The young man with a light beard appeared in CCTV footage glancing right and left as he walked towards an off-licence on a quiet Baghdad street. He placed a cylinder-shaped plastic bag at the corner of the store before jumping on a motorbike and speeding off with a companion. Minutes later, the homemade bomb unleashed a yellowish fireball, shattering the glass shop front and decimating the store. A militia called Ahal Al Qora, or The People of the Villages, claimed responsibility for this, and a series of other attacks against traders who sell alcohol, sharing before and after photos of the shops on their Facebook page. There have been at least a dozen such attacks carried out by several groups in the last month alone. Many are carried out by the young men drawn to the smaller, lesser-known Shiite militias – new offshoots of the network of powerful militias that officially come under official Iraqi security services but in reality, most operate with little government oversight. These groups say they are intent on enforcing specific religious strictures at a time when governmental authority is scattered and weak. The issue cuts to the heart of tensions in Iraq between rise of religious groups within the state and efforts to build a secular system. But it also has deep implications for some of Iraq’s numerous minorities. "I won't give up, even if they bomb us twenty times," Waleed Naiem Yousif told <em>The National</em> from behind a wood counter of his recently repaired shop in Baghdad's Abu Nawas Street next to the Tigris River. His shop was hit earlier this month. “We are in a confrontation,” the 58-year-old added, the shelves and fridges behind him stocked with bottles. Selling and drinking alcohol is legal in Iraq, but risky. Back in the 1950s, Iraq had a liberal society known for progressive laws regarding women, the family and social liberties. Patrons from across the Middle East frequented its restaurants and bars, mostly in Baghdad and the southern city of Basra, right up to the late 1980s. But, as Iraq emerged from the 1991 Gulf War that drove the army from neighbouring Kuwait, Saddam Hussein launched a religious campaign, building big mosques and imposing a ban on the consumption of alcohol in public areas. Then, he regulated the sales, issuing licences only for Christians and Yazidis, non-Muslim minorities. After his fall at the hands of the US invasion in 2003, business initially boomed again in Iraq. With the import restrictions lifted, different kinds of drinks poured into the country and vendors would sell openly in streets. But in the post-invasion chaos, off-licences became a favourite target for both hardline Sunni and Shiite militant groups that came with the rise of the religious institutions, militancy and extremism. After a lull in such attacks, they are back. Today, these attacks range from a stun grenade to frighten business owners to homemade bombs that destroy property, and even targeted killings of traders and consumers. Ahal Al Qora describes off licences as “centres for vice and corruption” and with each post on social media, they warn of more attacks. They are just one of the nearly a dozen new Shiite militias, believed to be linked to influential local Iran-backed militias, that have surfaced in the last year. These new groups have claimed responsibility for recent rocket and bomb attacks against US troops and the US Embassy in Baghdad. Last month, they attacked and burned down a Kurdish political party headquarters in Baghdad after statements made by one of its senior members against the Iran-backed militias. Some like to try to enforce their religious views on the public. In September, they stormed and burned down the offices of a local TV station owned by Sunni politicians because it aired songs during a major mourning period for Shiites. And now they are behind the targeting of off-licences. This wave of religious vigilantism has left minorities worried. “As Christians, we are always under attack here,” said one shop owner whose property was bombed in early November causing losses of nearly $150,000. “We’d rather not be selling alcohol or leave the country, but my father refuses to flee,” he added as workers around him restore his shop. “I’m working to get my business back, but who knows, maybe I’ll get bombed again. We are afraid,” he said, adding that he was considering hiring armed security guards to protect the store. But some traders are defiant. “Whenever they bomb us, we will restore our stores until they give up,” said Mr Yousif, whose shop was also blown up this month. “Every day we have a new militia and attack. We had enough wars, we want to live in peace with security,” he added. Iraqi authorities have deployed police patrols near off-licences, but Mr Yousif prefers to manage his own security. “I have my pistol next to me in the drawer, whoever wants to kill me I’m ready to face him,” he said.
