For the past year, the US-led coalition has lost hundreds of American lives, thousands of Iraqi lives, and billions of dollars in the seemingly single-minded drive to build democracy in Iraq as a foothold in the region. So far, the results have been institutions that are called democratic, but for all intents and purposes are more like country clubs for a chosen few. Whether it’s the Governing Council, which drafted and pushed through an Interim Basic Law (often confused as a “constitution”) behind closed doors or the local councils, which are dominated by religious and tribal leaders, much of the supposed democracy continues to occur out of sight of Iraqi eyes and far from the TV cameras.

Indeed, there are few institutions put in place that can support a democracy in its truest sense. The freewheeling press is still in its infancy and may not be able to take on the upcoming government on June 30, when sovereignty is handed over. Despite the best intentions of many, there are few institutions save for religious ones that will be able to stand up to the pressures of a sovereign Iraqi government that will likely be built out of the remains of the current Governing Council.

That doesn’t mean, however, that democracy is out of reach. Indeed democracy is springing up everywhere in Iraq, just not where you’d expect to find it. In no small irony, even as the institutions put in place by the Coalition risk failing their democratic promise, countless other institutions are proving bulwarks for democratic leadership to come. These institutions--media organizations, student unions, debating societies, women’s groups and more--emphasize time and again that the answer to Iraq's democratic riddle is the stake Iraqis have in the process.

I learned that when almost six months from the day we launched Iraq Today, the country's sole English-language newspaper, I had to tell everyone an obvious fact: we were about to fold.

"Guys," I said, "We're in trouble." Our British backers were losing interest, I explained, and we weren't able to cover our costs. Since our first edition in mid-July 2003, just months after the regime fell to Coalition forces, we'd been publishing every Monday with our circulation mainly focused on the major cities in Iraq. Now there was talk of dropping the print edition for a website and it was unclear how much longer we had to turn things around. But to my surprise, the group breathed a sigh of relief. This was the moment most of them had been waiting for, when they would be asked to get directly involved in the business and when they would be given real responsibilities. I opened the floor for suggestions on how we could improve things and soon I was deluged with good ideas.

In the beginning, we rode in on a wave of excitement and optimism, with visions of one day becoming a major paper in a country that had only known state-sponsored media. We were all Iraqis, and we aimed for authenticity. We lived in homes with our families, not in hotels like most western reporters. We faced all the daily challenges of living in Iraq and understood what made it so difficult. We saw the good news and the bad, and we sought to tell a story that was nuanced and clear. Detention? We had relatives detained. Killings and robberies? We saw them happen down the street. We all knew the feeling of what it’s like when the power goes out for no reason and your washing is still inside the washing machine. Those are the daily nuances the western press doesn’t catch.

We weren't alone as a newspaper, of course. Within weeks of the collapse of the regime, as many as 150 newspapers began circulating in Baghdad alone. The 100 or so printing presses throughout the country rumbled with news, views and reviews on everything from the political situation, to Saddam's darkest secrets to, of course, the latest gossip. The pages blared with Saddam sightings and testimonies by the people his people had tortured. Not surprisingly, most of the newspapers were one-print wonders, many backed by political parties or special interests, some pushed by the American-led Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA), and still others put out by Islamic groups.

These days, a dozen or so regular newspapers have survived the initial shakeout and continue to print, including ours. Iraq Today, however, eventually became the sole English-language paper in town. Others didn’t catch on, didn’t sell or simply didn’t have enough money to survive.

All of my reporters faced trials and tragedies; all had seen war, and all dealt with their experiences differently. The team is made up of Sunnis, Shiites and Christians, but the sectarianism that often characterizes Iraqi political discourse doesn't exist in the newsroom. We typically speak a mix of Arabic and English to help the reporters improve their English, and I insist that the reporters be able to defend their arguments and think through their ideas. In the process of grueling weeks, we have managed to build a team spirit and a sense that we're all in it together.

But in Iraq, telling the truth is the hardest job. Surrounded by agendas, secrets and security concerns, we found that getting answers to the most basic questions was a daunting task, getting a newspaper into people's hands proved fraught with risk, too, and getting advertising was a very hard sell.

As I ran through our books last December, the numbers became ever more untenable. It seemed as if breaking even, much less profitability, was getting further out of reach. It made no sense that the sole English language paper in Iraq could not survive. Then the team showed me why. As they sat round that December morning, they reminded me of the fundamental flaw in our strategy. We had attempted to do all the work ourselves rather than involve them in the decision-making in running the business. For months, they had watched us trip and make mistakes as they remained silent, feeling sidelined. But when I opened up the floor, the ideas began flowing.

Maher Mashhadani, a business reporter, outlined better ways of distributing the paper. Firas Yasseen, the designer, suggested ways of getting closer to advertising firms. Ikhlas Sidi, the office manager, began pushing subscriptions. And soon we had a plan--their plan. We slashed advertising rates. We slashed the newsstand price. We turned the company from a Euro-centric one into an Iraqi-centric one. We invited people into our offices to see who we were and what we were doing and began building relationships with the community.

Soon Iraqis, not just the foreign press, began singing our praises. And in time, business began to roll in as our circulation inched upward each week. And as the team took more ownership of the paper, their journalism improved.

Iraq Today continues to struggle for its financial existence. But in the process, the team members have discovered a lot about each other and now view themselves as exactly that--a team. They all understand what can be accomplished when they work together. Countless other Iraqis are discovering the same. The lessons we've learned managing a new Iraqi newspaper offer lessons for the occupation. When given a roadmap, the Iraqis I have worked with have proven their ability to band together and deliver an outcome as a team. When given a voice and responsibility, they have used it cautiously and in the broader interests of the paper. And when handed a challenge and a leader, they are able to forget their differences to work for the common good.

• For the coalition, the first lesson is to ensure that Iraqis are included in the process. Far too often, Iraqis feel they are preached to, excluded from decision making and served with platitudes. The plan for rebuilding the country and handing back sovereignty should not be American, much less one defined by Iraqi emigres in the governing council with limited legitimacy. It should be Iraqi.
  
  Ayatollah Ali Sistani, in reiterating his call for elections of the interim council in January underscored the fact; only Iraqis can determine their fate. By last week, the Governing Council was still wrangling over the terms of the final structure of an interim government that would take hold after June 30, when the coalition would hand over sovereignty. Even after they signed an Interim Basic Law, now increasingly being termed a constitution, the controversy and wrangling over the country’s future has continued. In typical fashion the process was muddled and confused, full of intrigue and self-interest.
  
  
• The second lesson is to assign responsibilities. Once Iraqi leaders have clear lines of authority and accountability, they will be able to act accordingly and perhaps more efficiently. With accountability they can be taken to task and even sacked for a poor job or corrupt practices. The coalition's real job should be oversight, making sure people do their jobs right rather than doing it for them. Without that accountability, many are floundering or running amuck.
  
  
• The third lesson is to understand that Iraq, at the end of the process, must still be Iraq, not another country. Instead of attempting to fashion the nation into an image of the United States, American policy makers must refashion the country into a better Iraq. The goal, after all, is to bring about much needed reforms, not wipe the slate clean.
  
  
• And finally, the coalition must quash the divisive talk of sectarianism. Growing talk of civil war is bewildering to most Iraqis who feel no real animosity to Sunnis, Shiites or Kurds. Even in the diversity of our newsroom, ethnic tensions have never been a point of discussion amongst the staffs. The reporters treat each other not as Sunni or Shiite, but as colleagues. Iraqis, in turn, must be allowed to treat each other as compatriots. Only then can hopes for democracy be delivered.-Published 25/3/2004©bitterlemons-international.org
  
  Hassan Fattah is editor of Iraq Today and a regular contributor to Time and The New Republic Magazine.

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