A Nuclear Nightmare in Baghdad

By Gar Smith, The-Edge. Posted December 2, 2002.

"The United States has conducted two nuclear wars. The first against Japan in 1943, the second in Kuwait and Iraq in 1991." -- Dr. Helen Caldicott.

Takashi Morizumi wasn't sure he'd be allowed into the United States because his passport was stamped with so many entry marks from the Iraqi customs agents. Fortunately, this courageous Japanese photojournalist was allowed to visit the U.S. in late October and, at a packed meeting at the Asia Resource Center in Oakland, California, he hosted a slideshow that gave his audience a stunning -- and oft-times harrowing -- view of life inside Iraq.

But the shock of Morizumi's photos does not lie in revelations of domestic persecution or social privation at the hands of elected Iraqi strongman Saddam Hussein. The evil force that fills the most unsettling frames of Morizumi's photos has its roots in America. That evil finds form in a legacy of twisted bodies, cancer-blistered faces and the silent screams of dying children -- children who have come in contact with the residue of depleted uranium that U.S. forces rained on Kuwait and Iraq during the Gulf War, 11 years ago.

Morizumi's photos of downtown Baghdad capture scenes that look surprising like the core of any large metropolis. Tall buildings festooned with commercial advertising and brand-names tower over crowds of shoppers and commuters shuffling between busy lanes of traffic. There are a few telling differences, however. The distinct dome of a mosque rises between the skyscrapers, signaling that the city lies in the Middle East. And the huge portraits of Saddam Hussein stretched across the facades of downtown high-rises testify that the city is, most definitely, Baghdad.

Morizumi noted with amusement that the portraits of Saddam are not deployed merely for self-aggrandizement. They are also functional.

"They tell you something about what goes on inside the building," Morizumi discovered. If the building served the needs of farmers, there would be a huge picture showing Hussein working in the fields. If the high-rise hosted an office of the state telephone company, the portrait would show Hussein cradling a phone to his ear.

Asked his impression of the average citizen's feeling toward Saddam (who is seldom seen in public), Morizumi stated that the Iraqi leader appears to be thought of as something like "a national "mascot."

A Land of Buried Terror

Despite his nonpartisan role as an independent photojournalist, Morizumi was not completely free to wander about and take photos. Outside the cities he frequently had to deal with security officers assigned to escort him or military personnel who tried to discourage his efforts.

He recalled one occasion when he spotted a Bedouin family off the side of the road. He bolted from his official car and began running into the desert to capture a photo. As he approached the family, the man suddenly pulled a sword from his side and began to brandish it in a threatening manner. At the same time, the Iraqi guards who had been escorting Morizumi's vehicle began firing rifle shots over his head.

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