Jean MacKenzie's Notebook:

The 130-year war

The news that an otherwise normal-seeming Afghan policeman killed five British soldiers and wounded six more in Helmand this past week was shocking. It was not, unfortunately, surprising for anyone who has spent a significant amount of time in the volatile southern province. Animosity against the British runs deep in Helmand — much deeper, perhaps, than the British are aware.

When Gulbuddin seized a machine gun and started firing, he was continuing a grudge that had been building in Helmandis for the past 130 years or so.

The Battle of Maiwand may not rank alongside Trafalgar, Waterloo, or Gettysburg in the annals of military history taught to impressionable young schoolchildren in London, Paris, or Boston. But the tale of valiant Afghan warriors triumphing over a superior British army is imbibed with mother’s milk in Helmand.

Facts are much less important than the myth, of course. In reality, the British were outnumbered by at least three to one, operating in unfamiliar terrain. They were betrayed by some of their Afghan supporters, who mutinied and changed sides, and mnay of the thousands of Afghans were untrained and barely armed.

Be that as it may, the British lost most of their expeditionary force — some sources put the total as high as 1700 men; the Afghans lost even more, but given their greater numbers, they were the unquestionable victors.

But Maiwand is a symbol of pride for all Afghans, and for Helmandis in particular. Ask any child over four and he or she will tell the tale of the brave and beautiful Malalai, who rallied the Afghan troops when their fighting spirit was about to fail. Using her veil as a standard, the indomitable heroine cried out “Young love! If you do not fall in the Battle of Maiwand, By God someone is saving you as a token of shame.”

I had never heard of the Battle of Maiwand when I first went to Helmand, in the fall of 2006. But by the time I left in the spring of 2008 it had become a fixture in my mental landscape.

“It’s not as if it was all that long ago,” said an Afghan friend who works as a journalist in Lashkar Gah the provincial capital.

I was astonished the first time an Afghan friend told me with certainty that the British had come to Helmand because they wanted to avenge the blood of the ancestors. I dismissed it as foolishness until I had heard it 20 or 30 times, from people in all walks of life and from many different socio-economic strata. I have also heard from numerous sources the urban legend that Afghans living near Maiwand are often attacked by British soldiers.

“They go crazy when they see the cemetery, and just kill any Afghans they can find,” said one friend. It does not matter that this is nonsense. Afghans believe it.

The Helmandis call the British “ingrezi” — a pejorative term. “Son of an ingrezi” is a popular insult, apt to provoke fisticuffs in the hair-trigger Pashtun-south.

The British came to Helmand in the summer of 2006 as part of the International Security Assistance Force (ISAF), taking over from the U.S.-led Coalition forces. The then defense secretary, John Reid, voiced the hope that the British could quit southern Afghanistan “without a single bullet being fired.”

Millions of ammunition rounds later, the situation is worse than ever.

Given the historical record, Helmand was a strange choice for the British forces. As soon as they got there, things began to unravel. Helmandis nodded sagely and said “see, we told you so.”

They could not believe that the mighty British army could not defeat a ragtag bunch of insurgents, so they chalked up the mess to conscious policy decisions on the part of the “avenging” army.

The Taliban undoubtedly rejoiced when they heard that the British were coming to Helmand. It made their recruiting that much easier.

It was not a Talib but a respected tribal elder who voiced the chilling words “The bones of the British lying in Maiwand are lonely. We will make sure they have company very soon.”

Perhaps Gulbuddin, the soldier who fired the fatal machine-gun burst on Tuesday, had Taliban sympathies. Perhaps he simply snapped. But it is also possible that, regardless of the camaraderie that the British felt they were enjoying with the Afghan police, Gulbuddin regarded them as his historical enemies. He certainly would have had Malalai and Maiwand in his blood.

It is a bitter lesson, but one that needs to be taken on board. The Afghans are not fighting only this war — they are acting out a centuries-old history that to them seems like yesterday.

The unexpected hazards of life in a war zone

It is most inconvenient to take a shower wearing a flak jacket and helmet, but that may have to be my new morning routine. I was at the Kabul Serena Hotel today when two mortar rounds interrupted my post-workout ablutions.

The mind plays strange tricks in times of crisis, and I was determined not to believe that I could really be caught at such a delicate moment.

“It’s just the pipes acting up,” I thought when I heard the boom. “Or perhaps thunder.”

I should have been prepared: The Serena had been attacked once before, in January, 2008. That time was much worse — suicide bombers and gunners gained entry to the hotel itself, killing at least eight, before the police managed to kill or capture the perpetrators. Today it was just mortars, which killed no one and caused little damage.

But I did not know that when an Afghan employee stormed into the locker room and screamed at me to “come, right now!”

I was reluctant to leave the warmth and relative safety of the women’s spa area. In the 2008 attack, it was the one part of the hotel that the insurgents did not invade. The possibility that they might see a woman in dishabille was apparently too daunting for the murderous gunmen who shot people dead as they worked out on the treadmill.

But the woman was insistent, so I quickly threw on some clothes and followed her. Luckily, I had my mobile phone in my hand as I left.

The gym’s reception area was filled with acrid smoke, and I glanced around uneasily, expecting to see the Taliban storm in at any moment.

We ran down into the basement, where about 100 of us huddled in the employee cafeteria while waiting for news.

Those who lived in the hotel had been evacuated from their rooms, and most of them were better prepared than I was. I glanced enviously at their iPhones and body armor, while I flicked my wet hair and wondered nervously what was happening to my documents and other belongings upstairs.

Everyone was in a jovial mood once we learned that nobody had been killed. Most of us had been in Afghanistan for years, and this was all in a day’s work. The biggest inconvenience was the lack of brewed coffee — the employees’ cafeteria could manage only instant.

But the atmosphere turned somber as details emerged of the attack on the U.N. guest house across town. A compound that housed international election workers had been attacked at 6:00 this morning. First we heard that three people had been killed, with several hostages.

The death toll rose as the gun battle continued. By the end we knew that at least six were dead. Many of my co-evacuees were elections workers themselves, and they spent the 90 minutes of our captivity frantically sending and receiving messages, trying to ascertain which of their colleagues might be involved.

By noon I was at my office, located just a few blocks from the U.N.’s besieged guest house. My Afghan colleagues shrugged off the attacks with their customary nonchalance, born, I suppose of years when such things were an everyday occurrence.

“It’s just the beginning,” said one.

He is probably right. We are facing a second round of elections in just 10 days’ time — a poll that few believe in and no one, it seems, really wants. The first round was a shameful charade, and most observers expected little better from this one.

The Taliban have threatened to disrupt the poll — no idle boast, it appears from today’s events.

The war has come to Kabul. I am not sure how much longer it will be before we either have to leave or acquire the hardened carapace of my Kabuli co-workers.

In the meantime, I’m packing my armored vest in my gym bag.

Karzai in Wonderland

I swear I saw a Cheshire-cat grin slowly evaporating around President Hamid Karzai at today’s press conference, where he was hailed as a statesman and a leader for obeying the law.

Karzai beamed as he announced that a second round of elections would be held on Nov. 7, barely two weeks away, even as he obliquely rejected the findings of the Electoral Complaints Commission that necessitated the runoff.

“I leave it to the Afghan people to decide … if I am the winner or not," he said, referring to the first round of voting.

Well, not exactly, Mr. President. According to the law, it was the Independent Election Commission, upon instructions from the Electoral Complaints Commission, that decided that you, in fact, did not receive the 50-percent-plus-one that was secured through what we now know was widespread fraud.

Once the ECC released its findings yesterday, after days of under-the-rug wrangling by various international bulldogs, the IEC, and Karzai himself, had little choice but to bow to the inevitable. Still, the international community treated the Afghan president like Metternich in Vienna for graciously agreeing to do what he was sworn to do – uphold the Constitution and the law of the land.

The array of international figures who stood with Karzai on the dais – the ambassadors of the United States, the United Kingdom, and France, plus U.S. Senator John Kerry and UN Special Representative Kai Eide — raised questions as to whether the international community was maintaining its impartiality.

“It was like a political love-in for Karzai,” was how one international election observer put it.

My Afghan colleague was just as mystified.

“Why are all those diplomats there?” murmured Nasimi, who watched the event with me.

“Karzai is one of the candidates, isn’t he? Where is Abdullah?” Nasimi asked, referring to Abdullah Abdullah is the second-place finisher who will face Karzai in the runoff.

The question is a good one, of course. But with U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton  announcing to CNN that Karzai would almost certainly win a second round, most election watchers here say it is clear who Washington favors.

We keep being told in the international media that Afghanistan is not Switzerland. I, for one, have never been in the slightest doubt that Kabul and Zurich are wildly different entities. I happen to live in the former.

I suppose it is meant to soothe us into thinking that we cannot expect free and fair elections in a conflict-ridden state that is only now emerging from three decades of nightmare.

I agree. But what is the international community’s excuse? One diplomat, who requested anonymity, told me that her boss had just shrugged at the persistent rumors of fraud during the first round.

“What do you expect?” he said. “This election is good enough for the Afghans.”

The United Nations, another international body, was tasked with overseeing the process, and facilitating a valid election.

Ashraf Ghani Ahmadzai, who ran a distant fourth in the presidential elections, was scathing in his criticism of the UN.

“The UN dropped the ball,” he said. “(They) cannot be trusted to conduct free and fair elections.”

I can only imagine what the runoff will look like. The August poll was bad enough, and that was after months of painstaking work. A hastily cobbled-together vote will cost millions of dollars, and more importantly, dozens of lives. And in the end, it will not give us what we so badly need from it – legitimacy.

The Afghan electorate are neither stupid not unsophisticated. One look at Karzai with his honor guard today would quickly dispel the notion that they are in control of their own destiny.

“Good enough for the Afghans”? I don’t think so.

Shady deals behind the scenes in Kabul

For weeks journalists like me have been sitting like jittery hens on a particularly fragile egg, waiting to see when, or if, a winner will be declared in Afghanistan's tragicomic presidential election.

The results have been expected “within days” for the better part of a month. With nothing concrete to report, we swarm the various election commissions, swap rumors and spin increasingly desperate stories about the next steps in this bizarre epic.

On Friday, I reached my limit. It was bad enough that the gym at the Serena Hotel, my solace and refuge, was overflowing with election workers and various hangers-on to the delegations in town.

“Just go home, already,” was my uncharitable inner monologue, as I was waiting for a reportedly brilliant but at the moment extremely annoying U.N. elections guru to vacate my favorite cross-trainer.

But just as I settled for the reclining bike, I received a text message from an election insider. The complaints commission, which was investigating allegations of massive fraud, had made its ruling: incumbent, Hamid Karzai, did not legitimately get more than 50 percent of the vote, and the elections would go to a second round.

However, the ineptly named “independent” election commission, most of whose ruling members were appointed by Karzai, was refusing to accept the findings, and was frantically looking for some justification for its intransigence.

“So much for the process,” I thought sourly. The message did wonders for my workout, however. I was so furious that I pedaled away for an hour.

Not that any of the fuss was made public. Instead, diplomats from around the world very quietly jumped into high gear, trying to pressure or cajole the major players into a more reasonable frame of mind.

Karzai had to be convinced that he could not simply wish himself into an alternate universe. The fraud was too blatant, and too extensive, to be ignored.

His rival, Dr Abdullah Abdullah, was being encouraged to set his sights a bit lower. According to those privy to the talks, Abdullah was not opposed to a power-sharing arrangement — but his demands made it highly unlikely a deal could be struck. He was insisting on 10 ministries out of 24, and the Karzai team balked.

Just to keep things interesting, former U.S. ambassador Zalmay Khalilzad sailed into the mix. Media speculation was divided on what exactly he was supposed to be doing – brokering a deal or lining up a job for himself.

Many people, including my Deep Throat election commission source, thought it was the latter. Khalilzad, who was born in Afghanistan but made his career in the United States, had been angling for a role in his native land for quite some time. As Washington’s ambassador from 2003 to 2005, he was widely thought to be running the country, and was dubbed “the viceroy,” a title that did not seem to displease him.

Now he seemed to want to reprise his former role — this time with the title of “chief executive officer” — a curious moniker for the de facto head of a country.

But plans had been bruited about for months for a “National Executive Council”— a group of experts who would control much of the government, leaving Karzai in place as a figurehead, and not much more. The CEO would head the NEC, and edge the president away from the levers of state.

Meanwhile, erstwhile finance minister and disastrously unsuccessful presidential candidate Ashraf Ghani Ahmadzai was suggesting to a Washington think tank that an interim government might be necessary — just roll the calendar back eight years and begin a new Bonn process. His name, not coincidentally, was mentioned as a possible head for the new, and highly irregular, body. Ashraf Ghani is well thought of in U.S. corridors of power. But at home he is not exactly popular, as witnessed by his final vote tally of less than 3 percent.

As the Russians say, it would all be so funny if it were not so sad.

There is little doubt how this book will end — with Karzai enthroned for another five years. The only question surrounds the genre. Will this tale ultimately be classified as a tragedy or a farce?

A dark anniversary

The world was prepped and ready on Oct. 7, 2001, as the United States, reeling from 9/11, gathered itself to deliver a crushing blow to an enemy who had shattered forever America’s image of itself as an invincible, inviolable power.

The punishment to be meted out would destroy Al Qaeda and its allies, assuage the shock and humiliation of the Twin Tower attacks, and show any miscreants what happens to those who try and take on the world’s only superpower.

It did not quite work out that way.

Eight years on, the United States is bogged down in what increasingly looks like an unwinnable war in Afghanistan.

We are battling a poorly defined enemy, in pursuit of murky goals. Support for the war is waning at home, while in Afghanistan disappointment at the slow pace of reform is rapidly giving way to rage at the failures of the foreign efforts in the country.

Plummeting security, rampant corruption, a flourishing narco-mafia and a badly flawed election have combined to convince many Afghans that the much vaunted ‘democracy” foisted on them is just another trick being played by an international community intent of furthering its own interests at Afghanistan’s expense.

Much of the misery, of course, is being caused by the Afghans themselves. But that is a tough sell in a populace that feels, with some justification, that it has been alternately victimized and neglected by its neighbors over the past few centuries.

The Afghans are not thanking us, nor will they, for these past eight years of hope and despair.

It did not have to be this way. In 2001, most Afghans rejoiced at the departure of the Taliban.

“I was so excited,” recalled Nasimi, a young journalist in Kabul. “Everyone was happy that the Taliban were gone, that those dark days were over.”

He laughs at the memory of lines outside barber shops, as men rushed to rid themselves of the beards the Taliban had insisted they wear. The only problem was that their newly bared chins were a different color from their deeply tanned foreheads, noses, and cheeks.

“Men were running around town with two-toned faces,” he said.

Children were flying kites, music blared from wedding parties, and photo shops arose almost overnight, filling some of the holes left by the Taliban’s harsh, restrictive regime.

But even in those early days, the cracks were beginning to appear, just beneath the surface.

“As excited as I was, I was also a bit nervous,” Nasimi admitted. “We did not want to see the Northern Alliance back in power.”

That was our first, and, some would say, fatal mistake. In our haste to get in and out of Afghanistan so that we could pursue our more "strategic" interests in Iraq, we handed power to some of the most widely loathed figures in the country, while excluding the Taliban from any talks about the future of the country..

“Did we go through all of this just to see Fahim and Dostum back in power?” grumbled Hafiz, referring to two of the “warlords” who helped to divide and destroy Afghanistan during the civil wars of the early 1990s.

Marshal Mohammad Qasim Fahim, former defense minister, is now first vice president to incumbent-in-waiting Hamid Karzai. General Abdul Rashid Dostum held a high-level post in the presidential administration until a public and violent altercation with a political rival forced him into exile in Turkey. But his support for Karzai in the August 20 elections may yet gain him a seat at the table in the new cabinet.

Having dubbed Afghanistan a “fledgling democracy” well on its way to peace and prosperity, the United States could barely wait to turn its attention to more important matters.

The years of neglect have taken their toll. The Taliban, so easily routed by U.S. bombs in 2001, are back, and appear to be stronger than ever. They have a firm grip on at least half of the country, and offensive military operations seem to have little effect. The Taliban, like the Hydra of Greek mythology, just grows multiple heads to replace each one that is lopped off.

What is worse is that our understanding of Afghanistan has progressed little, judging by public statements by powerful people.

We are battling the Taliban, although our stated goal is “to disrupt, dismantle, and defeat Al Qaeda.” If that is so, then we were done in November, 2001. Osama bin Laden and his band scampered over the border to Pakistan almost as soon as ordnance began to explode.

We stayed in Afghanistan, burning down the barn long after the horse had bolted.

Recent statements by U.S. national security advisor James Jones that Al Qaeda’s presence was “diminished” in Afghanistan after eight years of war are more than a bit disingenuous. Al Qaeda was almost non-existent in Afghanistan by the end of 2001.

They are back now, in a limited way, because we are here. The presence of foreign "infidels" on Afghan soil has stirred up the jihadists. And the naturally xenophobic Taliban, whose love for Al Qaeda was never strong, have welcomed them back, because they need all the help they can get.

The truth is, we cannot fight or win this war until we have a better understanding of what it is we are trying to accomplish. Condoleezza Rice’s recent comment that “if you want another terrorist attack in the U.S., abandon Afghanistan” is just fear-mongering, designed more to obscure the point than to clarify it.

At present, despite Barack Obama’s toned-down rhetoric, we are still engaged in what amounts to a global war on terror, while the Taliban, the vast majority of whom are Afghan Pashtuns, are fighting a war of national liberation.

How do you begin to discuss or resolve a conflict where the adversaries are not even on the same plane?

“The Americans say they will only talk to Taliban who have laid down their weapons,” said Mullah Wakil Ahmed Muttawakil, former Taliban foreign minister. “What is there to talk about if you have already surrendered?”

The past eight years have brought some signs of progress: girls in school, women in parliament, a growing economy, an opening of Afghanistan to the world. Kabul now has stable electricity and ATMs, large supermarkets and even a shopping center, complete with an escalator.

Young men and women learn languages and computers, they work and study abroad, and know much more about the world outside than did their older brothers and sisters. It would be much more difficult for the Taliban to impose their brutal and repressive regime on an Internet-savvy, Twittering population. That is all to the good.

But make no mistake: despite the advantages many Afghans have reaped from the international presence here, most would prefer to dispense with our well-meaning but often misdirected “assistance.”

If we do not manage to convince the population of this battered and broken country that they are better off with us here, we will soon find ourselves in an even worse situation.

As the United States re-examines its goals and priorities, and weighs whether or not to ratchet this war up another few notches, the policy planners in Washington should listen to some home-grown truths from Afghanistan.

“We were very tired of fighting in 2001,” said one heavily bearded Pashtun in Kabul. He is a singer, not an insurgent, but the past eight years have made him into a bitter, angry man. “We let the Americans in. But in a few years we will not be tired any more.”
 

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