LONDON, 3 December 2002 — United Nations weapons inspectors continued their checks around Baghdad Sunday while the death toll from an attack by American and British warplanes was being exaggerated in the capital.
The rumors added to the fatalism of the Iraqi people, who see the inspections as merely a cosmetic precursor to a US-led invasion. Even before the first shots have been fired, the already tottering Iraqi economy is on the brink of collapse under the threat of impending conflict.
The slow return toward normality since the Gulf War has disappeared, and businesses, large and small, are winding up every day. The GDP, which fell by 75 percent between 1991 and 1999, is in free-fall again. Before Saddam Hussein embarked on his disastrous wars with Iran and the West, the standard and quality of living in Iraq was judged by international bodies such as the World Bank to be reaching First World standard. In the aftermath of the Gulf War, it dropped to almost “Fourth World” standards.
But, since then, the economy has seen an upturn thanks to a deal by Iraq on trade with the United Nations, as well as profits from the illicit export of oil through Kurdistan and Syria. In the past couple of years, more new cars were on the road, and new shops and restaurants had opened.
The Baghdad trade fair drew record numbers of international companies keen to get a slice of the petroleum-fueled action. But all that has gone into reverse. Hotels such as the Al-Rashid and the Sheraton no longer bustle with businessmen from Paris, Hamburg and Moscow or local wheeler-dealers in their fake Versace suits. The only foreigners evident at restaurants such as the Black and White, and Finjan are journalists, aid workers and UN weapons inspectors.
Ibrahim Hassani’s small furniture business was started with capital sent by his two brothers in Germany. It has built up over the past three years, and he was planning to open a second shop. Instead, he is now making the final preparations to close.
“When people expect war, they are not going to spend money on dining tables and wardrobes”, said 38-year-old Hassani. “What little they do spend is going toward collecting on food and other essential supplies. I cannot blame them — I would not be buying furniture now.
“Everything I have is in this business. But the only realistic thing now is to sell the stock, however little I get for it. I employ nine people, including in my workshop. But I will have to sack them. What can I do? My sales have fallen by 75 percent in the past six months, and I know 10 others who are in the same situation.” For Faris Al-Hadi the drop in revenue has been 70 percent. His company, the Qareeb Trading Agency, is at the top end of the market with the dealership for a range of international concerns. Qareeb sells electrical goods, including brands such as Samsung, Tefal, Moulinex and Rowenta.
“I started in business with my father in 1958, and in the past, when things were good, we dealt with lots of British companies. I used to go to England a lot. But I have never seen it so bad as now,” he said. “11 September was the beginning of things going wrong for us, and then it has just got worse. “When the economy began to improve, people began buying consumer goods. It started with televisions, because families have no entertainment here. But now suppliers like Samsung are less and less interested. They didn’t come to the last trade fair, and the goods that do come in are not being sold.” Hadi and his business colleagues do not hide that one source of import was illegal, through the Gulf States on small boats. But activity by naval vessels there has been increased, including by Iranian ships. Supplies have been impounded and are only redeemable at high cost. “There are people ready to take advantage of the situation Iraq is in now”, said Hadi, dapper in a jacket of Harris tweed. “The problem is that you cannot insure smuggled goods, so we lose,” he continues. “But we are losing in every way now. I cannot see how much longer we can continue”.
Some businessmen, including 61-year-old Basoom Antoon, find themselves not only in dire commercial straits, but also caught up in the country’s political fortunes. His company, Nineveh, produces paint and, under the new United Nations resolution, it is likely to be declared by the Iraqi regime as a place which has potential for “dual use” — military and civil — and so will be inspected by the UN monitors.
Like so much in Iraq, past British connections are evident. On Antoon’s office is a photograph taken with colleagues at Carshalton, Surrey, in 1977 when he went to an industrial seminar organized by Unilever. His machines bear the fading manufacturers’ names of “Sheen Instruments of Richmond, Surrey”, “Torrance”, and “Micromark” of Durham.
“We use titanium dioxide, solvents and pigments for our paints, and they think we are going to use them for what, Scuds?” He laughs. “They are welcome to come here any time. We have been here 35 years, and we have always welcomed foreign visitors.” He becomes serious. “We used to have 20 workers, now it is down to 12. It is very, very tough now”, he says.
“People are not buying. Why should they paint a house which might get bombed? It is not as if we can sell our goods abroad. That ended a long time ago.” Foreign traders who had been working with the regime as brokers, especially in the oil business, see the vast sums they made disappearing if America does come and introduce such pillars of democracy as Exxon and Mobil. A Lebanese entrepreneur, who spent six months of the year in Baghdad, is now upping sticks. He will not be renewing the lease on his five-bedroom house in Arasat. “We have had the good times, it is now time to be prudent”, he says. “Maybe I shall return, but let’s see how the next three, no, six months go.” Among the measures recently introduced by a beleaguered President Saddam to relax some of his regime’s vice-like grip on the country is to remove the draconian tax on those wishing to leave the country, even for short trips abroad. Many young people are now in a rush to make the journey — one way.
Ahmed Mohammed Nasrullah, 27, speaks English and German, and has a degree in mechanical engineering. For the last two years he has been working as a security guard.
“I want to get out of here, like so many of my friends, and I shall do so. There are ways,” he says. “My mother cries because she knows that I have made up my mind. I am afraid I shall never see her again. I shall probably lose my job soon anyway, but I don’t want to lose my life. There is no hope left here.” (The Independent)
