Religion, Nationalism, and Terror

The Other Front, WP, Sunday, December 14, 2008

By Sarah Chayes

KANDAHAR, Afghanistan

Nurallah strode into our workshop shaking with rage. His mood shattered ours. “This is no government,” he stormed. “The police are like animals.”

The story gushed out of him: There’d been a fender-bender in the Kandahar bazaar, a taxi and a bicycle among wooden-wheeled vegetable carts. Wrenching around to avoid the knot, another cart touched one of the green open-backed trucks the police drive. In seconds, the officers were dragging the man to the chalky dust, beating him — blow after blow to the head, neck, hips, kidneys. Shopkeepers in the nearby stalls began shouting, “What do you want to do, kill him?” The police slung the man into the back of their truck and roared away.

“So he made a mistake,” concluded Nurallah, one of the 13 Afghan men and women who make up my cooperative. “We don’t have a traffic court? They had to beat him?”

In the seven years I’ve lived in this stronghold of the Afghan south — the erstwhile capital of the Taliban and the focus of their renewed assault on the country — most of my conversations with locals about what’s going wrong have centered on corruption and abuse of power. “More than roads, more than schools or wells or electricity, we need good governance,” said Nurallah during yet another discussion a couple of weeks ago.

He had put his finger on the heart of the problem. We and our friends in Kandahar are thunderstruck at recent suggestions that the solution to the hair-raising situation in this country must include a political settlement with “relevant parties” — read, the Taliban. Negotiating with them wouldn’t solve Afghanistan’s problems; it would only exacerbate them. Ask any Afghan what’s really needed, what would render the Taliban irrelevant, and they’ll tell you: improving the behavior of the officials whom the United States and its allies ushered into power after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks.

I write this by flickering light, a fat candle at my right elbow and a kerosene lamp on my left. We get only three or four hours of electricity every couple of days, often from 1 to 5 a.m. Still, the bill has to be paid. To do that, you must wait in a total of eight lines in two different buildings. You almost never get through the whole process without hearing an uncouth bark as your turn comes up: “This desk is closing; come back tomorrow.” Due to the electricity shortage, the power department won’t open new accounts. Officially. But for $600 — 15 times the normal fee and a fortune to Afghans — you can get a meter installed anyway.

A friend recently visited the jail in Urozgan Province, north of Kandahar, where he found 54 prisoners. All but six were untried and uncharged and had been languishing there for months or years. A Kandahar public prosecutor told him how a defendant had once offered him the key to a Lexus if he would just refrain from interfering in a case the man had fixed.