"Smoke And Mirrors:
The Civilian Claims Process In Iraq"

Rob Eshelman

As the US military convoy crested over the bridge in Baghdad’s al Adahmiya neighborhood, Kasim Husain steered his white Toyota sedan to the side of the road. The final Humvee had just passed when the military convoy came to an abrupt stop. Soldiers exited the rear vehicle and, without warning, opened fire. Bullets smashed through the windows of Kasim’s car killing his cousin, Ali, instantly with a bullet slug to the head. Kasim’s 20-year old son, Akeel, ran from the vehicle and was cut down with two shots to the stomach. As Kasim cradled Akeel’s head in his arms by the roadside, the dying young man asked his father to take care of his wife, who he had just married.
The soldiers suspected that their convoy had come under attack. They were mistaken. No kalashnikovs were found in Kasim's vehicle, no explosives either. Kasim, his son, and cousin were not resistance fighters - they were just returning home. In the new Iraq, this type of tragic accident or military overreaction is more common than one might think. Roadside shootings, unexploded ordinances, abusive house searches and traffic accidents between civilian cars and US tanks are creating a wide population of "post-war" collateral damage.

To manage the emotional and political fallout of these intentional and unintentional US military depredations the Coalition Provisional Authority, which runs Iraq, has set up a quasi-judicial grievance and compensation processes. But thanks to rule by capricious bureaucrats and tight fisted compensation awards the claims process has become little more than a Kafka-esque, paper-work laden runaround that victimized Iraqi civilians say only adds insult to the mounting number of injuries.

The al Rasafah Civilian Military Operation Centers is one of a dozen so-called CMOC offices throughout Baghdad. This is where Iraqi victims, or their families, bring their claims files bulging with medical records, forensic photos and laboriously produced and translated witness affidavits. After hours in line they will, if lucky, be able to make their quick pitch to a military judge who will determine whether the military used inappropriate force. If the answer is yes, which it rarely seems to be, then the CMOC judge will award some amount of compensation. The claims submitted to a CMOC must be for incidents occurring after May 1st 2003 when George Bush declared an end to major combat.

This CMOC office lies on one edge of a sprawling military base situated between an archaic, run-down amusement park and a major Baghdad highway. Or perhaps calling this place an office is an over statement, it's merely an open air table and set of chairs tucked behind large blast protection barriers.

Kasim Husain and Ali's father-in-law, Ismaeel, have come to al Rasafah to submit claims for the wrongful killings of their family members and for damages sustained to Kasim's car.

For three consecutive weeks, Kasim has traveled to al Rasafah and has been unable to submit his papers. Every Wednesday over seventy claimants arrive at six or seven in the morning hoping to submit cases or follow-up on previously filed claims. As they arrive, they sign their name to a roster which they self-supervise. Around nine, the military judge arrives and begins accepting claims. By midday the CMOC closes and those not able to meet with the official are told to return next Wednesday. When the claimants protest they are physically pushed away by soldiers from inside the base.

Today is shaping up to be different though. In a highly risky move, Ismaeel arrived at four in the morning to ensure a place at the head of the line for himself and Kasim. As he approached the base in the pre-dawn darkness, soldiers switched on bright spotlights. Emerging from the halo of light, nervous US soldiers - guns trained on Ismaeel - demanded an explanation as to why he was on the perimeter of an Army base at such an early hour. The bold move paid off - Ismaeel talked down the soldiers and after waiting in the cold has succeeded in getting slots on the roster which will guarantee him and Kasim entry.

By eight in the morning, the shy and still deeply traumatized Kasim is pacing nervously around the parking lot - now engulfed in a thick mixture of heavy diesel exhaust and thick clouds of dust kicked-up by convoys entering the base. There is no waiting area just a single vendor selling stale nuts to the victims seeking justice.

Meanwhile, other claimants begin to arrive. Among them is Salman Khalaf whose13-year old son was shot in the head by a US soldier on May 1st 2003. Following that incident, Salman was given a June appointment to submit his claim. He arrived at the CMOC office at the appropriate time and was told his file had been lost. In September, he returned to file his claim a second time. A soldier told him, 'I'll take care of it.' This rebuilt file was also lost. In October, Salman returned a third time and was told to return in a month.

Arriving for this his fourth meeting, Salman was told he did not have an appointment but the female soldier who turned him away told Salman that "everything was OK because his son was now with Jesus and Mohammed."

Not surprisingly, the continually lost files, broken appointments, and the unapologetic attitude of CMOC officials has frustrated Salman. "If you don't want to give me compensation, just give me my file and I will go."

Another man, not wanting to be identified, is also at al Rasafa to get some answers. He agrees with Salman's assessment. "Is there payment or not? We just want to know. Every week we come here, but every week they say, 'Come back next Wednesday. Come back next Wednesday,' And every Wednesday we get nothing."

According to Captain Steve Brown, a Public Affairs Officer with the Army's 1st Armored Division, CMOCs are set up, "…to deal with incidents happening now, not for things which happened under Saddam. If a US tank runs over a car - the Iraqi people should be compensated."

Capt. Brown says the military judge at the al Rasafa CMOC decides if a claim warrants compensation. "Captain McKenna (the military judge at al Rasafa) uses a 'flowchart,'" says Brown, explaining the criteria for awarding compensation.

However, when asked if a copy of the flowchart is available, Capt. Brown backpedals, "It's not a flowchart, but more like a process." Brown cannot comment on the process. "Only Captain McKenna and a few other military JAGs are privy to the details of the process." But Brown says, the military judge, "…is not permitted to speak with journalists."

Then Brown changes course and offers a copy of the "process" for review. Asked why a copy would be offered to a journalist and not Iraqis who are filling claims, he responds, "Security is compromised by allowing Iraqis to see the process."

"The claimants could organize files but they don't know what they are supposed to file," says Paola Gasparoli, researcher for the International Occupation Watch Center.

No copies of military procedures are available to attorneys, human rights activists, or Iraqis. "Iraqi lawyers don't have any idea of the process for awarding compensation. They know it only from their experience," says Gasparoli. But the experience of the attorneys isn't sufficient either as the situation and standards at CMOCs are always changing. "Different CMOC offices have different processes," says Gasparoli.

Like many of the Iraqis she works with Gasparoli questions how much of this chaos is intentional. "Why are files missing? The US is the most powerful nation in the world and you can't organize files. If this is deliberate, that is the worst."

Around 10:30 Kasim and Ismaeel emerge from the behind the blast barriers. They've just met separately with the helmeted and flack-jacketed Captain McKenna. Ismaeel was told to come back with information on the US military unit involved in the incident, while Kasim was told by McKenna that perhaps they were shot at under a "combat situation", therefore exempt from compensation - same case, two different responses.

"I don't know what's happening," says Ismaeel looking perplexed. "What's the secret?" Meanwhile, Kasim has silently walked off into the dusty morass of passing military vehicles and Iraqis waiting for their turn to present their claim.