by Chris Sands
One night in July gunfire and explosions echoed across a neighbourhood of west Kabul, lasting from 8pm until dawn. Residents in the area turned off their lights and sat in the dark as the fighting continued in the heart of the Afghan capital. It wasn’t long before news filtered through that Jan Mohammed Khan, a close advisor to President Hamid Karzai, had been killed. An MP visiting him also died.
All the Taliban had needed to carry out the attack were two assassins and, almost certainly, some inside help. Nearly a decade after the US-led invasion, this relatively minor incident can begin to explain why peace is further away than ever here. Behind the obvious failure of the government and Nato to provide security is a harsher truth: Khan was despised and feared in his home province of Uruzgan, yet he enjoyed a life of luxury and impunity. In the end, only the Taliban were willing to stop him. That they did so in such a brutal fashion was simply another reminder of their ability to operate anywhere and at anytime.
For while Nato insists the insurgents are on the defensive and progress is being achieved, the reality is that Afghanistan stands on the edge of collapse.
It has been a summer of relentless violence and political turmoil, with the constant grind of roadside bombings, kidnappings, air strikes and special forces raids as the backdrop to those tragedies that occasionally hit the headlines. In classic guerrilla-style, the Taliban have simply adapted their tactics to counter the pressure they faced from the US troop surges ordered after Barack Obama entered the White House.
Central and northern areas have grown more insecure as Nato tries to solidify tentative gains it has made in the south. The coalition has also been unable to halt the murder of several Afghan officials, even after predicting an assassination campaign would occur.
Far from being evidence of the Taliban’s desperation, these are signs that the militants continue to dictate the terms of the conflict. It is they who choose when, where and how the war is fought.
On a series of patrols with a platoon of US soldiers in the eastern province of Khost last month (August) there was no doubt which side had the greater weapons and technology. But all the firepower at the troops’ disposal appeared to be of minimum benefit. Two-thirds of the way into their tour, most yearned to leave a country and culture they did not understand. The surrounding mountains gave the Taliban vital high ground from where to attack and, despite a quiet few weeks, it was obvious they had the enduring advantage.
Ten years on and still resisting the strongest army the world has known, using crude fertiliser bombs, rockets, Kalashnikov rifles and little else, the rebels’ dedication to the cause cannot be seriously questioned. Given this and the fact that the international community’s post-9/11 involvement here has reached its peak, Afghanistan’s future looks dire. Everything from foreign aid money and the numbers of soldiers, to media coverage and the patience of western politicians will soon steadily diminish, and a civil war will probably emerge from the wreckage left behind.
Like other men who have met a similar fate before and since, Jan Mohammed Khan’s past ultimately caught up with him. The same is happening to America and Nato as they struggle to find a dignified exit.
In December there will be major conference on Afghanistan in Bonn, Germany, just as there was a decade earlier. At the meting in 2001 a corrupt and hated elite were enshrined as the rulers of the democratic era, with the Taliban seemingly confined to the ashes of history. Perhaps the fragile peace established then was always destined to crumble eventually. But if the violence of this summer is anything to go by, the cracks in the foundations are now widening at a new and alarming rate.
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