The Tightrope Walker

By Bobby Ghosh/Baghdad

Few politicians owe as much to another country's government as Nouri al-Maliki owes to the Bush Administration. In April, strong U.S. backing catapulted al-Maliki into his job as Iraq's Prime Minister after a two-month impasse over the nomination of his predecessor, Ibrahim al-Jaafari. Sunni and Kurdish politicians say U.S. Ambassador Zalmay Khalilzad leaned heavily on them to back al-Maliki. "Khalilzad made it clear there was only one man on Washington's wish list," a senior Kurdish leader told TIME on condition of anonymity. "Al-Maliki cannot have any doubts about why he got the job."

And so it was slightly surprising last week to watch al-Maliki appear to bite the hand that made him. In an unexpectedly angry response last week to questions about the Haditha slayings, al-Maliki accused U.S. forces of misconduct even beyond the actions of the Marines last Nov. 19.

"This is a phenomenon that has become common among many of the multinational forces," he said. "No respect for citizens, smashing civilian cars and killing on a suspicion or a hunch. It's unacceptable." Iraqis saw in al-Maliki's outburst a bid to counter the perception that he is Washington's stooge. "Maybe he feels he needs to show he doesn't take orders from the American embassy," says Mithal Alussi, one of the few members of Parliament not aligned with any of the power blocs in al-Maliki's national-unity government.

For the moment, U.S. officials are downplaying al-Maliki's tough talk. "The comments from Prime Minister al-Maliki are expected and understood," says a senior adviser to President Bush. Indeed, al-Maliki's remarks may have been intended less for the U.S. government than for members of his own. Haditha is in the restive, Sunni-dominated Anbar province, and al-Maliki needs the support of Sunni politicians just to keep his government functioning. Ayad Jamaluddin, a secular member of Parliament, says al-Maliki's task is "to pilot a plane in which every single passenger has a different destination."

Al-Maliki, 56, is an unlikely unifier. In his previous job as spokesman for al-Jaafari's Islamic Dawa Party, he was known as a Shi'ite partisan. But he gained the trust of some Sunni politicians during last year's tortured negotiations over Iraq's constitution, when he was one of several politicians who helped cobble together a temporary compromise with Sunni and Kurdish groups.

And yet despite being the candidate least objectionable to both Washington and Iraq's feuding parties, al-Maliki comes to the job with considerable liabilities. For one, he lacks a public profile. Most Iraqis had not heard of him when he was named a candidate for al-Jaafari's job. More damaging is the fact that his party is allied with powerful Shi'ite groups that control the very militias he says he wants to crush. Criticizing U.S. troops will help him gain some street cred--if Iraqis believe he is serious. In the 10 weeks since the Haditha incident was made public, he showed little interest in the alleged massacre--until his outburst last week.

But the real test of his resolve will come in the Shi'ite heartland city of Basra. Before he spoke out on Haditha, the Prime Minister's anger was directed at the city's warring Shi'ite gangs. Promising to use "an iron fist" against them, al-Maliki declared a state of emergency in the city. But it will take more than rhetoric to bring the gangs to heel. They too are connected to Shi'ite parties and militias, and the local security forces that are expected to enforce the emergency are infiltrated by partisans.

If he hopes to bring order back to Basra, al-Maliki may well have to turn to the very coalition troops he was lambasting last week.