Nigerians Recount Night of Their Bloody Revenge

Image by Travelling Steve via Flickr

By ADAM NOSSITER

JOS, Nigeria — Dispassionately, the baby-faced young man recounted his killings: two women and one man, first beaten senseless with a stick, then stabbed to death with a short knife.

The man, Dahiru Adamu, 25, was crouching on the floor in the sprawling police headquarters here, summoned to give an accounting of the terrible night of March 7, when, he said, he and dozens of other herdsmen descended on a slumbering village just south of here and slaughtered hundreds with machetes, knives and cutlasses in a brutal act of sectarian retribution.

On Monday and Tuesday, 332 bodies were buried in a mass grave in the village of Dogo Na Hawa, the Nigerian Red Cross said Wednesday. Human rights groups and the state government say that as many as 500 people may have been killed in the early hours of Sunday morning, in three different villages.

Sunday’s killings were an especially vicious expression of long-running hostilities between Christians and Muslims in this divided nation. Jos and the region around it are on the fault line where the volatile and poor Muslim north and the Christian south meet. In the past decade, some 3,000 people have been killed in interethnic, interreligious violence in this fraught zone. The pattern is familiar and was seen as recently as January: uneasy coexistence suddenly explodes into killing, amplified for days by retaliation.

Mr. Adamu, a Muslim herder, said he went to Dogo Na Hawa, a village of Christians living in mud-brick houses on dirt streets, to avenge the killings of Muslims and their cattle in January.

The operation had been planned at least several days before by a local group called Thank Allah, said one of Mr. Adamu’s fellow detainees, Ibrahim Harouna, who was shackled on the floor next to him. The men spoke in Hausa through an interpreter.

“They killed a lot of our Fulanis in January,” Mr. Adamu said, referring to his ethnic group. “So I knew that this time, we would take revenge.”

His victims were sleeping when he arrived, he said, and he set their house on fire. Sure enough, they ran out.

“I killed three people,” Mr. Adamu said calmly.

He and the other detainees showed no sign that they had been maltreated; some confessed to killings, and others denied them, speaking in front of the police.

The police quickly arrested about 200 people in connection with the killings, and many of them were crouching anxiously in rows on a bare concrete floor, outside the police headquarters on Wednesday morning. The police have confiscated 14 machetes, 26 bows, arrows, 3 axes, 4 spears and 44 guns. Victims, many of them women and children, were cut down with knives, short and long; few survived.

Usually in such attacks, there are twice as many injuries as deaths, said Ben Whitfield of the Doctors Without Borders team in Jos. “It’s unreal,” he said. “These people were definitely caught in the middle of the night and meant to be killed.” Like others in Jos, police officials say they are hoping for peace after years of sectarian killings in the region.

But they are not sure they will get it. The streets in this metropolis of several million were largely deserted Wednesday. Residents spoke of fear and anger, and about 4,300 have fled.

Christians, in interviews, voiced suspicion of the intentions of Muslims and associated them with the taint of terrorism. The state attorney general, Edward Pwajok, a Christian, said that on Wednesday morning he had prosecuted a Nigerian Muslim man living in a Jos suburb who had “acknowledged” being “a member of Al Qaeda.”

Mr. Pwajok said there was no indication that the man, Samsudeen Sahsu, was connected to the killings; he said DVDs of Al Qaeda’s activities had been discovered in the man’s home. The group is not previously known to have penetrated Nigeria, though Mr. Sahsu, in a written confession provided by the attorney general, named other members of the “AlKaida Islamic Association.”

He said the headquarters were in Maiduguri, where last summer a radical Islamic sect, Boko Haram, was bloodily suppressed by Nigerian security forces.

“Suspicion is still rife,” the state police commissioner, Ikechukwu Aduba, said in an interview in his office in Jos. “We are appealing to the youth to sheath their swords and give peace a chance.”

Mr. Aduba sharply disputed the elevated death toll reported by others, saying that the police could confirm only 109 deaths.

But a Nigerian Red Cross official in Jos, Adeyemo Adebayo, deputy head of disaster management, said that the number of dead was “possibly” even greater than the 332 buried in the mass grave, since many fled into the bush and could have been cut down there by their attackers. A respected Nigerian human rights group, the Civil Rights Congress, said Monday that its members had counted 492 bodies.

Their attackers had come on foot from nearby villages and had made no preparations for a getaway, said Adebola Hamzat, chief superintendent of the Jos police. “Many of them were still running around,” he said, when they were picked up by the security forces. And many were carrying “cutlasses” — long lethal-looking knives that the police produced for visitors on Wednesday — still stained with blood, he said.

“The person was coming toward me; I killed him with a cutlass,” said the young man next to Mr. Adamu, Zakaria Yakubu, 20, insisting that he was defending a fellow Fulani who had been shot. His victim “did not die right away,” Mr. Yakubu said. “When we got to Dogo Na Hawa, we were just looking for our cattle.” He was clutching some bread distributed by the Red Cross.

Next to him, Ibrahim Harouna, also 20, would say only that he had “killed some of the people’s pigs,” though the police said he was also suspected of having taken part in the killings.

On Wednesday, the mood in Jos was tense among Muslim traders, who complained of a sharp drop in business, and it was anything but forgiving among Christians. They complained that Muslims wanted to supplant “indigenes” — Christians long native to the region.

“Some people want to be rulers everywhere,” said Yohanna Yatou, a businessman. “It’s the Muslims. They said they are born to rule.” Williams Danladi said that Muslims “believe that if they die during this war, they will go to heaven.”

“We Christians, we don’t believe this,” he said.

Others expressed puzzlement and exasperation with the never-ending conflict. “This is a Christian, an indigene,” said Moussa Ismail, pointing to his friend sitting next to him on a downtown stoop, Jacob Ayuba. “We have done business for more than 20 years. How would I attack him?”

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In a Reversal, Sunnis Vote, to Retain a Voice in Iraq

Image by Kurdistan KURD كوردستان كردستان ا via Flickr

By ANTHONY SHADID

FALLUJA, Iraq — In this town, nicknamed the City of Mosques, the scratchy loudspeakers of muezzins that once preached resistance to the American occupation implored Sunni Arabs to defy bombs and vote Sunday. They did, in a landmark election that demonstrated how far Iraq has come and perhaps how far it has to go.

The droves of Sunni Arab residents casting ballots in towns like Falluja — the name itself synonymous with the cradle of the insurgency, where relatively few voted in the last election five years ago — promised to redraw Iraq’s political landscape. The turnout delivered Sunnis their most articulated voice yet on the national stage, seven years after the American-led invasion ended their dominance.

Yet the act of their empowerment Sunday may make that landscape even more combustible, possibly even risking a revival of sectarian conflict. The demands of Sunni voters, from securing the presidency for a Sunni to diluting Iran’s influence, could make the already formidable task in Iraq of forming a coalition government even more difficult.

At polling stations near cratered buildings, past blast walls that still bore the pockmarks of bullets, the sentiments of voters who largely boycotted Iraq’s national elections in 2005 illustrated that divide.

Even as many cast ballots for the slate of Ayad Allawi, a secular Shiite and former prime minister, they condemned religious Shiite parties. With the invective once reserved for Americans, voters now attacked Iran, seen here as the patron of Iraq’s Shiite-led government.

“There’s no more war, it’s true, but we’re still not free,” Riyadh Khalaf, 47, a laborer, said as he stood near a polling station in the neighborhood of Andalus, where distant bombings reverberated through the morning. “We have an American occupation and an Iranian administration.”

A civil defense worker, Raad Mustafa, shouted, “We have to save our country.”

Ammar Ali, a police officer, interrupted them.

“We want someone who lives with us, someone who is from Iraq,” he said, carrying his rifle. “We don’t want the politicians who spend the night in Iran.”

In a day of remarkable images, none may have been more startling than those in Anbar Province, where just 3,375 people voted in January 2005, out of fear of insurgent threats or in protest of the occupation. People often cast the boycott then as a matter of survival, refusal to participate in an order that disenfranchised them. Similar words in another context were heard Sunday; failure to vote would amount to surrender.

“I voted for the sake of the generations to come,” said Yunus Adel, 22, a student. “My vote is going to determine my destiny. We have to have a voice.”

In another neighborhood, Mohammed Hatem walked past Martyrs School where, on April 28, 2003, American soldiers, saying they had been shot at, fired on a protest and killed 15 people, a seminal moment in unleashing an insurgency that would not end for five years. The school, on this day, was a polling station.

“The memories remain,” Mr. Hatem said. “But if you have the right, you have to exercise it.”

Voters in the Jolan neighborhood, the scene of some of the most intense fighting in 2004, barely flinched at blasts, which killed no one. Mosques that once served as refuge for insurgents blared messages imploring voters to defy the bombings.

Politics in Anbar are not for the faint-hearted. They tend toward the nasty, brutish and loud, where even nuances are conveyed as shouts. The governor lost his hand in an attack in December. A candidate near Falluja talked of the 11 attempts on his life as he might about car wrecks. Unfortunate, but they happen.

Nevertheless, in Anbar, as in predominantly Sunni regions elsewhere, politics have become far more diverse since the days when the Iraqi Islamic Party, a descendant of the venerable Muslim Brotherhood, dominated the regions. Since 2009, the province’s other currents — neo-Baathist and tribal — have rallied around lists loyal to Mr. Allawi and Interior Minister Jawad al-Bolani, another secular Shiite.

“Everyone in Anbar — no, in Iraq — knows that the Islamic Party is lying,” said Sheik Aiffan Saadoun al-Aiffan, a tribal leader and candidate on Mr. Bolani’s list. “They deal with Iran, they steal money and they’ve lost the support of the people.”

Mr. Aiffan is part of a new breed of politician here, as traditional as he is worldly, with a kinetic energy that helped him, on a recent day, hit the campaign trail in the afternoon, greet a procession of relatives wearing what amounts to Anbar chic — headdress, sunglasses and bandolier — at night, then run an hour on the treadmill until 3:40 a.m.

He speaks with the entitlement of inherited power. “I’ll win, sure,” he said, with a touch of humor. “People like me, and God is with me.” And in a province where conversation, hours and hours of it, is the favorite pastime, he understands a constituency that deems politics’ ambiguous grays as effeminate.

Mr. Aiffan called the surrender “of even an inch of territory” in the border disputes with Kurds a sacrilege. (“This is our faith,” he said.) He threatened to fight the Islamic Party with guns if there was a hint of vote stealing. (“It could happen.”) And he insisted that the presidency was the right of a Sunni Arab, not a Kurd — someone like his ally, Ahmed Abu Risha, another tribal leader here who leads Mr. Bolani’s list.

“This time, the decisions will be different,” he said. “We can vote for what’s right, who’s good. We’ll make the right choices.” He looked at his computer, next to three cellphones, one of which got 150 text messages in an hour.

“The problem is,” he asked, “who will be with us in Baghdad?”

Even before the voting ended, politicians and voters speculated about the fragility of coalitions, in particular Mr. Allawi’s, which seemed to enjoy a groundswell of support as the one force that could counter Iraq’s religious Shiite parties. Some speculated that Vice President Tariq al-Hashemi’s candidates might leave it and return to the Iraqi Islamic Party, from which they split.

Others wondered whether Mr. Allawi, with his reputation for high-handedness, could keep the loyalty of emerging Sunni figures like Saleh al-Mutlaq, a member of Parliament banned from the election for ties to the Baath Party, and Rafea al-Issawi, a deputy prime minister who hails from one of Anbar’s biggest tribes.

“We won’t have a war, but it will be a conflict,” predicted Mohammed Zaal, an engineer in Falluja. “It will be a political conflict of Sunni against Sunni and Shiite against Shiite. Once they lose power, they’ll look for other ways to keep their influence.”

“I’m still optimistic,” he added, “but even in the civil war, I was optimistic.”

U.S. Fears Election Strife in Iraq Could Affect Pullout

Image by The U.S. Army via Flickr

By HELENE COOPER and MARK LANDLER

WASHINGTON — The deadly suicide bombings in Iraq on Wednesday highlight the central quandary facing President Obama as he tries to fulfill his campaign pledge to end the war there: Will parliamentary elections, scheduled for Sunday, throw the country back into the sectarian strife that flared in 2004 and delay the planned American withdrawal?

Senior Obama administration officials maintained in interviews this week that Mr. Obama’s plan to withdraw all American combat troops by Sept. 1 would remain on track regardless of who cobbles together a governing coalition after the election. Under the plan, no more than 50,000 American forces would stay behind, mostly in advisory roles. (Now there are slightly more than 90,000 troops in the country, down from 124,000 in September.)

But administration officials also acknowledged that the bigger worry for the United States was not who would win the elections, but the possibility that the elections — and their almost certainly messy aftermath — could ignite violence that would, at the least, complicate the planned withdrawal.

In part for that reason, “we’re not leaving behind cooks and quartermasters,” Vice President Joseph R. Biden Jr. said Wednesday in a telephone interview. The bulk of the remaining American troops, he said, “will still be guys who can shoot straight and go get bad guys.”

Gen. Ray Odierno, the top American military commander in Iraq, has drawn up a contingency plan that would keep a combat brigade in northern Iraq beyond the Sept. 1 deadline, should conditions warrant, administration officials said. Kirkuk and the restive Kurdish area in the north remain major concerns for American military planners.

Beyond that, military and administration officials say they are prepared to use the remaining American noncombat troops for combat missions, if things heat up.

For Mr. Obama, however, such a sleight of hand could have huge political repercussions back in Washington. The centerpiece of Mr. Obama’s foreign policy platform when he ran for president — and indeed, the reason many political experts say he was able to wrest a primary victory from Hillary Rodham Clinton — was his opposition to the Iraq war from the start.

At a time when Mr. Obama has already angered his liberal base by ramping up the number of American troops in Afghanistan and missing his own deadline to shut down the military prison in Guantánamo Bay, Cuba, even the appearance that he has fudged the troop drawdown in Iraq could set off a rebellion as Democrats face difficult midterm elections.

There is also concern that the administration has been so preoccupied by Afghanistan and Pakistan that Iraq has gotten less attention from top policy-makers in the State Department or the National Security Council, according to administration officials and outside experts.

Ten months ago, Mr. Obama effectively handed Mr. Biden the administration’s Iraq portfolio, and the vice president has been to Iraq several times since then to cajole, prod and push Iraqi political leaders to compromise — often using the looming American troop pullout as a warning to the politicians that they will not have an American security blanket forever.

Mr. Biden has led monthly meetings in the White House Situation Room and recruited other agencies, like the Treasury and Agriculture Departments to help with Iraqi reconstruction.

But below Mr. Biden, the main Iraq working group consists of five relatively junior officials from the White House, the State Department and the Pentagon, one administration official said. Other officials counter that senior policymakers, including Antony Blinken, the vice president’s chief foreign policy adviser and Puneet Talwar, a senior director in the National Security Council, are both heavily involved in Iraq.

Still, with Mr. Biden also juggling other duties, some experts contend that the administration could use more senior-level officials whose primary focus is developing Iraq policy.

For his part, Mr. Biden said that while the administration was worried about trouble spots, particularly in the north, he was confident that Iraqi violence would not reach the levels it did during the last election in 2005. He said that was in part because Iraq’s quarreling sects had realized that they could achieve more working within the political process than by lobbing grenades from the outside.

“Politics has broken out in Iraq,” Mr. Biden said.

For the Obama administration, the best strategy could be to remind the Iraqis that they must conduct a responsible election if they want a long-term relationship with the United States, experts said.

“You can effectively say to any Iraqi, ‘Barack Obama was not elected to keep the United States in Iraq; if you guys are going to do something that does not serve American interests there, his incentive will be to cut his losses,’ ” said Kenneth M. Pollack, the director of the Saban Center for Middle East Policy at the Brookings Institution.

The American ambassador to Baghdad, Christopher R. Hill, has been meeting with party leaders to deliver the message that the United States wants a clean election. While he said the administration recognized the danger of uncertainty after the vote, he said Iraq had shown it could navigate such periods peacefully.

“We can draw comfort from the fact that Iraq politicians have always pulled back from the brink,” he said in a telephone interview. “We believe they fully understand the risks of a protracted government formation period.”

With no party expected to get a majority, or even a strong plurality, analysts foresee intense horse trading, with factions like the Kurds trying to play kingmaker as diverse groups attempt to cobble together coalitions.

Mr. Hill emphasized that the United States did not want to get drawn into postelection wrangling among Kurdish, Shiite or Sunni parties. He and General Odierno have already been criticized in some quarters in Iraq for speaking about Iran’s influence in the election process.

“Assuming that everything is going to go off fine, we will execute our withdrawal as we advertised,” Gen. James L. Jones, the national security adviser, said Tuesday in an interview. It would take a “proactive national decision” by Mr. Obama to divert from the withdrawal plan, he said, adding, “The military always thinks through different options in how we might react.”

Thom Shanker and Steven Lee Myers contributed reporting.

Murky Candidacy Stokes Iraq’s Sectarian Fears

Image via Wikipedia

By MARC SANTORA and MICHAEL R. GORDON

BAGHDAD — A politician widely accused of running death squads might not be expected to have an easy time running for public office.

But this is Iraq. In a nation sadly inured to years of sectarian bloodletting, Hakim al-Zamili not only has a place on a prominent Shiite election slate, but stands poised to win a place in the Parliament, as early voting began Thursday morning for the infirm, people with special needs and members of the military and the police.

It is an astonishing turnabout that shows the limits of political reconciliation. While some Sunni candidates have been barred from running in the election for their alleged support of the Baath Party, Mr. Zamili’s candidacy has provoked nary a protest from the nation’s leading Shiite politicians. That runs the risk that Shiite leaders will be seen as taking steps against only those who persecuted Shiites, not Sunnis.

Mr. Zamili’s new political role has heightened concerns that for all the talk of cross-sectarian alliances among some Shiite and Sunni factions, Iraq may be unable to firmly break with its troubled past.

The embrace of his candidacy “sends the worst possible message to loyal Iraqis,” said one American official who was involved in a fruitless effort to convict Mr. Zamili at a high-profile trialin 2008. He spoke on the condition that he not be identified because he was not authorized to comment on Iraqi political developments.

Sitting inside his ramshackle campaign headquarters in Sadr City, Mr. Zamili insisted that the charges against him were no more than politically motivated fabrications. But he was unapologetic about the attacks that Shiite militias like Moktada al-Sadr’s Mahdi Army carried out in past years against the Americans and Sunni insurgents.

“Many people in politics understand that resistance was our right because we were occupied,” he said. “We had a duty to protect the people from the U.S. forces and the attacks of terrorists.”

Now that American troops are withdrawing, Mr. Zamili, the dark circles under his eyes giving him a worn look even when he smiles, said it was time to abandon armed struggle. As candidate No. 15 on the Iraqi National Alliance slate, he is part of a coalition that includes Ibrahim al-Jaafari, the former prime minister, and Ahmed Chalabi, the longtime political survivor who led the effort to disbar Sunni candidates and who draws support, American officials charge, from Iran.

“They thought they would end the Sadrist movement, but we persevered,” Mr. Zamili said.

Several years ago Mr. Zamili was a protagonist in a very different drama. The Ministry of Health and the hospitals that it oversaw were some of the first institutions that Mr. Sadr’s supporters controlled after the ouster of Saddam Hussein. Mr. Zamili, American officials say, was appointed to his ministry post with Mr. Sadr’s backing.

According to the inquiry that led to Mr. Zamili’s trial, the ministry’s protection service was used as a private militia to kidnap and kill hundreds of Sunnis from 2005 to early 2007. A deputy health minister, Ammar al-Saffar, who was gathering data on abuses at the ministry, disappeared before he could turn over his findings to Prime Minister Nuri Kamal al-Maliki. He vanished after telling associates that Mr. Zamili had threatened him.

Mr. Zamili was arrested in early 2007 after Mr. Maliki had a falling out with Mr. Sadr. American officials worked closely with Iraqi officials to build a case that Mr. Zamili was involved in murder, kidnapping and corruption. His trial was to be the first of a high-ranking Shiite official for sectarian crimes — an event, one American official asserted, that would be as important in establishing the rule of law in Iraq as the trial of Saddam Hussein.

After a two-day trial, marred by accusations of witness intimidation, the charges were dropped and Mr. Zamili was freed after spending more than a year in American custody.

Mr. Zamili denied in the interview that he had ever orchestrated the kidnappings and killings. “They accused me of fueling the violence,” he said. “Each and every person resisting and opposed to the occupation is a terrorist, a thief, a criminal,” he said dismissively.

As it turns out, he said, his arrest actually was a political boon. He has trumpeted his position at the Health Ministry in his campaign. Quoting Gandhi, he has portrayed himself as a political martyr. “It was a benefit to me because people related to me,” he said. “They saw me suffering. And suffering is good for the soul.”

The families of those he stood accused of ordering murdered say they are aghast. Ali al-Saffar, Mr. Saffar’s son, said in a telephone interview from London that Mr. Jaafari had been a family friend and that when he met with the former prime minister three years ago Mr. Jaafari acknowledged receiving information linking Mr. Zamili to his father’s disappearance.

“Despite their emphasis on personal morality, they have sadly shown they are willing to forfeit their ideals in the pursuit of power, including by welcoming into their ranks people like Hakim al-Zamili,” Mr. Saffar said, referring to the Iraqi National Alliance slate.

Manal Finjan, a candidate in the election and a spokeswoman for Mr. Jaafari’s list, said the courts had exonerated Mr. Zamili, and he should therefore be treated like any other candidate.

“We actually deal with people on the basis of evidence and documents,” she said. “He was acquitted by the court, and anybody who has evidence against him could go to the proper authorities.”

While Mr. Zamili is now a player in the political game, he did not rule out the possibility that the militias might be once again called on to defend the people. “If there were a bad situation, an increase in attacks, the continuation of unjust arrests, they will force us to defend ourselves and our leaders,” he said.

This may be a bit of bravado. Support for the Sadrists drained as Iraqis tired of violence and sectarian killings. But judging by the mood of the dozens of young men in the muddied track suits that were once the unofficial uniform of the Mahdi Army, some seem willing to return to the fight.

Before Mr. Zamili arrived, they had just received news — later denied by aides to Mr. Maliki — that a court had reissued an arrest warrant for Mr. Sadr, who is believed to be in Iran, should he return to Iraq. As angry denunciations rang in the smoke-filled room, one burly young man made it clear that Sadrists would not stand for any such action.

“We had Maliki surrounded in Basra when he visited and could not get him,” he said. “But this time, if this report is true, we will go to the Green Zone and pull him out by his head and roll him in the street.”

Iraq’s Shiites Show Restraint After Attacks

By ROD NORDLAND

BAGHDAD — Shiite clerics and politicians have been successfully urging their followers not to retaliate against a fierce campaign of sectarian bombings, in which Shiites have accounted for most of the 566 Iraqis killed since American troops pulled out of Iraq’s cities on June 30.

“Let them kill us,” said Sheik Khudair al-Allawi, the imam of a mosque bombed recently. “It’s a waste of their time. The sectarian card is an old card and no one is going to play it anymore. We know what they want, and we’ll just be patient. But they will all go to hell.”

The patience of the Shiites today is in extraordinary contrast to Iraq’s recent past. With a demographic majority of 60 percent and control of the government, power is theirs for the first time in a thousand years. Going back to sectarian war is, as both Sunni extremists and Shiite victims know, the one way they could lose all that, especially if they were to drag their Sunni Arab neighbors into a messy regional conflict.

It is a far cry from 2006, when a bomb set off at the sacred Shiite shrine in Samarra killed no one, but ignited a fury at the sacrilege that set off two years of sectarian warfare.

This year the equally important shrine of Kadhimiya in Baghdad, the tomb of two revered Shiite imams, was attacked by suicide bombers twice, in January and April. More than a hundred people were killed, but there was no retaliation.

Bombing Shiite mosques has become so common that Sunni extremists have been forced to look elsewhere to provoke outrage — much as they did in 2005, when Shiites similarly showed patience when attacked. They have attacked groups of Shiite refugees waiting for food rations, children gathering for handouts of candy, lines of unemployed men hoping for a day’s work, school buses, religious pilgrimages, weddings, marketplaces and hospitals in Shiite areas and even the funerals of their victims from the day before.

Iraq’s Shiites, counseled by their political and religious leaders and habituated to suffering by centuries as the region’s underclass, have refused to rise to the bait — for now. Instead, they have made a virtue of forbearance and have convinced their followers that they win by not responding with violence. Prime Minister Nuri Kamal al-Maliki has brought once violent Shiite militiamen into the fold, while the Shiites’ spiritual leader, Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani, has forbidden any sort of violent reprisals.

“I wouldn’t look for this to become a repeat of 2006,” said the American ambassador to Iraq, Christopher R. Hill. “It’s very different.”

No longer are there tit-for-tat bombings of Sunni mosques after Shiite mosques are hit.

Now, even some of the most violent of Shiite extremists of past years are clamoring to join the political process. Last week, the Maliki government announced that Asa’ib al-Haq, one of the so-called special groups that continued to fight after other Shiites had stopped in 2008, now had renounced violence against Iraqis.

To some extent, the recent attacks against Shiites were expected, as many Iraqis braced for a general increase in violence after the American military withdrawal from towns and cities on June 30. On Monday, several bombs went off around Baghdad, and two huge truck bombs destroyed an entire village of Shiites from the Shabak minority near Mosul, in the north.

Ten days earlier, five mosques were bombed during Friday Prayer in poor areas around Baghdad, where followers of the anti-American cleric, Moktada al-Sadr, are numerous. In the bloodiest attack, at the Shoroufi mosque in the Shaab area, a car bomb hit an outdoor prayer area, killing 41 of Mr. Sadr’s followers.

More mosque bombings followed during Friday Prayer last week, and on Tuesday night, at least eight people were killed in twin bombings at a cafe and a mosque in the predominantly Shiite Al Amin area of the capital.

Sheik Allawi, the imam at Al Shoroufi, recounted the lesson another preacher gave a week after the bombing there. “He reminded them of Imam Hussein and drew a connection between his suffering and the Shoroufi bombing,” he said. “Blood will spill on the ground until the Mahdi shows up.”

Shiite Islam is all about patience and the long view, waiting for the hidden 12th imam, the Mahdi, to return and redeem the faith’s followers. And it is also about enduring suffering, as illustrated by the annual and always passionate commemoration of the martyrdom of Imam Hussein, the seventh-century Shiite saint, when many flagellate themselves in bloody displays of regret.

Anger after such bombings is common, but now it is more likely to be directed against failures by Iraqi security forces, not against Sunnis.

In 2006, people had little confidence in the security forces to protect them, so they turned to the militias instead. “The Iraqi Army is not the one people worried about three years ago,” said Ambassador Hill. “They were considered part of the problem a few years ago; now it’s an army that is broadly understood not to be engaged in sectarian violence.”

Militias got a bad name during that period, even among the people they were supposed to protect. Many were blamed for extorting money from their neighborhoods and carrying out kidnappings for profit. “The time of the militias is over and they will not come back,” said Sheik Abdullah al-Shimary, leader of the Shiite Al Shimer tribe in Diyala. “There are security forces now, and they are the ones who have the responsibility to control our areas.”

Another important factor is the influence the Shiite clerical leadership has over its followers, with Grand Ayatollah Sistani and other members of the howza, the top religious leadership, condemning any sort of violent reprisals.

“Sayid Moktada al-Sadr has told us in his instructions that we have to follow the orders of the howza,” said Sheik Jalil al-Sarkhey, the deputy head of the Sadr office in Sadr City, the huge Shiite slum in Baghdad. “We are all agreed; there will be no spilling of Iraqi blood.”

Another important difference has been the rejection by Sunni politicians of attacks on the Shiites, which was rarely heard in 2006. “The Sunnis openly and clearly are condemning these attacks,” said Ghassan al-Atiyyah, a political analyst who directs the Iraq Foundation for Democracy and Development. “And they’re all emphasizing that this is trying to stir up sectarian violence.”

Majid al-Asadi, a cleric in Najaf, said, “We will not react against these efforts to ignite sectarian conflict because that is exactly what our enemies want and not what our Iraqi people want.”

Still, some Shiite leaders warn that their patience will not be infinite. “As human beings, every person has his limits,” Sheik Sarkhey said. “So we ask God to protect us from any sectarian war.”

Iraqi employees of The New York Times contributed reporting from Basra, Karbala, Diyala and Baghdad.