I think Todd's questions drive to the heart of the issues being debated in Iraq right now, and I appreciate him taking the time to write them. It's a great way to start the discussion. To me, the greatest legacy of the occupation has probably been the hardening of the country's ethnic and sectarian lines. That phenomenon has come to define politics to a far greater degree than perhaps anytime in Iraqi history. It has possibly set the stage for an intensification of a nascent civil war, and it has made ever more difficult the prospect of reconciliation. I think policy-makers and journalists, myself included, saw Iraq before the invasion as defined by its Sunni, Shiite and Kurdish constituencies. It was, to a degree, although politics were not exclusively organized around them. They are now. In a way, our preconception of the country became its reality. So, when we ask what the American have left to achieve, I guess I would reframe it to ask how we cope with what springs from the dynamics the occupation has already set in place.

Part of Todd's question seems to be what would be the consequence of an American departure. I hear two scenarios. The first: greater anarchy and chaos in the ensuing vacuum, the transformation of a simmering civil war into a full-fledged one. There's another line of thinking, though. Only with an American withdrawal or even a schedule outlining the timing of an eventual withdrawal can Sunni Arabs be coaxed into any kind of political process. I don't know whether that would be the case or not, but I find the prospect compelling. Todd asked what I thought the impact of a continued U.S. presence is. I think, at a deep level, it remains inflammatory. Is it preventing the country's disintegration? Perhaps. But I think it also wrecks the possibility, however remote, of any form of national reconciliation, which is necessary for legitimacy and stability, two qualities that I think the current government would have some difficulty in claiming.

In that vein, a declaration on permanent bases would be powerful, particularly if it came within the context of a timetable. Most Iraqis seem to believe the United States is there to say. The bases themselves have a feel of permanence. Many might dismiss such a declaration as more hollow promises, and sentiments of suspicion and disenchantment run deep in Baghdad and elsewhere, but it would put the U.S. on the record.

On the question of civil war, I don't see a lot of forces working against its intensification. To be honest, there are few national voices in Iraq these days. Ayad Allawi could be suggested as one, but I don't see him playing too great a role right now. Oddly, Muqtada Sadr is probably the figure who most plays up a nationalist discourse. That's in addition to his brand of sometimes messianic, populist religion. Beyond that, it is remarkable the degree to which politics are pronounced in communal terms. If a civil war worsened, I don't necessary see a conflagration. I think you could have an ostensible government in Baghdad, with ministries and embassies around it. In the hinterland, you could have militias staking out turf: Badr, Sadr and so on vying for influence in parts of Baghdad and the south, elements of the insurgency laying claims to land in the west and center, the Kurdish parties competing in the north, with varying degrees of intensity. Their points of intersection would be explosive, though not necessarily numerous.

The last question is a tough one, and I'm not sure the answer. I'm going to speak as a reporter here. I've made the biggest mistakes in my career when I didn't listen to what I was hearing. (The other mistakes were made when I jumped to conclusions without hearing anyone say it.) In general, I don't think I'm looking for conclusions from sentiments and perspectives that are voiced. My goal with the reporting is to complicate the picture, introduce gray into the black and white. If it's confusing, so be it. Iraq is a confusing place. And I think if we embrace that confusion, we're actually one step closer to understanding the country's complexity. There was one point you made in the question that struck me: what Iraqis said in 2002 was different from what they said in the election in 2005 and now. Maybe, and I don't necessarily disagree. But I am struck that amid all the contradiction, nuance, ambivalence and so on, there is a certain consistency in some sentiments. I've always heard of pride, respect, dignity, a strain of nationalism, a sensitivity to power, especially among those without it. I think back to April 9, 2003, when I was standing in Firdaus Square as Saddam's statue fell. No question, there was jubilation. There was relief that the war, at that point, was over. But there was also ambivalence, a fear of the future and anxiety over what an occupation would represent. At a certain level, I remember almost a sense of shame among some that the Americans had to come and topple Saddam, that Iraqis couldn't do it themselves. What I heard in January 2005 sprung from that same perspective. For many, the election was not meaningful in the sense of choosing a candidate, party or platform. It was meaningful as a way of exercising the right to vote. Iraqis, empowered, possessed the instrument of their destiny - not foreigners, not overlords. I don't want to read too much into all that, but I do think amid the cacophony, much has become familiar over the past few years.