"Everyone, deep in himself, is grateful to the United States that they helped us get rid of this regime," Mr. George said. "But the uncontrolled situation, that is another thing. Why was it not controlled?"

In Baghdad today, as the concrete blast walls multiply, control seems almost unimaginable. Since 2003, three museum employees -- an archaeologist, an accountant and a driver -- have been killed.

"It's hard to know what you can do with security the way it is," said John Russell, an expert in Iraqi archaeology at the Massachusetts College of Art who spent several months in Baghdad coordinating cultural reconstruction for the State Department. "The museum will open some day, but for now it's right to keep a low profile. Nobody wants to be responsible for a disaster."

Least of all Mr. George, who at 55 sees himself as standing guard over his country's history. A love of the outdoor life marked him from childhood, when he would fish with his father, hunt with his grandfather and lead expeditions of scouts. He was set to study English literature at Baghdad University but was steered to a French literature class that he said held no interest for him. He went to see the assistant dean, who told him that the only other opening was in archaeology. "I asked if that meant living in tents and excavating sites, and when he said yes, I jumped at the opportunity," Mr. George recalled.

What he found was an intellectual passion that has endured to this day -- one that brings perspective. "There are stages such as these, and then there are stages of calm," Mr. George reflected. "Each can last 100 years, but it passes. A famous Sumerian writer described the scene here in 2000 B.C., saying that people are looting and killing and nobody knows who the king is. So you see, nothing is new."

Well, a few things are: Mr. George was sitting in a comfortable office with cellphones, a computer, the Internet. American money and American experts have produced results.