George Packer

Staff Writer, The New Yorker Magazine, and Executive Board Member, PEN American Center

27 March 2007

House Committee on Foreign Affairs, Sub-Committee on Middle East and South Asia

Statement:

The war in Iraq has produced one of the world’s gravest refugee crises, with close to two million Iraqis having fled the country and another 1.9 million internally displaced—one in every seven Iraqis uprooted from home, and every day hundreds or even thousands more. They are all leaving for one reason: to escape violence, whether it comes from insurgents, militias, American and coalition forces, or criminal gangs. But there is one group of Iraqis, some of whom are refugees and others who are not yet, that is particularly vulnerable and has a particular claim on American attention: those Iraqis who have worked, either directly or indirectly, for the United States government and military in Iraq. They are, as one State Department official said to me, “truly a unique ‘homeless’ population in Iraq’s war zone—dependent on us for security and not convinced we will take care of them when we leave.”

I recently traveled to Iraq and the region to report on this story for an article published in last week’s New Yorker Magazine. I spoke with dozens of Iraqis who have worked for the U.S., as well as numerous American officials and soldiers. The Iraqis who supported and trusted us most, who welcomed the overthrow of the Saddam regime and shared our vision for Iraq’s future to the extent that they were willing to risk their lives for it every day—as interpreters, office managers, secretaries, contractors, drivers—now feel abandoned. They are targeted for death as collaborators by Sunni and Shia extremists, and they are distrusted and despised by the Iraqi government and security forces. They have no friends in Iraq other than us. And we, in turn, depend on them as vital sources of information about a country we still know and understand all too little. And yet we have allowed our Iraqi allies to be terrorized and killed over the past few years (no one knows the number, but it is in the hundreds) without making any serious effort to protect them or, if necessary, evacuate them. Of many, many examples, here are two.

The first is Yaghdan, a thirty-year-old whom I met in January. Yaghdan—who insisted that I use his real name, which tells you something about his character—worked for the U.S. Agency for International Development from 2003 until 2006. Last October, as he was going into his garage, he found a note that said, “We will cut off heads and throw them in the garbage.” Nearby against his garden fence lay the severed upper half of a small dog. Yaghdan realized that, in spite of the elaborate precautions he took every day, a neighbor who worked for a Shia militia had recognized him entering the Green Zone. He reported the incident to his American superiors and was advised that he had two choices: either leave the country, or move into the USAID compound in the Green Zone, which would mean leaving his wife at home. Yaghdan’s request to be transferred to another USAID mission in the region received no answer. Forced to choose between his job and his family, he left Iraq with his wife and went to Dubai. But the United Arab Emirates, like most of Iraq’s neighbors, has not welcomed the Iraqi refugees, and Yaghdan’s visa expires at the end of this month. Rather than living on illegally in Dubai he is seriously thinking of going back to Iraq, which he called “like taking the decision to commit suicide.”

The second is an Iraqi I will call Ali. Ali first went to work as an interpreter for the U.S. military in 2003, but after seeing at least half a dozen friends killed for doing the same job, he quit and found employment in the U.S. embassy in the summer of 2004. He worked there until late 2006, when his family received a threat from al-Qaeda to leave their house in western Baghdad within three days. Ali had literally nowhere to go, and he asked American officials to house him in a trailer in the Green Zone so he could continue working at the embassy with some degree of safety. He was told that he could only stay for a week or two. Having seen other Iraqis at the embassy rejected when they made similar requests, or even fired without good cause, Ali felt that he had no one to support him and he decided to leave the country. “Heaven doesn’t want us and Hell doesn’t want us. Where will we go?” he said. Ali is now seeking asylum in Europe.

There is no conceivable reason why Yaghdan, Ali, and many other Iraqis who risked their lives as friends of America should not be allowed to emigrate here. For years, the administration ignored the problem while the number of Iraqis working for the U.S. government dwindled as a result of murder or exodus. In the past few months, under rising congressional and media pressure, there has been some action: a State Department task force has been formed, with talk of admitting seven thousand Iraqis after they are processed by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. But until now, there is still no clear, expeditious, and safe route to the U.S. available to these most vulnerable Iraqis. And for many of them, time is running out.

I know this first-hand, both from my ongoing contact with Iraqis whom I met during my trip to the region, and as an executive board member of PEN, the international writers organization. PEN American Center has been working to resettle Iraqi writers and translators targeted for death since September 2005, when it received a desperate appeal for help from a group of seven translators from the Mosul area. All of them had received clear, explicit death threats, and most had either survived lethal attacks themselves or had close family member killed in their place. Within a year, two from that original group had been assassinated. Since then, as its case list has grown, PEN has managed to find refuge for seven writers and translators and their families in Europe, mostly in Norway. It has also been pursuing the much more difficult goal of helping some of those on its list reach the U.S. For one group that has been living in hiding in Syria, there has been some progress: last month five were screened by the office of the UNHCR in Damascus and have been referred to the United States for possible resettlement. Now they are waiting for the opportunity to interview with U.S. officials. While they wait, like all Iraqis in Syria they are barred from holding work permits, and several have exhausted their limited financial means. So far, they have received no information on when U.S. interviewers will be in Damascus.

PEN is also working on the cases of several men and women who are essentially trapped inside Iraq, unable to flee the country for lack of resources or for fear they will be killed if they attempt to move. The list includes former translators for Coalition forces and media outlets, two of whom were wounded in attacks, and a teacher and writer targeted for writing articles denouncing terrorism in Iraq. With no avenue available for those still in Iraq to apply for refugee status or seek resettlement, they are waiting, too, for any indication that a system exists where they can present and plead their cases.

[I would note that the lack of navigable systems inside Iraq affects even those who have clear, definite invitations from abroad. Writers and scholars who have been offered fellowships and temporary appointments in U.S. universities, for example, are unable to apply for visas because they possess the discontinued, and no longer recognized, “S” passports. This bureaucratic snafu means that the huge majority of Iraqis are basically confined to their country, barred even from normal international exchanges and travel.]

Congress can play a vital role in obliging the administration to clarify and streamline the process of resettling our Iraqi allies, and to do so with haste. Here are the essential questions that the Departments of State and Homeland Security should be obliged to answer about their current efforts:

1. Are there any plans to review Iraqi requests for asylum in Iraq itself? If not, why not (since “In-Country Processing” has been made available at other times in other countries)? If so, when will the reviews begin, with what resources, and at a capacity of how many cases per month?

2. If the U.S. will not process Iraqis in Iraq, what specific steps will the administration take to help Iraqis find safe transit to other countries where they can be processed, and what resources will it commit to help them survive while they await final review of their refugee status outside Iraq?

3. Where is the U.S. government currently reviewing Iraqis for resettlement? What Department of Homeland Security resources have already been committed to the effort? And how many DHS personnel will eventually be committed to reviewing the cases of Iraqis overseas?

4. How long will these reviews take from start to finish, country by country?

5. What is the administration’s goal for processing and resettling Iraqis in total numbers in the next six months?

6. How many Iraqis does the administration identify as falling under the special category of “working for the United States”? Does the category include contractors who are not direct U.S. government employees? How will these Iraqis be selected and prioritized for processing?

7. Will the provisions of the Patriot Act having to do with “material support” to terrorists be waived for Iraqis who have paid ransom to kidnappers?

These questions are, as they say, in the weeds of the bureaucracy. But what this issue most requires is political leadership at the highest levels. In 1975, President Gerald Ford cut through all the red tape and changed immigration laws almost overnight to rescue Vietnamese friends of America. By the end of that year, over 130,000 had been accepted as immigrants. President Ford later said, “To do less would have added moral shame to humiliation.” However the Iraq war turns out, it is a matter of national honor that we save those Iraqis who sacrificed everything to help the United States. If we do less, history will find moral shame in all of us.