Silent Sistani; Is the country's most potent voice losing its influence?

Byline: Scott Johnson

The plea late last week from the Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani was an unusually modest one. With thousands of American troops sweeping through the streets of Baghdad to prevent an escalation of civil war, and Sunni and Shiite militias continuing to murder civilians every night, Sistani--Iraq's leading Shiite religious authority-- had a simple request. "Desist from traveling abroad," he cautioned his country's politicians in a statement issued through a spokesman, "Come down to the streets and be in touch with the people, to feel their suffering."

It seemed a reasonable enough request. But Sistani's appeal was also striking in its limited ambition. For months, calming statements from the ayatollah held Shiites back from retaliating for killings by Sunni insurgents. But three years of insurgency, sectarian tensions and miserable living conditions have shrunk the space for temperance and given extremists plenty of room to operate. "[Sistani] doesn't have the same degree of influence," says Joost Hilterman, director of the International Crisis Group's Iraq program, based in Jordan. "He may be saying the same things, but fewer people are listening to him." As much as anything, the battle now is about which voices will shape the future of Iraq.

Not too long ago Sistani would have won that contest hands down. When Moqtada al-Sadr, the young radical Shiite leader, laid siege to the Imam Ali shrine and fought U.S. Marines to a standstill in Najaf in the summer and fall of 2004, Sistani put an end to the insurrection in a matter of days upon his return from London, where he was receiving medical treatment. He successfully lobbied to hold elections on an Iraqi timetable and convinced U.S. officials of the need for a referendum on the Iraqi constitution. Sistani's calls for unity after bombings of Shiite shrines worked for a remarkably long time.

But last February, when terrorists struck one of the most important sites in Shia Islam, the Askariya shrine in Samarra, it unleashed a wave of bloodshed that even Sistani couldn't control. "I reiterate my appeal to realize the magnitude of the danger threatening the future of [our] country," he said after the Samarra bombing. Since then the violence has only gotten worse, and Sistani has retreated further into his inner sanctum. "We have noticed that some people feel [Sistani's] calls for restraint aren't protecting them," says Shiite politician Ali al-Dabbagh, who consults with Sistani on a regular basis. "We notice gangs coming out doing revenge. If the violence continues there will be more and more people who won't listen to calls for restraint."

The astute Sistani may be keeping quiet precisely because he realizes the limits of his power--and wants to husband what's left of it. "What would be the decisions that Sistani can make in these circumstances?" says Ihsan Abdul Ridha, 40, a computer technician in Baghdad. "What is the power he has while sitting inside his four walls?" Sistani's constituency, too, has changed, says the ICG's Hilterman. "Sistani's people are still there, but it's mostly elite Shiite ...