The shelves sag with books on Iraq, good and bad, triumphant and beleaguered. I set out to write a book about Iraqis, who care little about the legacy of David Petraeus or the surge or whether Bremer was the right man. Their lives have been rubbled by our war, which America is well on its way to forgetting. I hope I have done something small to illuminate their story.
Acknowledgment is far too frail a word to thank all the people who have helped this book along its way, too feeble to thank the thousands of Americans who have supported the List Project over the past seven years. I must say up front that there is simply not enough space here to thank everyone who played a part in this story, and I beg their forgiveness if I’ve neglected their names.
My agent, Katherine Flynn, cleared away the low-hanging clouds over this project the first afternoon I met her. She believed in the story at a time when nobody wanted to hear the word Iraq.
Paul Whitlatch calmly managed my first-book neuroses, shepherding an unwieldy herd of pages into the Scribner pen. I am indebted to him for his patient guidance and enthusiasm for this project.
I worried that by the time I finally wrote this book I would be too numbed by the daily stream of tragedy in my in-box to care about these stories. There never would have been a List Project without Yaghdan. He pulled me from my cave of self-pity and never gave up on me. My brothers and I are lucky to call him the fourth Johnson brother. Hayder reminded me why I was so motivated to help in the first place. He is the better human we all wish to find in ourselves and others. My special thanks to Zina and Tara and all the others who shared their incredible experiences with me.
The hundred Iraqis who risked their lives to work alongside me at USAID have never received a just reward. Those who died never will.
The founding law firms of Mayer Brown, Holland and Knight, and Proskauer Rose deserve unending praise. Weil, Gotshal & Manges, Dechert, Crowell & Moring, Kaye Scholer, and Steptoe & Johnson joined the List Project at a critical moment. Marcia Maack and Chris Nugent were indispensible, tireless, and above all, friends. Special thanks to Eric Blinderman, too. There is no happiness in this story without the contribution of these lawyers, whose groundbreaking work saved the lives of more than 1,500 Iraqis on the list. My list will not be the last, and I hope that their efforts can serve as a model for confronting future crises.
My Iraqi sisters and colleagues: Tona Rashad, Basma Zaiber, Ban Hameed, and “E”—the guardians of the list—deserve sainthood in any and every religion. I never imagined when I met them during my first days at USAID in Baghdad that they would wade into the tragic trenches of the crisis every morning for more than half a decade, for meager pay and insufficient recognition. They know the truth of what they accomplished. The rest of us are all bystanders.
Julie Schlosser absorbed the daily mania involved in running an organization and steered the List Project through many rocky straits as the chair of its board, and never let me know if I was overburdening her. Whenever my spirits sank, she was there with encouragement and brilliant counsel. I doubt that I’ll ever be able to thank her adequately, but I’ll keep on trying.
Special thanks to Ann McKittrick Horn and Matt Walleser for putting up with me as a long-distance boss and for keeping the List Project humming throughout it all.
Board members Paul Rieckhoff, Gahl Burt, Meena Ahamed, Frank Wisner, Gina Bianchini, George Packer, and Chris Nugent have each helped the List Project in enduring ways.
My deepest thanks to the anonymous donor whose generosity sustained the List Project for years. I hope I get the opportunity to say that to you in person one day.
Judge Mark Wolf, Marc Kadish, Tim Disney, Steve Hanlon, Whitney Tilson, Rena Shulsky, Sami David, Tom and Jan Thomas, Barb Toney, Drummond Pike, Jane Levikow, Yvette Diaz, Lorin Silverman, Dana and Sky Choi, Harlan Loeb, Peggy Nelson, and many others have been unfailingly generous over the years. There are far too many others to name here, but I hope they recognize the ownership they have in the List Project’s successes.
Gratitude to the tireless Beth Murphy, Kevin Belli, Sean Flynn, and the Principle Pictures team, who spent years filming a documentary on the plight of our Iraqi allies and the List Project’s work.
I am continually inspired by the passionate activism of Netrooters Liz Henry, Maddy Marx, Janice Kelsey, Phil Sweeney, and so many others who opened their homes and lives to newly resettled Iraqis.
I have also learned greatly from Michel Gabaudan, the late Ken Bacon, and the rest of the wonderful team at Refugees International.
Senator Kennedy, rest in peace. Lale Mamaux and Marlene Kaufmann remain a fearless presence on Capitol Hill, working with Representative Alcee Hastings and Senator Ben Cardin. Janice Kaguyutan and Sharon Waxman, thank you. Representatives Gary Ackerman, Earl Blumenauer, and many others in Congress understood what was at stake, and tried to do something.
I am immensely grateful to the institutions that permitted me to work and learn from the company of far greater writers. Special thanks to Gary Smith and the lovely staff of the American Academy in Berlin, Michael Knight at the Wurlitzer Foundation, and the Corporation of Yaddo.
Since we first communicated nearly a decade ago, my friend George Packer has never failed to teach and encourage me. It is one of my greatest honors to have fought the good fight alongside him.
John Wray, T. Christian Miller, Anne Hull, James Wood, Rajiv Chandrasekaran, David Finkel, Dexter Filkins, Azar Nafisi, and Nancy Updike have all been part of a council of elders, bucking my flagging spirits at various points over the years I spent thinking about the book.
Thanks to the doctors, surgeons, and emergency room staff at the Centro Medico in Bournigal. I’m sorry I was so nasty.
Tom Hadfield has been there, bottle opener at the ready, to brainstorm, support, cajole, nudge, distract, console, celebrate, and all the other things the greatest friends do. Along with Max Weiss, Shirley Feldman Weiss, Jesse Dailey, Tim Nelson, Eddie Patel, Justin Sadauskas, Zeba Khan, Christen Hadfield, Naila Ladha, Arie Toporovsky, Barbara Helfgott Hyett, Sherine Hamdy, Usman Khan, James Weatherill, Sharon Yang, and Deb VanDerMolen, I am lucky to have the friends that I do, and even luckier to realize that listing them all here would eliminate any remaining space. They have kept me sane in their own ways, bringing joy to my days, and I’m forever grateful that they endured years of talk about refugees and “moral imperatives.” Thank you for opening your couches during the worst and best of it all.
Loubna El Amine put up with the many deadlines and moments of doubt, periodically abandoning the comforts of Princeton and Beirut to hike down mountain valleys in New Mexico and wade up trout-filled rivers in Montana with me, Xunzi in hand. In the peaks and troughs she set things straight and kept me happy, which is all I could hope for. Marie-Josée Cantin, whose work as an attorney brought thirteen Iraqis on the list to safety, came into my life like an October eclipse. I'm not sure she realizes just how stuck with me she is, and how lucky I feel for that.
How was I fortunate enough to be born into the family I have? The small kingdom of oak and animals and foreign languages on our dead-end street in West Chicago allowed me to venture into the world filled with naïve hope for what it might be. My grammie opened the planet’s doors to us. My mom, who forbade the word boring in our house, taught us to search for joy in life and to love others. My dad lived a life of service that made me proud to have the name I do. My brothers are my best friends, and life would have been unbearably gray without them. Soren taught me to love knowledge. Derek taught me to love friends and to read people. My sister-in-law, Carolyn, has been as close a friend as there is. Ever has brought much happiness to our family. I don’t know if my nephews and nieces Vivian, Anders, Ever T, Owen, Berend, Virginia, and Charlie will ever be allowed to read this book, but I hope they learn one day what amazing parents and grandparents they have.
I have put them all through hell in my life, but somehow they still love me.