly from Iran and Turkey.

Power is scarce in Iraq. It has been since the Gulf War in the early 1990s and the consequent sanctions against Saddam's regime. The problem got worse after the Americans invaded. Less than a quarter of Iraqis have access to the power they need. Like most people, Salim depends on a generator. Many are produced in Korea or China. They run on Iranian gasoline. Iraq itself produces fewer barrels of oil than it did before the invasion.

Western companies are still interested in pumping up Iraq's crude oil. Ten deals were sealed by major international companies in the past four months. But Western investors are reluctant to venture into other sectors because they fear for their security. At the first trade fair organised last year, only 3 of the 396 companies present were American. Iraq's neighbours are stepping in to fill the void.

Not involved in rebuilding the country

The concrete in the blast walls surrounding the Palestine and other symbols of wealth around the city are evidence of foreign involvement. Concrete walls dominate the Baghdad scenery as much as they divide it. There were times when up to 2,000 walls were put up in the dead of each night, during the curfew hours from midnight to 5 am. The concrete slabs are a Kurdish product, manufactured in Gopola, a northern town under the authority of the Kurdistan Regional Government. The concrete itself is from Turkey. According to Naomi Klein, the author of The Shock Doctrine, there are 17 Iraqi factories that could produce cement, but none of them has been given a contract to be involved in rebuilding the country.

The official Iraqi unemployment rate is over 30 percent, but some statistics say it is 45 in cities and as high as 80 percent in rural areas. At the same time, the Iraqi government encourages workers from Asia to flood the country. There are nannies from the Philippines and cleaners from Bangladesh. The Palestine hotel has a Chinese chef who makes special meals for the 18 Chinese technicians who came to set up phone and internet lines.

Salim remembered his first job for the Americans. "After I put in all the windows, they told me I was the first Iraqi who had done a good job. They don't trust us." The Iraqi administrators don't trust the people, while the people don't trust the authorities. On the long list of corrupt countries ranked by Transparency International, Iraq still dangles five places from the bottom.

Pressures of the free market

His 120,000 dollar contract will get Salim a long way. He doesn't have to worry for his ten-year-old daughter and eight-year-old son. But he sees families in his neighbourhood struggle every day. Under Saddam, they could count on the rationing system, where vouchers would get them rice, peas, beans, tea, soap and sugar. That system was unable to withstand the pressures of the free market.

Salim's belly was filled and the fluorescent lights in his workshop worked as the sun set and the muezzin at the nearby mosque announced the end of the day. His job, like his country, wasn't finished. "But I am my own boss now. I make my own money." Until the next blast. "I hope not, honestly. God willing."