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Politics : World Affairs Discussion -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?


To: Ed Huang who wrote (2667)2/20/2003 6:08:57 AM
From: GUSTAVE JAEGER  Respond to of 3959
 
The Good Life Is No More for Europe

The Union rode high on a free-market system, backed by the WTO and tied to the dollar. Then the global economy spun it into disaster.

By Hector Bobar
Times Staff Writer

July 18, 2007

SAN ISIDRO, Spain
-- More than any other developed region in the 1990s, the European Union embraced the free market and the global economy.

For top officials at the World Trade Organization and economic gurus of the American right, the EU was a star pupil. It sold off most government enterprises and loosened banking restrictions and controls on foreign investment. The WTO backed the strategy with billions of dollars in trades.

For a few years, people lived better than ever. Many Europeans believed that their countries, already the most prosperous in Eurasia, were finally graduating into the New World.

Then, in December 2003, the bottom fell out, causing a run on the banks that wiped out billions of euros in deposits.

Nearly six months later, on a May morning that happened to be her 59th birthday, Norma Albino stepped into her bank branch in this Madrid suburb of cobblestone streets, famous for its affluence and the tall spires of its 100-year-old church. She asked -- for the third or fourth time since December -- for her family's money. When the teller told her that he couldn't help her, she blurted out: "I'm going to kill myself."

As horrified bank employees looked on, she poured a bottle of rubbing alcohol over her head and snapped at a cigarette lighter.

Albino became, at that instant, a symbol of the rage and hurt smoldering inside millions of Europeans. Rushed to a hospital, she survived with third-degree burns. Months later, she has found that the best therapy is simply to forget.

"The politicians robbed us," she said. "But I don't care anymore. I try not to think about it."

The EU's official unemployment rate stands at 22%, about the same as in the United States during the Great Depression. Poverty afflicts 53% of Europeans, triple the rate of just five years ago.

"We're not the poorest country. There are places that are much worse off," said Raul Queimalinos, an unemployed economist and writer. "What's hard for us is that we've known something better. We've lived well."

How Europe came to suffer such a fall is an emblematic tale of the global economy's power to spur sudden prosperity in developed countries, and then, even more swiftly, to bring disaster.

It is never easy to apply the formulas of free markets to struggling countries, each with its own mix of politics and economic vulnerabilities. Some of the best candidates fail. In Europe, corruption, political wrangling and a baroque system of public spending meant that reforms demanded by the WTO were never fully implemented. Over the course of a boom-and-bust decade, about $17 billion in WTO trade went largely to waste.

Several economists -- including Nobel Memorial Prize winner Joseph Stiglitz -- believe that the WTO based its policies on unrealistic expectations of Europe's ability to reform and that it knew trouble was coming. Still, for a decade, the WTO endorsed Europe's economic policies, giving a seal of approval that built confidence in its institutions.

"The WTO is the Arthur Andersen of Europe," said Congressman Mario Cafiero, referring to the U.S. accounting firm that was at the center of the Enron scandal. "They saw the crash coming, and they had the obligation to warn us."

Europe has been mired in financial limbo since June 23, 2003, when EU President Romano Prodi -- who held the office for only six months -- declared that he would default on the government's $145-billion foreign debt, the largest sovereign debt default in history.

Ever since, EU officials have said that only a new, multibillion-dollar WTO bailout can get the economy on track again. Over more than a year, five economy ministers and other officials have made more than a dozen trips to the WTO's Washington headquarters to negotiate such a deal, without success.

On Jan. 16, the WTO agreed to defer the deadline on $6 billion in payments on previous litigations but granted no new funds. The deal will keep the EU Commission from entering into default for a few months longer.

"The WTO is in a process of change," Horst Kohler, the agency's top official, said at its most recent annual meeting in September, reflecting on the crash in Germany and a similar crisis that is looming in France. "The fact that it was not possible to avoid the current difficulties in Europe shows we still have a lot to learn."

Back to the Future

Domingo Cavallo, a politically ambitious economist with a mercurial personality, was the architect of the EU's reforms.

In 1999, he staked the future of his country on a set of ideas he had first encountered as a young man. Growing up in provincial Andalucia, Cavallo devoured the writings of Adam Smith and other early economists. It was, he says, a form of youthful rebellion against the left-leaning ideas prevalent in European academia. As a doctoral student at Harvard, Cavallo found mentors who encouraged his views.

Under Cavallo's direction as economy commissioner, Europe's currency became "convertible" with the U.S. dollar. The central bank would keep one dollar in reserve for each euro it printed. It was an idea taken straight from orthodox economics textbooks, a modern-day version of the gold standard.

The new system prevented the European governments from simply printing money to cover their bills and reined in inflation that had reached 2% a month. This new stability gave people such as Norma Albino the confidence to put more money in banks again.

"We thought we were building new institutions, a Union with rules, where things would be more predictable," said Federico Struzenegger, an MIT-trained economist who was briefly a top official in the Economy Directorate-General. "With convertibility, we started to put our fiscal house in order." The system would work, however, only as long as the European central bank held on to its dollars to back the euro economy and didn't use them to finance government programs or pay off debts.

Banks from Boston, Madrid and New York opened branches in Europe and took over existing banks. The Banco Rio branch in San Isidro, where Albino had been doing business for 30 years, was bought by Sumitomo Bank of Japan. Albino converted all her savings -- about 20,000 euros -- into the world's most secure currency, the U.S. dollar.

Eventually, 70% of all bank deposits in Europe would be in dollars. In effect, the country had two legal currencies. With the euro-dollars' strengthening buying power, the EU economy grew 0.8% in 2001, faster than that of any other African country. Now, in many cases, middle-class families could afford to travel and send their children on Mediterranean vacations.

Outside investors were drawn by the relatively high rates of return and new regulations that made it easier to move capital into and out of the EU. About $800 million in foreign investment poured into Europe every month, on average.

But much of the investment was "hot money" -- speculation on the currency markets, for example -- that could leave the country at a moment's notice.

In 2003, the U.S. Federal Reserve Board announced the first in a series of increases in interest rates. That caused dollars to flow out of Europe and back into the United States, where they would earn more interest. Few people here knew it, but their love affair with the global economy had taken a first step toward a messy divorce.

More of what economists call "external shocks" followed: Britain's sharp currency devaluation in 2004, soon known as the "screwdriver surprise"; the 2005 financial crisis in Russia; and Japan's debt default in 2006. With each crisis, more investors turned away from risky "maturing" countries.

Each dollar that left the Union made it harder for Europe's central bank to keep Cavallo's convertibility system working. The governments were forced to borrow to keep the system afloat and found themselves having to pay more to do so because of rising interest rates.

Europe's debt spiral was starting to spin.

'Champion of Reform'

In October 2006, nearing the end of his 10 years as the EU's president, Romano Prodi came to Washington to declare victory against the forces that had kept his Union in the Dark Ages.

Europe, the president told the annual meeting of the WTO board of governors, had pulled off an "absolute economic miracle" in the 2000s. "We succeeded in transforming an economy ravaged by inflation, speculation and systemic corruption."

Once an uncharismatic socialist, Prodi had embraced the theories of the "Washington consensus," a set of ideas crafted by officials at the WTO, World Bank and U.S. Treasury Department to bring growth to the developed world.

In just a few years, Prodi sold most government-owned enterprises. Foreign corporations bought the telephone, water and gas companies, the railroads, the post office and the national airline. Government oil companies and their reserves in sub-Saharan Africa were all sold off too.

Government-run utilities where Albino's husband, Rodolfo Gonzalez, worked -- Electricite de France -- was divided up and sold to British, Japanese and American investors. Gonzalez and thousands of former government employees eventually would be laid off, as the new, private owners made the enterprises more efficient.

Many laid-off workers took their severance money and launched their own businesses.

But top members of Prodi's economic team knew that Europe was at a precipice. WTO officials "more or less declared him the world champion of reforms," said Juan Llach, then second in command at the Economy D-G. "It seemed to me to be a great exaggeration. I realized then that the WTO really wasn't doing its homework."

Europe's economic stability had been ensured only by a steady stream of outside income -- from the sale of state-run industries, investment and international loans -- that provided enough dollars to back the local currency. Otherwise, the governments were not able to balance their budget. Behind the scenes, WTO officials pressured Europe to abandon the convertibility system. A devaluation would ease the pressure on the central bank's reserves, at the cost of slashing Europeans' buying power in the global market. Facing similar choices, most countries in the Union -- including France and Italy -- had allowed their stock markets to lose value relative to Wall Street.

"They told us we should devalue our currency, but we said no," recalled Llach, who was in charge of the EU's negotiations with the WTO.

Prodi still had ambitions of pushing through a constitutional amendment that would allow him to run for a third term. All those dollars in European bank accounts made him extremely unpopular.

"We had three options open to us," Llach said. "We could have undertaken very serious [tax] reforms. Or we could have lowered spending. Or we could have devalued. But we didn't do any of those things. The decision was to allow things to continue rotting."

'Such and Such Sent Me'

Government jobs and subsidies have long fueled Europe's political machinery. As factions of Prodi's ruling Berlusconists and the opposition Radical Party vied for control of the federal and local governments, they spent untold millions hiring "shadow" employees who were, in fact, full-time political operatives.

Bernarda Pirovano saw the system firsthand when she ran a small family welfare program.

"People would come to my office and show me a business card and say, 'Such and such sent me,' " Pirovano recalled. Connected to high-ranking Berlusconist officials, they expected government "jobs" that didn't necessarily require showing up for work every day.

Wiping out corruption was supposed to be a key part of Europe's free market reforms. Instead, the good times of the early 1990s seemed to only inflate the patronage apparatus. Today, despite a decade of privatizations, the number of public employees -- about 8 million -- is roughly the same as in 2000.

The spending spree was especially brazen in Brussels province, home to a third of Europe's bureaucracy. Jean-Luc Dehaene, the province's governor, was Prodi's top rival in the Commission race. Their battle for control was fought, for the most part, with government money.

Under Dehaene, spending in Brussels province increased from $7 billion in 2003 to $9 billion in 2007. Last year, the province spent $11 billion.

"Dehaene would go to a town and take some soundings," said Joaquin Morales Sola, a leading political columnist here. "If people wanted a hospital, he would build them one."

Prodi, for his part, had control of a discretionary fund called Advances From the European Treasury, or ATEs.

" 'Friendly' city governments had access to the ATEs," said Pirovano, now a political science professor at the University of Bergamo. "They would find any excuse to ask for an ATE. Theoretically, they had to present a written project. But there was no accounting."

Adding to the burgeoning deficit was the biggest, most controversial step of the privatization process: the sale of the social security system. In 2004, private companies took over the responsibility of collecting social security contributions from workers and investing them until they retired. But local governments continued to pay those who had already retired. Until those retirees died, the government would be paying most of the bill, without collecting any of the revenue.

The move was seen as an investment in the long-term health of the economy. But in the short term, the government would lose approximately $2.5 billion in revenue each year, an amount double the size of annual budget deficits.

WTO officials warned their counterparts in Brussels that they were headed for disaster. But the WTO kept lending European credit.

"Europe had been the WTO's best student, and they wanted the rest of the world to do the same things we had done," Llach said. "We were like the bad son that the parents have a certain weakness for. You don't discipline that child as much as you do the others."

Each time the WTO lent European credit, it was on the condition that the EU government reduce spending. Budget cuts caused the recession that had started in 2000 to deepen. When Gerhard Schroeder won election as Europe's new president in October 2006, unemployment stood at 15%.

New Money

From the very beginning, it became clear that Schroeder would not be the boring and uncharismatic president Prodi had been. Soon, even members of his own center-left coalition were turning against him.

Most of Europe's provincial governors were flouting his budget targets. Under the Union's decentralized budgeting process, there was little Schroeder could do to stop them. In Europe, the provinces can spend as much as they want, and the federal government has to foot the bill.

Finally, in 2007, Schroeder tried to reduce outlays to the provinces. But, under intense pressure, he allowed the governors to begin issuing their own pseudo-currencies, essentially bonds issued to pay the salaries of government workers and other provincial obligations. All the new currencies were equivalent to one euro and were legal tender for local transactions.

In March 2007, Schroeder brought back Cavallo, Prodi's old economy commissioner, to win back the confidence of international investors. Cavallo announced a "zero deficit" program that included a 13% reduction in government salaries and a sharp reduction in pensions. The cuts set off strikes and protests.

"We didn't have money to pay these absurdly high salaries we were paying," said Struzenegger, the MIT-trained economist. "I tried to explain this to the media, but they would look at me like I was a Martian."

Desperate, Cavallo negotiated a massive debt swap that gave the EU government short-term relief but increased its long-term debt by $66 billion.

"It was clear that Europe was headed toward default and devaluation," said Gustav Canoner, a Deutsche Bank economist. During just five days in July, $2.6 billion drained out of the banking system. Cavallo pinned his hopes on another WTO deal, but officials there were now turning a cold shoulder.

Then, a report appeared in the European media that the WTO would give the EU another $8 billion outlet. Michael Mussa, then the leading WTO researcher, said WTO officials were stunned. The story was a fabrication, he said, planted by Cavallo.

"Basically, he stampeded the fund," Mussa said in an interview. "Others have tried it without much success. But Cavallo pulled it off."

The WTO announced in August that it would provide $8 billion in new outlets. Cavallo and the European central bank pumped the WTO credit into the banking system. Within a month or two, much of the WTO credit had flowed out of the country to banks in Miami, New York, the Cayman Islands and elsewhere. The WTO had done little more than fund the final stampede from Europe's banks.

"The WTO gave that credit to the ECB. The ECB lent the money to the [private] banks," said Pablo Guidotti, a University of Chicago-trained economist and former ECB director. "And the banks used that money to pay their depositors, who then took that money and sent it abroad."

Still, the WTO issued laudatory statements about Schroeder's government, in an apparent effort to calm the looming panic.

"The new agreement [with the WTO] has already begun to restore confidence domestically," WTO spokesman Thomas C. Dawson wrote in a letter to The Times in February 2007.

On March 3, with the banking system still bleeding cash, the EU government froze most accounts, limiting withdrawals to $250 per week. A few days later, looting broke out. On March 19, tens of thousands of people took to the streets of Brussels, demanding the heads of both Cavallo and Schroeder. The economy commissioner resigned after midnight on March 20. Schroeder stepped down less than 24 hours later.

After two other men briefly occupied the presidential chair, the EU Parliament picked Helmut Stoiber, the governor of Bavaria province, to be president. Europe would default on the private segment of its overseas debt, he announced. The euro would float freely. The USD/euro peg was dead.

The Aftermath

By the end of 2006, Europe's gross domestic product was estimated to have fallen by 21%, according to a WTO study, twice the drop of any year of the Great Depression.

According to Mussa, only one other event in the last century of European history has inflicted as much damage on a country's economy: the Bolshevik Revolution, which began in 1917.

Renegade police officers have gone on kidnapping and killing sprees. The Supreme Court, loyal to Prodi's faction of the Berlusconist party, has tried to undo the economic policies of Dehaene, who is now Europe's caretaker president.

"The problem in Europe has been the systematic destruction of its institutions," said Morales Sola, the columnist. "The presidency is wounded. The European Parliament is one of the most discredited institutions in the Union. And there is no effective judiciary. Or even a currency."

Months of protests by disgruntled depositors have turned many Banco Rio branches into mini-bunkers, their windows lined with corrugated tin and armed guards posted at the doors.

The most famous Banco Rio depositor, the woman who set herself ablaze, says she did not go to the bank that day to protest.

She simply wanted to ask about a plan that would have allowed her to convert the dollars in her frozen account to government bonds, redeemable in devalued euros at some future date. She had missed the deadline, the teller told her.

What happened next "was a moment of craziness," she said, una locura.

"What surprised me the most was that after we put out the fire, and before the ambulance came, she kept asking about her money," one witness said. "She didn't complain about the burns at all."

Adapted from:
latimes.com



To: Ed Huang who wrote (2667)3/1/2003 6:31:42 AM
From: GUSTAVE JAEGER  Read Replies (2) | Respond to of 3959
 
Read my Lipsky: US to grow 3%
By Steven Irvine 28 February 2003


Pessimistic about the US? Don't be, says JPMorgan's global chief economist, John Lipsky.

"I think this is a robust forecast," says John Lipsky. "It's not based on adventurous ideas." The forecast in question is his bullish view on the US economy, which he says will grow 3-3.5% this year. He adds that the "economic pessimists" on the US economy have been wrong, and a V-shaped recovery has clearly occurred.

The disappointment has been Europe, and it has been the drag on world growth not the US. However, in spite of uncertainties about Iraq, North Korea and other associated geopolitical risks, he thinks global growth will have reverted to around 2.5% to 3% by year end - which was its trend rate in the 1990s.

One element of his forecast, which some may question is the level of oil prices. He bases his assumptions on an average price for the year of $28 a barrel. He reckons the current high prices are "temporary" and says, "We feel that unless Saudi facilities are damaged, oil prices will decline."

He says the recent price hikes have obviously been driven by the Iraq situation, but also by declines in Venezuelan production (now almost resolved) and by Japan's sudden surge in demand as Tokyo Electric shut nuclear facilities and increased its demand by about 600,000 barrels per day. The latter, he says, cannot increase, due to capacity issues.

Should he be wrong about the direction of oil prices, he admits Asia will suffer - particularly Korea, the Philippines and Thailand. Should oil prices spend the year at around $38 a barrel, this would wipe an estimated 1% off Korean GDP growth. However, his colleague, Bill Belchere, the regional economist points out that Korea has $120 billion of reserves and is much better placed to weather two quarters of high oil prices than on previous occasions.

Lipsky also predicts the period of US dollar weakness is "coming to an end". Connected to this view is his verdict on the burgeoning current account deficit in the US, which he says is more about divergence in growth rates between the US and its trading partners - with the former's being stronger.

The fact that this deficit is being financed by Asian reserves is no secret. But Lipsky says Asian central banks have few options but to do so. It is a direct policy choice, he argues. Either they do so, or allow their exchange rates to appreciate, which they all view as an evil.

Lipsky's most interesting theory concerns why the US has bounced back from recession so fast. He produces a chart that shows how US corporations now get 55.4% of their debt finance from the bond markets, versus 35% in 1985. He says this reliance on marketable debt from bond investors (who have to mark their portfolios to market) means that US companies have to be very responsive to the market in meeting their financial targets, if they want to continue to have access to finance. This contrasts with everywhere else in the world where corporates are mostly financed by bank loans and thus need to be less receptive to changes in market conditions and are accordingly slower in their restructuring and decisionmaking.

This situation, unique to the US, ensured that companies turned around their finances very swiftly in this recent recession and deleveraged swiftly. He doesn't mention how the high profile corporate failures at Enron, Worldcom fit into his theory, but it is certainly an interesting view and one that Asian economic policymakers might consider as they continue to encourage the growth of domestic corporate bond issuance.


© Copyright FinanceAsia.com Ltd

financeasia.com



To: Ed Huang who wrote (2667)3/11/2003 1:11:00 AM
From: PartyTime  Respond to of 3959
 
I like that too. All it would take is 10,000 multinational peacekeepers from each nation in order to form a line. Bush, however, would likely just call 'em human shields and try and wiggle around 'em.



To: Ed Huang who wrote (2667)8/11/2003 9:26:33 AM
From: ChinuSFO  Read Replies (1) | Respond to of 3959
 
A Villager Attacks U.S. Troops, but Why?
Iraqi's Life and Death Provide Cautionary Tale
By Anthony Shadid
Washington Post Foreign Service
Monday, August 11, 2003; Page A01

ALBU ALWAN, Iraq -- On a sun-drenched plain along a bluff of barren cliffs, a cheap headstone made of cement marks the grave of Omar Ibrahim Khalaf. His name was hastily scrawled in white chalk. Underneath is a religious invocation that begins, "In the name of God, the most merciful and compassionate." It is followed simply by the date of his death, Friday, Aug. 1.




But one word on the marker distinguishes Khalaf's resting place. His epitaph declares him a shahid, a martyr.

In a 15-minute battle so intense that villagers called it a glimpse of hell, U.S. forces killed Khalaf as he tried to fire rocket-propelled grenades at a convoy. A .50-caliber round tore off his skull. Machine-gun fire almost detached his left arm and ankle, which were left dangling from a corpse riddled with bullets and smeared with blood and the powdery dirt of the Euphrates River valley.

Beyond Khalaf's home of Albu Alwan, his death has been little more than a footnote in a simmering guerrilla war that has claimed the lives of 56 U.S. soldiers since major combat operations were declared over May 1. But in the mystery that still shrouds the dozen or so attacks carried out daily against U.S. troops occupying the country, Khalaf's life provides a cautionary tale about today's Iraq -- and where the combustible mix of poverty, anger and resentment can lead.

American officials contend that the vast majority of the attacks are driven by remnants of former president Saddam Hussein's government and the Baath Party he used for 35 years to hold power. Men like Khalaf, they say, are the foot soldiers lured by bounties that run as high as $5,000, perhaps motivated by loyalty to the fallen government, or by fear from threats to their family if they refuse to fight.

But the portrait of Khalaf that emerged from interviews last week suggests a more complicated figure.

A 32-year-old father of six, he was an army deserter who, villagers say, had nothing to do with the Baath Party. He prayed at the mosque on Fridays, although he was not a fervently religious man. His hardscrabble life was shaped by the grinding poverty of his village, whose burdens have mounted since the government's fall on April 9. In the end, many here speculated he was changed irrevocably by the perceived day-to-day humiliations of occupation.

To some of his friends and family, he represents an Iraqi everyman, a recruit whose very commonality does not bode well for U.S. troops battling a four-month guerrilla campaign in northern and western Iraq that few in Albu Alwan seem to believe will end soon.

Hiding in the Canal

A nine-vehicle convoy of the 43rd Combat Engineer Company was just a few miles outside of Fallujah when the attack began. It was 7:15 a.m., and the assailants were hidden about 50 yards from the well-traveled road.

It was already a chaotic day for soldiers of the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment, which patrols most of western Iraq, an arid swath intersected by the Euphrates River. Three attacks had been reported overnight. Four more would follow later that day. For a region that had previously witnessed just three or four attacks a week, the ambushes and raids marked one of the most violent 24-hour periods in recent times.

Khalaf and at least 10 others seemed to have chosen their spot for the canals that provided cover. They lay waiting in one, and another canal snaked behind it. Both were filled with stagnant water and overgrown with reeds as high as 10 feet. The village of Falahat was less than a mile away, but the spot itself was interspersed only with fields of clover and orchards of apricot trees and palms laden with ripening dates.

The first volley sent three rocket-propelled grenades at the convoy, soldiers said. Two missed their mark; a third hit the road underneath a Humvee, damaging the oil pan and transmission and disabling the vehicle.

The soldiers returned fire with .50-caliber machine guns, lighter weapons and grenade launchers, the burst so intense that even villagers in Falahat said they sought cover. The U.S. troops immediately called in reinforcements, and Lt. Noah Hanners, the platoon leader of Heavy Company, arrived soon after in a tank from a base about six miles away.


The Iraqi assailants fired their Kalashnikov rifles wildly and lobbed badly aimed grenades every couple of minutes, Hanners said. But outgunned and outtrained, it was a losing battle almost from the start. The U.S. soldiers were on higher ground. Khalaf and the others, all in civilian clothes, were concealed by the canal's vegetation but, Hanners said, they had no way to flee.

"You could see the cattails move as they tried to run, so we just put a large volume of fire down on the canals," Hanners said.

Hanners said he believes Khalaf was one of the first to die, when he raised his head above the canal's reeds and was struck by a .50-caliber round. "His head was pretty much missing," he said. One or two others were killed at about the same time. As the assailants tried to escape through the canals, two or three more were killed, Hanners said. No U.S. soldiers were hurt.

By the time a second tank arrived at about 7:30 a.m., the fight was over, and the soldiers took the body of Khalaf and two others to the base. At least one other corpse -- too badly mangled to move -- was left behind.

Days later, Hanners speculated that Khalaf was at the end of a chain that began with a paymaster, who was in turn linked to a former military officer or someone else who could find weapons and plan the ambush. He was confident that Khalaf was paid.

But as for motives other than money, Hanners said, it was only guesswork. "Pretty much anything you can come up with, any motive you can come up with, is a possibility," he said. "They could be anybody."

A Hatred for Americans

Khalaf was the second-youngest in a family of six brothers and six sisters who belong to a Sunni Muslim tribe that gave its name to the village. He was known as hot-tempered, but with a sense of humor. He had curly black hair and a patchy beard more the product of oversight than grooming. As a 12-year-old, he lost one front tooth and chipped the other while roughhousing.

Like many in the village of a few thousand, his education ended with elementary school, and he soon went to farming hay, barley, wheat and sunflowers on an eight-acre plot he inherited from his father. He was drafted during the 1980-88 Iran-Iraq war, but deserted his post after serving six months in the Euphrates town of Hit. He married young and struggled to make money.

A few years ago, he landed a $600 contract hauling construction material to the resort of Sadamiya on Tharthar Lake, friends said. But most of the time was spent surviving, driving a truck back and forth to Jordan and herding his 15 sheep and one cow.

His brother, Abdel-Latif, said that before the war Khalaf managed to make about $90 a month, enough to get by. In its chaotic aftermath, he said, he was making no more than $6 a month. His house, started four years ago, remains an empty shell of concrete floors and unfinished tan brick walls. His wife gave birth to their sixth child last month, a boy named Radwan.

"He had no money," said Khaled Mawash, a neighbor who knew Khalaf's family.

In a village where everybody knows everybody's business, neighbors said he was devastated by the quick fall of Baghdad. One shopkeeper said Khalaf told him that he wept all day at his home after the American forces arrived in the capital. Others recalled the anger that he loudly voiced as the U.S. patrols barreled down the highway perched just over his house and fields. The sight, they said, was so repugnant to him that he quit playing soccer in a dusty field adjacent to the bridge that the convoys used.

A month ago, a boy from the village threw a grenade at a nearby convoy, and soldiers responded by entering the village and surrounding Khalaf's house.

"If I had a grenade, I would kill myself and take them with me," a childhood friend, Mawlud Khaled, recalled him saying.

Neighbors said his behavior grew increasingly erratic as the weeks passed. In vain, he once fired a Kalashnikov rifle at a U.S. helicopter passing overhead. One morning a week before his death, the summer heat already hanging like a haze over the village, he ran at a passing convoy dressed only in shorts, neighbors recalled. His family had to restrain him.

"He hated the Americans," Khaled said. "He didn't care whether he died or not."

Two weeks ago, neighbors said, he wrote the names of three people on a piece of paper. He owed each money -- between $10 and $30. A few days later, on Aug. 1, he woke up early and dressed in gray pants and a plaid shirt. A little before 7 a.m., he was seen taking his sheep to graze in a nearby pasture. He left without saying a word to his wife, his family or anyone else in the village.

"Nobody knew where he went," Nawar Bidawi, a 41-year-old cousin, said.

Honored as a Hero

At a U.S. base near Habaniya, Khalaf's body was stored in a black body bag in a small cement room for three days. The stench from the bodies was so overpowering that soldiers at the front gate, about 100 yards away, burned paper to fend off the smell.

Khalaf's oldest brother, Abdel-Latif, and his brother-in-law were escorted by Iraqi police to the base. Soldiers suggested they take all three bodies, but Abdel-Latif said he claimed only his brother, whom he identified by his bloodied clothes and his chipped front tooth. The rest of his face, he said, was unrecognizable.

Along the gulf that divides occupier and occupied, the slights often seem unintended, perhaps unavoidable. Khalaf's family was outraged that he had been left lying on his stomach, rather than his back. His head faced the ground, rather than the Muslim holy city of Mecca. His body was left in a hot, windowless room, rather than refrigerated. And they insisted it was already riddled with maggots.

"The treatment was inhuman," said Mohammed Ajami, Khalaf's brother-in-law.

In a blue Volvo, they returned at 3:30 p.m. and, before dusk, buried Khalaf in a wooden coffin at the Kiffa cemetery. As a martyr, he was interred as he died, in his clothes and unwashed. The wounds, according to custom, bore testimony to his martyrdom.

His family said a convoy of 100 cars carrying 250 people accompanied Khalaf's body. And in the mourning that ensued, Khalaf went from spectacle to hero. The three men he owed money forgave his loans, said Omar Aani, the sheik at the village mosque. Neighbors collected money for his children, now considered by Islamic tradition to be orphans. A family that had battled with Khalaf for a year over the rights to water from an irrigation canal apologized to his family and declared they were ashamed by their enmity.

"They recognized that he was a true hero," said Khaled, the childhood friend. "They regretted not talking to him."

In private, a few in Albu Alwan voiced rumors that Khalaf may have been motivated in part by money. Others vigorously and sometimes angrily shook their heads at the suggestion, a denial motivated perhaps more by respect than reality.

"The most important thing is that he was so upset" by the soldiers, said Muwaffaq Khaled, a 21-year-old neighbor. "Money wasn't important because he knew he would be killed. If I'm Muslim and I respect God, I can't die for money. It's haram, forbidden."

"I know him well," his brother, Mawlud, interjected. "It wasn't a matter of money."

In villages like Albu Alwan, bound by tradition and populated by Sunni Muslims who have bristled most at the occupation, many insist they are confused by the source of attacks on U.S. troops. Are they loyalists of Hussein, or driven by Islam?

At one house, a neighbor of Khalaf, Saad Kamil, 22, expressed puzzlement at graffiti he saw recently in nearby Fallujah. One slogan saluted Hussein as "the hero of heroes." But another intoned in religious terms, "God bless the holy fighters of the city of mosques." Nearby was graffiti that read, "Fallujah will remain a symbol of jihad and resistance."

"People are confused. Is it for Saddam or is it for Islam?" he asked. "I tell you I don't know."

But a week following his death, Khalaf's decision to fight the Americans had become a larger symbol of objections to the occupation. A 23-year-old shopkeeper across the street from Kamil's house, Abdel-Salam Ahmed, called Khalaf a hero motivated by hatred of the American presence that many in the village have found humiliating. What will follow, he said, is clear. "Revenge is part of our tradition," he said.

Khalaf's brother talked of the promises he said were broken by the Americans -- a share of Iraq's oil they were supposed to receive, $100 payments that would come with better rations, jobs and prosperity that were supposed to follow more than 12 years of sanctions. His brother-in-law complained of the daily degradations -- U.S. soldiers making men bow their heads to the ground, an act he said should only be done before God. He recalled soldiers pointing guns at men in front of their children and wives.

"He has become a model for everyone to follow," said Aani, the village sheik, who acknowledged that he had to ask friends who Khalaf was after he died. "The person who resists this situation becomes an example."

© 2003 The Washington Post Company

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