M E D I A

IRAQ: IPS Reporter Shot in Baghdad

A young Iraqi journalist Alaa Hassan, who reported for an independent international news agency IPS (Inter Press Service), was shot and killed in Baghdad. Recognised for courageous reporting from the trouble torn country where not many journalists really venture out, Alaa was killed on Jun. 28 by armed men as he drove to work. It appears he was not targeted, but was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, part of the senseless violence engulfing Iraq since the U.S.-led invasion in March 2003.

Hassan was one of IPS's contributors based in Iraq. With colleague Aaron Glantz, he covered the increasing violence and sectarian divisions swallowing up Basra in the south of Iraq; the untold stories of Haditha, raided by the U.S. army last year; and the local reactions over the killing of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, the Jordanian-born leader of al-Qaeda in Iraq.

Originally from Babylon, in central Iraq, Hassan was living in Baghdad, where he leaves behind a new wife who is pregnant with their first child.

Alaa Hassan's death brings the total of reporters and media staff killed in Iraq since the beginning of the U.S.-led war to 131, according the International Federation of Journalists. "The death of another Iraqi journalist fills us with sorrow and anger," said IFJ general secretary Aidan White .The IFJ called on the Iraqi government to "act quickly to bring the killers to justice."

Most of the people killed Jun. 28 (along with the tens of thousands of Iraqi civilians who have died over the last three years) will remain only numbers.  Since he was known well, so his colleagues can tell his story.

Alaa lived near the Tigris River in housing that had been reserved for employees of the ministry of industry when Saddam Hussein was the President.  It is next door to what was once an electronics factory and across the street from the former building of the Institute of Arab National Oil Studies. Both were looted after the U.S. invasion. After that, the U.S. government turned them into military bases. So Alaa's neighbourhood was regularly attacked by insurgents.

The only way from his neighbourhood to central Baghdad was to cross the al-Muthana bridge over the Tigris River, a regular spot for insurgent attacks. Because of an Iraqi police checkpoint and a bend, every car passing over the bridge has to slow down. Killings occur here many times a week. When Alaa crossed the bridge Jun. 28, gunmen sprayed his car with machine-gun fire, killing him with six bullets. A second passenger was seriously injured.

The day he died, Alaa had worried aloud about crossing the bridge. A good friend, Abu Laith, had just been killed there. "He was just coming home from work and randomly someone showed up and shot and killed him," Alaa had said.  "I know it's dangerous to leave the house," he told his brother Salam over the phone. "But what can I do? I have to go on living."

Alaa was always in a difficult situation. "The Americans built a base that's in front of my house that used to be a government institute, and another one across the street," he told his brother. "Now when we go out the Americans are right there at our front door. The wall for the American base is exactly in front of the house. Now it's not safe to go from the house to the main road just a half a kilometer away."

Alaa Hassan was born near ancient Babylon, one of 11 children. His father was a courthouse clerk and his mother a housewife. As a young man, he moved to an area just outside Baghdad and worked as a computer programmer in the ministry of industry. He got married in 2000. Under Saddam's reign, one could not get married (or open a shop or business for that matter) without security clearance. But Alaa apparently married without following proper procedures. He and his wife ran into difficulties with the marriage; eventually someone reported his illegal marriage to the government. Alaa was held in a torture centre for nine months in 2000. "The family had to pay a bribe to find him," his brother Salam recalls. "He was held in a warehouse near the law college. They beat his hands and his body. He had bruises everywhere."

Salam recalls visiting Alaa where he was detained. "It was a big warehouse with a lot of rooms on the top floor. They would do the torture in an open area so all the other prisoners could see. Eventually, they decided to put him on trial. They sentenced him to 25 years in jail but we paid a bribe so it was reduced to three years." Alaa served his sentence at the infamous Abu Ghraib prison, among hardened criminals and political prisoners. He was incarcerated there until just before the U.S. invasion in 2003, when Saddam Hussein announced a general amnesty for all prisoners. Alaa emerged from prison traumatised. He divorced his wife and moved back to Babylon.

As with many Iraqi casualties, it has been difficult for Alaa's family to grieve his death. When one of his brothers called the Baghdad morgue about retrieving his body, an employee advised them not to come because he said the area around the morgue is controlled by insurgents.

So his extended family and friends gathered together -- all armed -- and walked to the morgue together through firing to retrieve the body. When they arrived, they had to pick their way through corpses to find Alaa. Alaa was buried in the holy city of Najaf. It was a difficult trip for the family because the roads are unsafe. The family obtained guards from the Mehdi Army of Shia cleric Muqtada al-Sadr, who escorted the family on the highway to Najaf and provided security for the funeral.

With colleague Alaa Hassan, Aaron Glantz covered the increasing violence and sectarian divisions swallowing up Basra in the south of Iraq; the untold stories of Haditha, raided by the U.S. army last year; and the local reactions over the killing of Abu Musab al-Zarqawi, the Jordanian-born leader of al-Qaeda in Iraq. [Courtesy IPS]

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