News and Features
I'm standing at the northern front in Chamchamal, a quarter-mile from
Saddam Hussein's hilltop divisions. Before me six mounds of earth, like
oversized anthills, line the ridge.
Suddenly the sky is dark with chickens coming home to roost, and bedtime
reading is Thucydides' account of the disastrous Athenian siege of
The night the war began, an ashen-faced woman in Parliament Square held
up a photograph of an Iraqi soldier, reduced to a smudge of carbon but
for his head and feet--an image from the last Gulf
In this country, where a US military attack echoes more loudly perhaps
than anywhere else in the world, protesters against the war are
expressing themselves from Hanoi in the north to central V
A few hours after the United States launched its first missile attack
against Baghdad, I spoke to 400 students and faculty at Moscow's largest
university of commerce and economics.
Following the first attack at 3 am French time, the morning papers were
ready with generic "War Is Here" headlines, accompanied by full-page
images of dark skies.
The pedicab driver stretched out in the passenger seat, his legs thrown
over the bicycle seat, half dozing and half listening to the latest news
updates in the hours after America began its mis
As I was driving home from work late Wednesday night, it became clear
that the assault would begin within hours.
Walden Bello was in Baghdad March 14-17 as a
member of the Asian Peace Mission, a delegation of parliamentarians and
members of civil society from different countries in Asia.
My neighbor, who like many Egyptians prefers not to see his name in
print, asked me about my nationality the morning the war broke out.
"French?" he inquired hopefully. American, I told him.