Dispatch

The Great Escape

How al Qaeda broke hundreds of bad guys out of the world’s most notorious jail -- and what it means for America.

BAGHDAD — On July 21, the temperature spiked to a sweltering 107 degrees in Baghdad -- brutal heat for the guards and prisoners inside Abu Ghraib's cement confines. Outside, among a patchwork of green farmland and dry brown fields, federal police and army troops -- packing AK-47s, PKC machine guns and sniper rifles -- were positioned throughout the terrain, which is dotted with Sunni farms and villages where insurgents had once launched a guerrilla war against U.S. troops. Within the walls of the infamous prison, the guards -- armed only with pepper spray and clubs -- were the last line of defense from would-be assailants.

At around 9 p.m. that night, as detainees were being counted on the way back to their cells after dinner, the mortars began to fall.

A barrage of more than 40 rounds hit the grounds in rapid succession -- some counted as many as 100 explosions. As guards and detainees scrambled for cover, two car bombs exploded outside, punching a hole in the walls of the massive prison compound.

More than 50 gunmen wearing tribal robes then entered the grounds, wielding pistols, AK-47s, and hand grenades. They had been on the road and in nearby villages, waiting to storm the facility. The power was cut, and the detainees broke out in cries of "God is great."  

The gunmen opened fire on any officer they saw. "The prisoners rioted. Some burned mattresses and clothes, others had stored homemade explosives to hurl at the guards. The infiltrators handed weapons to their jailed comrades. There was screaming and chaos," one of the guards at Abu Ghraib recalled. "We were surrounded."

When the assault ended, 71 prisoners were dead but hundreds of hardened militants had been freed in a stunning attack by al Qaeda's local subsidiary. The exact number is still unclear: The Iraqi government estimated anywhere from 300 to more than 850 detainees, including some arrested by U.S. forces years ago, had been busted out. The fact that the Iraqi security apparatus still does not know exactly how many militants escaped is a stunning admission of incompetence -- and a testament to how badly it was knocked off balance by the assault.

It's not just this one prison break -- there are signs that militants are gaining momentum across the country. Iraq just witnessed its deadliest month since the end of its civil war in 2008: The United Nations announced last week that 1,057 Iraqis had been killed in July.

Al Qaeda's assaults are also becoming more sophisticated. The July 21 attack was coordinated with an assault on Taji Prison, the other main detention facility just north of Baghdad, though no detainees were freed there. Militants have also grown expert at staging coordinated car bombings -- like the wave of attacks on July 29, when 15 car bombs struck Shiite neighborhoods across the country, killing at least 50 people and injuring over 1,000.

The Abu Ghraib prison break was not only a counterterrorism disaster, it laid bare Iraq's political dysfunction. Al Qaeda in Iraq has dashed the hopes of U.S. and Iraqi officials who banked that the 2007-2008 "surge" destroyed the movement, taking advantage of the country's poisonous sectarian politics to regain its strength. Sen. John McCain blamed America's failure to leave a residual U.S. force in the country for the attack. "We won the peace and lost the war. It is really tragic," he said. "And those people who are out of Abu Ghraib now, they are heading right to Syria."

Indeed, Syria's descent into civil war has bolstered al Qaeda's fortunes in the region. The group now identifies itself as the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, in a nod to the fact that its cross-border ambitions stretch from Damascus to Baghdad. While al Qaeda has yet to deploy fighters from Syria for attacks in Iraq, according to a former insurgent, some Syrian jihadists have fled into Iraq and received weapons from Sunni tribes.

In addition to using the Syrian conflict to bolster its reputation among disaffected Sunnis, al Qaeda has sought to recruit supporters by exploiting missteps by Iraq's Shiite-led government.   In its statement claiming responsibility for the jail break, the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant said their operation was carried out as reprisal for the shooting of peaceful Sunni protestors in the northern city of Hawija in April, where security forces killed more than 50 mostly unarmed Sunni protesters.

Meanwhile, the Abu Ghraib prison break debacle has sowed dissension among Iraq's political elite, as members of the ruling class blamed each other for the fiasco.

The rancor started at the top. Prime Minister Nouri al-Maliki accused a key political partner and rival, Shiite cleric Moqtada al-Sadr's followers, who make up a large number of the rank-and-file prison guards in Iraq's penitentiary system, of assisting al Qaeda. "What happened in Abu Ghraib prison was the guards who were inside the prison, are connected to these militias, and it was they who colluded and it was they who opened the doors," Maliki said. The Sadr movement, which holds several government ministries, responded with their own statement mocking the prime minister for "losing his mind."

In turn, Justice Minister Hassan Shimmari blamed the security forces for assisting the prison break. "I had the impression that there was a collusion," Shimmari said on television, saying checkpoints around the prison had been abandoned. "The 120 policemen responsible for this area all disappeared except for an officer and two cops."

Admission after admission has come out in the local media: 200 Sunni prisoners, some of them from al Qaeda, had been transferred to Abu Ghraib just days before the escape; prisoners had easy access to cell phones, so were able to communicate with the prison break plotters in the countdown to the escape. The attack has demoralized Iraqis. Shiite religious clerics have publicly questioned the competence of the security forces and drubbed the government for letting down the families of terror attack victims. "As the criminals return, people will feel depression, frustration, fear and panic," said Sheikh Abdel Mehdi Karbalai, a senior representative of Grand Ayatollah Ali Sistani, the most revered Shiite religious figure in Iraq.

Meanwhile, the surviving guards are angry that they are being treated as accomplices rather than the victims. The justice minister and deputy minister visited them shortly after the attack, in the middle of the night, and continued pointing fingers. "They were blaming us for what happened," one of the guards said.

The guard, however, believes that the corruption that allowed such a disaster reaches much higher up the Iraqi political system. "We are under the impression that some elements from the government and the security troops helped the gunmen," the guard said. "How could so many prisoners disappear within minutes after they left the prison?"

For al Qaeda, the political infighting was icing on the cake of an immensely successful operation. The terror group boasted about the operation in a lengthy statement, bragging that it had "freed the lions" from the "Safaween," or Safavids, a derogatory term for Shiites.

The guards were stunned at the brutality of the assault. One guard pretended to be dead, lying in a pile of his fellow guards' corpses. An al Qaeda fighter was checking the bodies for the living, executing anyone who was still breathing. The guard, who had been shot in the leg, covered himself in blood. A fighter tried to kick his body over, but gave up and moved on. "Thank God, I am still alive," the guard said.

Another guard recalled watching a colleague call out to the shooters: "I am from Abu Ghraib, my name is Othman Omar," a Sunni name. The gunmen assured him he would be safe if he came out, since he belonged to their sect -- when he approached, they shot him dead. Gunmen held one policeman at gunpoint and took his pistol and badge, telling another fighter, "We can use this." Al Qaeda claims they killed more than 100 security forces in the raid; official Iraqi government figures put the number at 10.

The Abu Ghraib prison break may be over, but its effects will reverberate around Iraq and the broader region for many months to come. The men who carried it out are still on the loose, ready to carry out more bombings, stronger than ever. The guards, meanwhile, marveled at the jihadists' confidence and cool.

"They seemed not to be in a rush, they were doing what they wanted, with no confusion," one guard said. "They knew what to do."

WATHIQ KHUZAIE/AFP/Getty Images

Dispatch

Dorky Park

What’s an NSA geek to do with a year in Russia?

MOSCOW — For centuries, foreigners have had a habit of staying in Russia longer than they intended. The European architects engaged by Catherine the Great, the tutors who came to school the 19th-century aristocracy's children, and the businessmen who swarmed into Moscow after the fall of communism -- all arrived in Russia planning on a short stay and ended up staying for months, years, or the rest of their lives, wooed by love, money, or the sheer gruesome fantastic-ness of the place.

Your case is pretty special, Edward. You only came to Moscow for a flight connection, but now find yourself granted asylum for a minimum of a year. You left Sheremetyevo Airport with a grin yesterday, with a stealth wholly in line with the opaque mystery of your five-week stay inside the transit zone. The big question now becomes: What on Earth are you going to do in Russia?

As a long-standing resident of Moscow myself, allow me to give you a few tips.

Get used to grumpiness. It's a decent bet that a smiling Potemkin border guard reserved especially for arriving U.S. dissidents was detailed to stamp you into Russia for the first time, but for the rest of us, friendly officials are like unicorns. They don't exist. Border guards here almost never say a word, even if you greet them with the chirpiest "zdravstvuite" ("hello"). Forget about that verging-on-annoying friendliness one gets from waiters, shop assistants, or random people in elevators in America. From here on in it will be angry glances and accusatory stares, suspicious neighbors and glum shop workers. The U.S. Justice Department might like to have a few words with you, but there'll be punishment enough in Moscow. Show up at the grocery store without exact change to pay for your "doctor's sausage" (don't ask, Edward, just don't ask) and you'll get an earful of barking abuse.

The exception to this will be if you end up living in a building with a "concierge," which in the Moscow incarnation is not a smartly dressed polite man in a suit and hat, but an inquisitive, squinting babushka who will use a combination of your comings and goings, the identity of any visitors you might have, and ceaseless interrogation to put together a complex psychological portrait of you and the other inhabitants of the building. Think of it as an offline, Soviet version of the PRISM program.

Moscow, of course, has spent the past two decades going through wave after wave of change, and if the angry stares get you down, you can always hire a bike and ride with the hipsters at Gorky Park, or party with the nouveau riche at Gypsy, where your newly acquired fame is sure to get you past the strict face control. Indeed, your lawyer Anatoly Kucherena has said that numerous young Russian damsels have already expressed an interest in providing you with shelter, and perhaps much, much more.

Anna Chapman, expelled from the United States as part of a Russian spy ring in 2010, has already proposed to you via Twitter. With the kind of glamorous life she leads now, though, you will need to have deep pockets to keep her happy. Even a coffee can cost upwards of $10 in Moscow, and at the kind of restaurant that someone like Chapman would enjoy, dinner for two is at least $250. (Assuming, of course, that she shows up to the right location for your date.) For now, you say you miss your girlfriend, the acrobatic pole-dancer Lindsay Mills. Perhaps Mills will travel to Moscow to resurrect your relationship, or perhaps you will join the long list of expats in Russia whose relationships are wrecked on the rocks of Slavic temptation.

Aside from what you get up to on a Friday night, there is also the political issue -- and the rather obvious and glaring point that you have received political asylum in a country that does not treat its own whistleblowers in the nicest fashion. The most poignant comparisons have been made with Alexey Navalny, the opposition leader and blogger who leaked information about corruption in the Russian elite and was recently handed a five-year jail sentence (for corruption, ironically), which is currently suspended but will kick in if his appeal is unsuccessful. Human rights isn't a big thing here either: your exit from the airport came on the same day that Russia's sports minister confirmed that gay athletes at next year's Winter Olympics in Sochi would be arrested if they flaunt their homosexuality.

Glenn Greenwald, the reporter with whom you worked, referred to those who pointed out Russia's own treatment of whistleblowers or its new anti-gay laws as "drooling jingoists." I understand, of course, that you were hardly laden down with options of where to go, and a case can certainly be made that staying in a country with a dubious record of its own is preferable to returning to the United States to face charges you believe are unfair.

But what Greenwald seems to miss, or ignore, is that there is a big difference between grudgingly accepting Russia as the best of a set of bad options, and actively trumpeting the beacon of democracy and human rights that is Vladimir Putin's Kremlin. You have previously said that Russia and other countries that offered you asylum were "refusing to compromise their principles in the face of intimidation, they have earned the respect of the world." Your father went even further, thanking President Vladimir Putin for his "courage" in offering asylum to his son.

Whatever drove Putin to offer you asylum, Edward, it is fairly clear that the former KGB man was not motivated by a principled stance of support for whistleblowers. Trust me on that one. The question now is whether you make a few sheepish statements of thanks to the Kremlin and that's it, or whether you become one of the legion of infatuated useful idiots, the most notable being the French actor Gérard Depardieu, who has taken Russian citizenship and struck up a bromance with both Putin and Ramzan Kadyrov, the Kremlin-backed leader of Chechnya accused of all manner of human rights abuses.

Entering into the protection, financial or otherwise, of the Kremlin appears to induce crippling cases of myopia in many people, whether they be Gallic buffoons enjoying their alcohol-soaked twilight or Western presenters working for the Kremlin-funded television station Russia Today. You come across as a much sharper individual, Edward. I am sure you have noticed that when it comes to clandestine surveillance, Russia is not exactly a paragon of democratic transparency. But perhaps you feel that Russia's woes are none of your business, and that your fight is with the U.S. authorities only. If so, then the perfect place for you is indeed Russia Today. The Kremlin-funded channel would almost certainly be delighted to have you. When it comes to America-bashing, nothing is too far out for this channel, which recently confidently asserted that all recent terrorist attacks on U.S. soil have been CIA "false-flag" operations, and once ran an op-ed entitled "911 reasons why 9/11 was (probably) an inside job." The channel airs interview shows fronted by your buddy Julian Assange, and somewhat more unexpectedly, Larry King. The appearance of The Whistleblower, a weekly show fronted by your good self, is more than just an outside possibility.

But the Russian authorities may prefer to keep you quiet. George Blake, the British spy and Soviet agent who fled to Moscow in 1966, is still only allowed to give interviews when he has permission from Russia's Foreign Intelligence Service, even though he is now 90 years old.

Your lawyer Kucherena claimed that you hopped into a normal taxi before heading off to an undisclosed location to meet American "friends." Who these friends are, and how you made them, I have no idea, Edward. But there's a fairly good chance that the Russian security services are keeping several dozen pairs of beady eyes on you.

If you feel comfortable enough to walk the streets, and are allowed to, there is much for you to see and do. There is Red Square and the Kremlin, not to mention Lubyanka, the imposing building that serves as home of the FSB security services (formerly, the KGB). But you probably know all about them already. Then there are the museums, the nightclubs, the delicious Georgian food, and the all-night bars and clubs. Even a kind of nerdy guy can have a lot of fun on his first weekend in Moscow.

A word of advice, however, Edward. If you are approached by a man in a blond wig who suggests meeting for a coffee in the area of Novinsky Boulevard, you should decline politely. And run away, fast.

EPA-PHOTO/EPA/YURI KOCHETKOV