Enough!

In 2001, we Americans invade Afghanistan and side with a predominantly Tajik Northern Alliance that, at the time were getting their ass kicked by the Taliban, a predominantly Pashtun group.  We immediately help form a government that includes Tajiks in a majority of high government positions (although not the President).  Security comes quickly to the northern, Tajik areas and we take the fight to the Taliban.  Much later, in an effort to secure long-term peace, we engage in talks with the Taliban using a principal Tajik leader as our pointman.  This Tajik was killed a few days ago by a Pashtun bearing a TBIED (or Turban Borne Improvised Explosive Device).  Yeah, fairly macabre – embrace it! 

So what happens at the demonstrations mourning this dude’s death?  Chants, by Tajiks, of “Death to America!  WTF?  Really?  Most of these asshats would be dead or reduced to poverty under Taliban rule, but they are instead suckling at the teat of the American money spigot and they have the nerve to chant “Death to America!?”  It’s past time to pack our trash and go home.  I say let them fight it out.  We’re only in an ethnic cleansing lull anyway. 

Afghanistan, you must understand, is like a recidivist drug abuser.  You know what I’m talking about – the guy that has relapsed multiple times, dropped out of rehab more time than you can count.  No matter who helps him, he continues to go back to the drugs, even as he knows that it will kill him.  Yet, there is always that one idealistic person that stands ready to help, ready to pour their heart and soul into curing him even as he knows the effort will fail.  America is that person.  Sucker. 

As I contemplate the futility of our efforts here given the population’s apathy or outright hostility to American-led efforts (and I’m not talking about the Taliban and associated groups either), I came across one politician’s solution.  Apparently, our intel reveals a connection between some of the recent attacks in Kabul and ISI, the Pakistani intelligence agency.  Wow!  What a revelation!  It ranks right up there with the sky is blue, grass is green and the Chicago Cubs will always suck.  Tell us something we don’t already know.

Anyway, this “elder statesman” wants to take military action against Pakistan.  The slippery slope dictates this will eventually mean boots on the ground since these guys will never advocate cutting our losses if action short of boots on the ground does not work (you only have to look at their statements on Afghanistan to recognize this).  So let me see if I get this straight: we’ve been in Afghanistan for ten years and have had thousands of troops on the ground to eliminate a threat posed by a “weak” (the term used by our leaders, not me), backward, uneducated militia.  In that time, we’ve expended vast amounts of money and sacrificed the lives of brave souls and we still haven’t succeeded in taming a country of roughly 30 million.  And what is the solution?  Take military action against an even more militant country (after all they supply these fanatical folks) with a population of over 175 million?  Oh, and did I mention they have nukes?  What do you think will happen when the Christian invaders come?  Maybe we’ll be greeted with cheers and flowers like in Iraq.  Oops, wait a minute….

I see the mind-numbing futility of this effort here and am saddened.  However, these calls to broaden the war or remain longer cause me great anger.  I just don’t want to see a time where my son is drafted and sent over here to participate in a needless effort that no longer has any real bearing on our national security so that politicians can fulfill their own visions of grandeur or some idea of a world that looks like America.  You can’t have my son, Mr. Graham.

Conflict Within

“Get the hell out of my office, Bellflower” he said as I walked in.  “But, Sir…” I started to say.  He cut me off abruptly: “I know why you’re here.  Get out!” his voice growing a bit louder and tinged with a degree of exasperation.  “Sir, I want to submit an AA form for transfer,” I quickly blurted out.  “You and every other Marine here,” he yelled, “now get the hell out of here. You’ll probably get your wish soon enough.”  I didn’t.  It was August, 1991, and I was in the Philippines while my old unit, the Second Battalion, Fourth Marines, was in Saudi Arabia for what was shaping up to be the Gulf War.  The game was starting and I damn sure didn’t want to be caught riding pine.  I never did get there.  I went on a jungle patrol and the whole thing was over by the time I got back.  Maybe that’s why we underestimated the situation and stepped in some Shiite in the 2003 version.

I hadn’t thought of that in years – not until I read this story by a soldier just as fed up with his role in this war as I am.  Apparently, this is a common feeling among those military folks assigned to Kabul – at least if actions taken during our recent attack is any indication.  As you likely know by now, insurgents recently attacked the Embassy and ISAF compounds.  Reports indicate that personnel charged with administrative, rather than security, duties grabbed their weapons, headed to the wall and returned fire.  Despite the absence of a clearly identified target, indeed the insurgents were in a building roughly 1 kilometer away, these personnel expended a significant amount of ammunition in their attempt to “schwack” the bad guy.  This is despite the fact that the building itself, much less the insurgents inside, were outside the effective range of the personal weapons used. 

Although I do not condone returning fire in the absence of a clearly identified target, I can certainly understand the desire to do something – something that at least makes you feel as if you are contributing.  Many folks here, myself included, are underutilized or used wholly outside their skill set.  The result is that folks spend their day “coordinating” among various agencies at endless meetings or preparing PowerPoint slides that seem to convey and endless amount of useless “facts” (you can reviews my posts on metrics for clarification here) or any other number of things that makes one feel useless.  As we go through our day like this, we are acutely aware of the corruption within the Afghan government that torpedoes our overall efforts at establishing that government’s legitimacy with the populace.  We are also aware that insurgents (or my favorite euphemism, malign actors; how is that for sanitization?) are making inroads everywhere but in the south, including in the provinces adjacent to Kabul.  Moreover, we see a shift in opinion regarding the viability of the Afghan government after 2014, the time set for US withdrawal.

All of this leads most folks to conclude that the only thing working here is counter-terrorism.  In other words, our efforts to rebuild Afghanistan through the tactics of counterinsurgency or COIN are failing, but counter-terrorism is working quite well.  Counter-terrorism is essentially the selective targeting of insurgents and their leaders through night raids, drone attacks, and/or conventional operations.  In other words, it is the killing that works here (see 11 Sept post).  Thus, it becomes almost natural, when the opportunity presents itself, to try and contribute meaningfully, even if that contribution entails possibly killing someone.  So, yes, I get what the author of the post linked above is going through.  I, however, do not feel the apparent shame he does.  I, like all other military folks, signed a blank check to the United States when I joined the military.  It is up to the military to use me as they see fit.  I may not always agree with how they use me, but I made an agreement.  The honor is in living up to that agreement.  But, I do wish it were different sometimes.

Indeed, it’s the frustration that gets you.  You contemplate the seeming meaningless of your own contributions.  You read the casualty reports and seethe with anger.  You want to help.  You want to take your position on the firing line (although intuitively realizing, at least in my case, that you really are too old for that stuff).  Yeah, I get it – all to well.  Sometimes though, I wonder if I’d feel better about my contribution to the war effort if my job involved killing.  God, forgive me.

Pain

As I sit in Kabul on the tenth anniversary of 9/11, I’m filled with a sense of despondency.  One might think this a normal reaction to the anniversary of an event that has become seared in the memory of my generation.  However, it is not 9/11 per se that causes this feeling – although it is certainly related to it.  At the time of the event that cast aside notions of law and order, justice and righteousness, I was in a courtroom.  My second thought was one of irony for I innately felt the dichotomy between the events occurring in New York, Arlington, and Shanksville and those happening in my courtroom.  One set of events encapsulated all that is wrong with the world while the other captures the dreams of men like Voltaire and Locke.  My first thought, however, ruled that day and continues to do so to this day.

On seeing the second plane rip through tower two, I knew it was no accident; I knew we were going to war.  It was not fear that gripped me, it was vengeance.  I knew enough of American history to know that the same feeling would permeate every line of thinking and every suggested course of action for most Americans, particularly our leaders.  Events such as 9/11, like Pearl Harbor in WWII, unrestricted U-Boat warfare in WWI and the sinking of the USS Maine in the Spanish-American war before it, awake the demons in the American psyche.  America tends to have a visceral reaction to attacks on it.   

Although somewhat isolationist by default (recent history notwithstanding; indeed we even see the reemergence of this now), America is, as Winton Churchill once said, like a teapot – once a fire is lit under it, there is no limit to the power it can produce.  This is certainly true in the military realm.  In response to the sinking of the USS Maine (history debates the actual cause), the US ended Spanish imperialism.  After Germany began unrestricted attacks on American maritime commerce, the US joined Britain and France in so thoroughly defeating the Central Powers that two of the Empires ceased to exist and one, Germany, was humiliated as no nation had been before.  Pearl Harbor brought a level of death and destruction that the world had never seen.  Entire cities were razed and fire bombed, nuclear power was employed and the three main enemy powers remain militarily hobbled and occupied to this very day. 

In recent history, however, we have gotten away from this method of warfare.  Notions of limited war, wherein the means of warfare are constricted not by law but by choice, are the order of the day in the employment of American military power.  Perhaps it is the legacy of Vietnam; I leave others to debate its origin as I simply wish to acknowledge its presence.  Today, we attempt to combine the application of military might with means of persuasion, economic in particular, in order to get our enemy to do our bidding.  With the one hand we strike while the other offers money to rebuild.  Imagine if you will, a confrontation with your nemesis wherein he slaps you and then offers you a bit of money.  Do you forgive the slap and attempt to forge a friendship with him because has offered money?  Or do you simply take the money, feign friendship, and plot your revenge?  Most of our adversaries choose some form of the latter course of action.  However, we continue to try purchasing friendship despite the mounting evidence that it simply does not work and a realization that the coffers are getting a bit low.

Our primary mistake in the aftermath of 9/11, one perpetrated by the Bush Administration, was to broaden our adversary base.  Rather than assess our enemy as encompassing the entity that actually attacked us, we declared war on terrorism.  Think about this for a moment: for the first time in history (at least that I am aware of) a nation declared war on a tactic, on a method of waging war.  How do you defeat such a thing?  In Afghanistan, this line of approach metastasized into a refocus from Al Qaeda (the primary threat) to the Taliban (the secondary threat).  This occurred because we moved from a strategy of coercion to a strategy of persuasion.  Rather than simply employ military power to eliminate the threat posed by Al Qaeda we now seek to persuade a populace, including the Taliban, to do as we wish.  In this respect, we have forgotten Clausewitz, who is viewed as the backbone of western military thinking.  Clausewitz says that we should “pursue one great decisive aim with force and determination.”  We have strayed from this thinking in Afghanistan by simultaneously trying to defeat an enemy and build a nation (notice I say build rather than rebuild, if you’ve been here you’ll know why).  Rather than doggedly pursue the objective of eliminating the threat posed by Al Qaeda, we’ve become bogged down in an effort to get Afghans to like us (through a method known as COIN, or counterinsurgency).  We Americans seem to have some form of psychosis wherein we crave approval, even from those we fight or who, if we truly admit it, don’t really matter.  This is why we’ve spent so much money here in a wasted effort.

This psychosis has permeated our method of warfare to the extent that we have forgotten another Clausewitz lesson: “war therefore is an act of violence to compel our opponent to fulfill our will.”  Thus, war is not about buying favor, it is about violence.  Although some readers may feel discomfort at this notion, it has been true since man first picked up a club to defend his procurement of the carcass of some dead animal.  When all other means fail, man must commit acts of violence to compel another to do his bidding.  Like it or not, it is the nature of man.  This violence entails the imposition of death and destruction.  The enemy must be put to the sword; his means of livelihood must be extinguished; he must, in the words of William Tecumseh Sherman, be made to “howl” for war on the enemy must be made “as severe as possible, and show no symptoms of tiring till the [enemy] begs for mercy.”

In today’s instant media world, politicians shirk at the concept of war as it is and seek to develop a more genteel method of waging war.  Despite the lessons of history, they strive for bloodless war.  This is an imaginative concept that resides in the realm of utopianism.  Indeed, this fallacy presents not an opportunity for success against an enemy, but failure.  Consider the massive amount of money spent delivering modernity to Afghanistan.  We have built dams, constructed various buildings, and installed an electrical power grid in a country in which much of the population resides in the 17^th century vis-à-vis technology and mindset.  Thus, we’ve generated expectations of modernity in a society that had no previous expectations of it in a war in which the enemy can expend little energy in thwarting our efforts at meeting those expectations.  Moreover, by doing so, we’ve added another dimension in the fight for legitimacy (the Holy Grail of a counterinsurgency effort).  Typically, a counterinsurgency seeks to establish legitimacy through effective governance.  In trying to buy loyalty through the provision of modernity, the ability to supply that modernity becomes a subcomponent of legitimacy – fail to provide it and you are deemed illegitimate.  Thus, having determined to buy legitimacy, we lose not by being defeated militarily or by failing to establish governance, but by failing to keep the lights on.

In seeking to refine warfare, counterinsurgency, as employed today, generates the conditions necessary to defeat it.  It creates a vicious circle wherein the enemy is hunted down (killing civilians in the process), surviving civilians are mollified with development projects at huge expense, while the enemy simply attacks those projects to demonstrate the illegitimacy of the counterinsurgent.  Moreover, the byzantine process of engaging in development exacerbates the situation since repairs in combat areas are delayed for too long to have an immediate impact, assuming that they could have a desired impact.  Thus, by the time a project is begun in an effort to “win over” the local population that has been disrupted by the fighting, they’ve already chosen the other side or committed to a policy of ambivalence in the absence of a clear winner. 

Some may argue that COIN can indeed work if given enough time.  This argument is often heard from chicken-hawk politicians whose war zone tours consist of the social circuit in Kabul, or perhaps a heavily guarded foray to a forward operating base for an hour or so.  They, and like-minded individuals, often point to the British counterinsurgency operation in Malaysia as support, conveniently forgetting the forced relocation of civilians that permitted success there.  False comparison aside, however, this argument appears to have merit.  Almost anything, if given enough time, has the potential for success.  This argument, however, is specious and misses the point.  Those making this argument view the end state from a COIN perspective rather than a threat perspective.  They argue that we can convert the populace to our side if given enough time and money.  But the threat did not emanate from the Afghan population.  It came from Al Qaeda and Al Qaeda is defeated.  Just this morning, on a cable news show, terrorism expert Peter Bergen said that Al Qaeda’s last significant attack was the London attack on 7 July 2007.   Shortly after taking office, Secretary of Defense Leon Panetta said that Al Qaeda’s key leadership had been reduced to less than two-dozen people, most of whom are no longer in Afghanistan.  Yet we remain.

Why is it that we are still here when the entity that posed the threat has been defeated and scattered?  Some say inertia, others claim some conspiracy between the military, hawkish politicians, and defense contractors.  The real reason though has to do with the initial mistake made by the Bush Administration.  By declaring war on terrorism, we lost sight of the fact that war simply entails using violence to inflict such a degree of pain upon the enemy that he determines that the end he sought is not worth the pain being inflicted.  In other words, violence is used to alter his cost-benefit analysis; it becomes worth more to him to stop the pain than to do that which you do not want him to do.  But if we pull out of Afghanistan, might Al Qaeda reconstitute and pose a threat again?  Sure, this is always a possibility.  We may miscalculate the degree of pain needed.  When that occurs, however, more pain can be inflicted.  It is much cheaper, in both blood and treasure, to revisit the situation as needed than to remain mired in an effort that is so costly and has so little chance of ultimate success.  Our strategy in any war should be to inflict as much pain as possible on the enemy.  Instead, we’ve pursued a strategy of persuasion and we’re the only one feeling the pain. 

We would do well to recall Clausewitz's warning on this topic:  "We are not interested in generals who win victories without bloodshed.  The fact that slaughter is a horrifying spectacle must make us take war more seriously, but not provide an excuse for gradually blunting our swords in the name of humanity.  Sooner or later someone will come along with a sharp sword and hack off our arms."

Simple Things

I really dislike walking through rocks.  Even in my boots, it causes that uneven footing that inevitably leads to turning an ankle or slipping.  Folks back in the States use rocks to zero-scape their yard because they’re either too lazy or too inefficient to keep up a good yard.  I definitely fall into this category as I completely suck at keeping a lush lawn.  However, I don’t use the rocks because I loathe them.  I loathe them because they remind me of being deployed.  Rocks are ubiquitous on FOBs or Forward Operating Bases around the world.  Whenever possible, though, I avoid walking on the rocks.  It’s almost an obsession. 

While recently strolling, or more appropriately stumbling, along a rocky pathway like a pinball, I began thinking about how I missed walking in the lush, green grass at home.  You know that early morning walk around the yard in your bare feet when the grass is still cold from the night’s dew?  That is what I’m referring to.  As I thought about that serene feeling I get when walking through grass like that, I began to think about the other things I miss.  While you might think a nice cold pint of beer or something like that would top the list (and let’s face it, a cold pint of IPA or a Sweetwater 420 would be really good right about now), it’s the common things that are really missed.  So to give you a taste of being deployed, this is some of the stuff I miss.

1.  Silverware/plates:  white plastic forks, spoons, and knives are what we get rather than silverware.  They come in a plastic bag and often break as you try to open them.  It’s as if Delta Airlines runs our food services and TSA is on their case.  As you attempt to cut meat, the knife bends and the fork breaks.  You’re forced to either pick up the meat and eat it like beef jerky or use a pocketknife.  Our trays are of the cardboard, rectangular variety with three small compartments at the top, a medium one at the bottom left, and a large one to the right of that one – sort of like a TV dinner try you get from the grocery store.  Anything particularly juicy will often bleed through the bottom creating a mess.  However, the strangest thing about these trays is how the cafeteria workers treat them.  They seem to have a penchant for filling up the smaller compartments first regardless of what you order.  Thus, you often find your main course in a small compartment.  I’ve even been handed a tray with every compartment except the large one filled with something.  Are they screwing with us, I wonder?

2.  regular doors:  our doors look normal, but they are on some sort of spring device.  This causes them to shut rather loudly.  Now, I realize the necessity of this given the swirling, dust-laden wind we have here, but I cringe every time a door slams.  Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I can hear my mom yelling at me to quit slamming the door.  Open the door, gently shut the door.  Open the door, gently shut the door.  Yeah, she once had me do that for what seemed like an eternity – but I don’t slam doors anymore!  I wonder what sort of things like this my kids will remember about me?

3.  fresh sandwich bread:  no, check that.  I want fresh Wonder Bread.  Yeah, that soft, white slice of heaven that melts in your mouth as you eat your sandwich.  Surrounded by an ever-slightly browned edge, the flour used by Wonder Bread has produced small cocoons of delight for your taste buds.  Yep, it’s as if they’ve captured a cloud in every single bite.  The bread here, however, must have been what the commissariat handed out in Red Square when the communists were running Russia.  Ours isn’t stale mind you, but it isn’t what I’m used to eating, as it’s a bit harder. 

4.  unimpeded  transit:  our compound was built for roughly 2/3 of the people we actually have, I’m told.  It seems like someone tried to cram Grand Central Station into a local bus stop.  People are everywhere.  It is especially crowded in the dining facility (I’m told I can’t call it a chow hall as that “dates me”).  Trying to navigate the chow hall, I mean dining facility, is like maneuvering through the mall at Christmas time (Speaking of malls, wouldn’t they be better if they had a Dad area like they have kid areas?  You know, something on tap and a few TVs with sports on – honey, the question isn’t how long can you shop, it’s how drunk do you want me?).  People bump into one another and I’ve even seen some heated discussions at the toaster over whose bread is whose (why you’d fight over that cardboard is beyond me).

    In the same vein, is the ability to run more than ¼ mile without having to run around someone or make a turn.  My loop is just under one kilometer (.57 mile).  I make 16 turns each loop and typically run 6-8 loops.  Needless to say, I can’t really get up speed, or what passes for speed as I approach my mid-40s.  I think when I get home I’m going to pull a Forest Gump and just run in a straight line until I get bored with it.  However, I’m going home at Christmas and I probably won’t be able to escape going to the mall, so that Dad’s area idea is starting to make a whole lot more sense.

5.   regular TV commercials:  the Armed Forces Network is great for bringing us up-to-date shows and sporting events from the US.  Their commercials, however, leave a lot to be desired.  Rather than hawk products, these commercials engage in a propaganda that would make Joseph Goebbels proud.  They infuse the viewer with a desired method of thinking, eating, and overall lifestyle.  Feel-good stories from the field can make one actually feel as if the effort here is worthwhile.  I understand the impetus behind the message; they should just be a little less transparent about it.  Plus, they don’t even show the stateside Super Bowl commercials and I think I have a right to watch those commercials, don’t I?  It’s in the Constitution isn’t it?

While there are certainly other things that one might desire in being deployed, you have to realize that no matter what you think of your circumstances, someone else has it worse than you do.  The living conditions here are among the best in Afghanistan.  In fact, this is the best I’ve had it in any of my four deployments.  I’ve slept in wet sleeping bags and cots, had nothing but MREs for weeks, and actually had health issues due to an inability to bathe properly on previous deployments  (haha, I think I can actually hear my wife saying “I can’t believe you wrote that!”).  So don’t take this little piece as a complaint.  I’m simply trying to convey some of the simple things one misses when deployed.  Everyone’s story is different; this is mine at this point in time.

Pyrrhic victory

Achieving rule of law is not the same as achieving justice.  As demonstrated by the story in a previous post, signs of rule of law are evident Kunar province.  Of course, the facts of that particular case are quite favorable to an acceptable resolution.  Sure, the defendant killed a man (likely without any immediate provocation), but the victim in that case had previously killed the father and three uncles of the accused.  His six year sentence, while certainly not excessive in comparison to the crime, was even deemed too harsh by some.  Despite this, justice was viewed as achieved in that case by locals as well as many that read the story in my post.  The acceptance of the verdict and trial procedure by the local population demonstrated the existence, even if somewhat fragile, of both rule of law and justice within Kunar province.  But, rule of law and justice are not always fellow travelers; sometimes one can be had without the other.

It seems that Maria, a young girl (approximately 16 or 17) from Asadabad, the capital city of Kunar province, was smitten with a local boy, Sulaiman.  Although she was apparently already betrothed to another through an arranged marriage, she took to meeting with her boyfriend whenever possible.  Stolen glances at school, a slight touch of the hand as they passed through the local market, and occasionally, a meeting late at night was all they really had.  One evening, they were able to arrange a meeting within her family’s compound.  Given Afghanistan’s history of warfare, the enclosure of a home by high walls, thus constructing a defensible compound, is endemic to the culture.  Only, in this case, the walls served not to protect from conquering marauders, but to shield the young couple from prying eyes.

As chance would have it, on this very evening the Maria’s cousin was visiting the compound.  As a member of the family, he most certainly knew of her engagement.  On seeing Maria alone, in bed, with a young man not her fiancé, he became enraged.  This was an insult to the girl’s chastity, her honor, and, most importantly, the family’s honor.  He retrieved a gun and shot both of them dead in the compound; a twisted, horrific, Afghan version of forbidden love in the vein of Romeo and Juliet.

At trial, the defense invoked Article 398 of the Afghan Penal Code as partial justification: “A person, defending his honor, who sees his spouse, or another of his close relations, in the act of committing adultery or being in the same bed with another and immediately kills or injures one or both of them shall be exempted from punishment for laceration and murder but shall be imprisoned for a period not exceeding two years, as a “Tazeeri” punishment.”  This is sometime referred to as the “provocation provision” and it seems that the cousin/defendant was actually raised by Maria’s mother for some time and this qualified him as a “close relation” under the Code section. 

Maria’s father acknowledged that Article 398 applied because he had told his wife to raise the defendant as a young child.  As to the actual crime, he stated: “Unfortunately, Sulaiman, son of Zaheer, didn’t care about Islam and the law of Afghanistan. He entered a house because of his sexual feelings so he disobeyed Pashtun culture, honesty, and respect, and he entered my home and did something illegal with my daughter.”  Although seeking some form of punishment, even the prosecutor felt that the crime had some measure of justification: “As Jan Dad, son of Sayed Nabi [i.e. the defendant/cousin], saw the illegal action, so his Pashtun and Islamic emotion rose up and he lost control over his body and he killed both of them.”  Islamic and Afghan statutory law aside, Pashtun law/culture would not only permit such an act to restore honor, but indeed might, some would argue, oblige the killings.  In an attempt to “set a practical example for the future,” the prosecutor asked for a sentence of three months incarceration.  In the end, the court sentenced the defendant to five months for the double homicide.

Evidence of rule of law in this case is clear.  A trial was had, written law was followed, and the local population accepted the verdict.  But justice was not done here.  You’ll likely hear no objections from the international community.  Justice has been sacrificed on the altar of superficial notions of legalistic mechanisms.  A functioning court is all that is needed to argue success in rule of law transition; justice is a luxury “success” just cannot afford.

Cruisin' Kabul

Danger in Afghanistan, or at least the perception of it, is relative.  When I left for Kunar province awhile back, a few folks expressed concern for my safety because Kunar is kinetic (i.e. some people there are trying to kill Americans).  I didn’t feel in any danger, but a platoon from the Massachusetts Army National Guard certainly did as they were in a 16 hours firefight not far from where I was that night. 

People who rarely leave the Embassy compound, or stay within Kabul when they do, are more inclined to over-think danger.  They have nothing to compare it to, so it’s only natural.  As an example: I sat next to a lady who spoke derisively of those that never “go outside the wire” (as if they really had a choice in the matter).  Her venomous tone peaked my curiosity so I asked what she did.  Apparently, she is embedded in one of the ministries of the Afghan government.  “I work about two hundred yards from where an IED killed a couple of Americans,” she bragged.  “When did that happen,” I asked.  “Two years ago,” she answered.  I thought briefly of setting her straight with a story of my drive to Parwan, the Customs Depot I went to with no military backup, or even the stroll in downtown Asadabad (where the Army commander said we showed the Taliban “who fuckin’ owns these streets”), but decided to let her have her sense of danger.  After all, there are a great number of folks here that would rightly scoff at the suggestion that I’ve done anything dangerous.

That said, there is always a possibility of something happening so precautions are taken.  This is particularly the case in Kabul where those making the rules have most likely never really been in a dangerous place.  For example, when driving out in town, one must have an armed partner.  I was asked to accompany a driver just the other day.  Body armor and a weapon are mandatory, even though we use up-armored Toyota Landcruisers.   I usually accept any opportunity to leave the embassy (because this place sucks), so I agreed.  It was to be a short drive to a place just near the airport.  I’ve made this drive many times and it’s usually uneventful.  This was the case on the way to our destination, but the return trip provided some humor in an otherwise dreary drive.

As we exit the building to retrieve our vehicles, I notice that they’ve been washed.  “Great,” I think, “just what we need a clean vehicle to set us apart from the locals – as if the giant, white Landcruiser isn’t sufficient to do that.”  Unhooking my M-4 from the sling attached to my armor, I insert a magazine and chamber a round.  I then align the rifle along the inside portion of the floorboard for easy access.  I put my helmet on the center console before climbing in.  This is necessary because getting in with the helmet on is a bit more cumbersome and often involves unique body contortions and a few expletives.  Stepping on the running board and grabbing the handle just inside the top of the passenger window, I go in headfirst.  Going in rear first, as most folks would, causes you to hit your head on the top of the doorframe because the armor doesn’t allow you to bend your neck all the way.  Once inside, major adjustment is needed to center yourself on the seat and get your armor situated so that you can actually have a bit of freedom of movement.  Only then do you put your helmet on.  It has occurred to me that if I ever have to get out of this thing quickly, I’m simply going to open the door and fall out onto the ground.

The guy with me turns on our jammer (interferes with electronically controlled IEDs) and gets in using the same method.  We then turn on our blue force tracker (GPS device that our operations center uses to track our movements) and we’re set to go.  Once we leave the compound, you do have to maintain a sense of vigilance.  IEDs aren’t really an issue in Kabul, but magnet bombs are a potential threat.  As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, it is common for people here to walk in and out of traffic.  Magnetically affixing a bomb to the side of an SUV while walking by would be quite easy.  Of course, there is also the fact that our route takes us right by the scene of a recent car-jacking (done AK-47 style, ‘cause that’s how they roll in Afghanistan) in which several folks were killed. 

Now if you’ve ever seen a movie about Iraq that shows American military tooling down the road yelling at folks to get out of the way, throwing water bottled at cars to help them along, and generally being a’holes (Hurt Locker comes to mind), this isn’t Iraq.  For one thing, crap like that pisses people off and makes them want to hurt you.  I generally like to avoid creating such feeling in people I meet.  Also, if the goal is to get the locals to support your efforts, crap like that seems a bit counter-productive, right? 

We adhere to traffic flow and obey traffic laws (to the extent they exist here) in every respect but one.  Police check points are ubiquitous here and, except for the international community, no one here uses armored SUVs except criminals.  This means that the police at these checkpoints want to stop us and conduct an inspection as a big bust could lead to a promotion or the collection of a bribe.  However, we have these fantastic things called diplomatic plates (or dip plates if you’re savvy to the lingo).  We flash that plate (assuming they don’t recognize the fact that we’re American military from the uniform, armor, and weapons) and we sail right through (note to self: get dip plates for commuting to work in the States).  Stopping isn’t an option.  Constant movement decreases the chances that you’ll become a target of opportunity.

That being said, stopping due to the mass of traffic is sometimes unavoidable.  Rolling down one of the main streets here, we approach Massoud circle and hang a right.  We instantly come to a full stop as traffic is backed up like the connector in Atlanta during Freaknik (basically a parking lot for the uninitiated).  As this was the area of the car-jacking, my partner and I began looking out for anything.  Up ahead, a policeman was lifting a metal arm to allow a truck to enter a compound.  The Afghan National Police in the Toyota Hilux guntruck in front of us were climbing out to investigate.  The guy in the corolla beside us was fiddling with his radio.  The fourteen or so people crammed into the minivan two lanes over were watching us intently, one of them unabashedly picking his nose.  Three kids just ahead were trying to get money by cleaning windshields and a number of people were sitting along the road on both sides. 

As we inched toward the three kids, one of them noticed us and came over.  He immediately jumped on the running board, hooked his arm over the side view mirror and began spreading dirt from his filthy rag on our just cleaned windshield.  He had a constant smile and asked for money in return for the obvious favor he just did for us.  While he was doing this, one of his friends moved to the side of our vehicle hear the driver-side rear door.  Now, no matter how cute and funny the kid was, we just don’t open our doors.  Even a crack can allow something to be thrown in – bad news given the difficulty in getting out quickly.  After making faces with him for a minute or so, we motioned for him to get off so we could catch up with the slow moving traffic.  He refused to get off, so we slowly moved forward with him latched onto our vehicle.  As he laughed, I thought about how kids are the same everywhere.  I know my son would jump at the chance to hang on the side of my truck if I would let him – most boys are little adrenaline junkies, I think.  After his brief ride, he took off in search of paying customers.

About this time, I noticed a guy in black pajama-looking clothes, with a small child hanging on his back moving toward us.  He has an intent look on his face, his eyes focused on us rather than the general mayhem around us.  Most folks generally ignore us, so this is different to me somehow.  I watch him closely as he approaches, instinctively putting my hand on my weapon, as the look on his face doesn’t seem right somehow.  He steps to the jersey barrier (small, triangular shaped concrete block), he swings the kids off his back and onto the barrier.  He then pulls the kid’s pants down to show us the kid’s penis.  Although I recognize what he’s doing, the rationale behind the act doesn’t register.  Since we did nothing, he slung the boy back over his back and took off.  After that, traffic cleared up and we headed back to the embassy.

I’ve often written of the surreal nature of things here because I just don’t think the danger is as prevalent for me as for some folks here.  Besides, how does one prepare for getting flashed in downtown Kabul?  

The Trial

The air was thick with humidity and stifling heat that hung with the oppression of a burka.  Although relatively large, the room was packed beyond capacity.  This was a big event for a relatively rural province and villagers had come for miles around to witness it.  Bodies crammed into every nook and cranny of the room; men sharing chairs, sitting on the ground, or standing along the wall for a simple glimpse of the actors on the judicial stage.  Today, a man stood trial for murder – accused of killing another man much hated and feared by most of those in the room.

At the front of the room was a wooden fence of sorts, used to keep the masses separate from the court actors.  To the left and right, chairs for the prosecutor and defense attorney, respectively.  Next to the defense attorney, an elevated platform, enclosed by a waist high wall, was reserved for the nervous-looking defendant.  Further from the masses, centered at the front of the room was the elevated bench for three judges – the Chief Judge’s bench slightly higher than the other two. 

Attached to the fence separating the bench from the gallery were photos of the crime scene.  More photos hung on a placard suspended from the ceiling just behind the defendant.  Included within this collage, were fairly graphic photos of the victim – not a copious amount of blood mind you, but a clearly dead body with a bandage around the neck.  The prosecutor sat confidently on the left side, periodically looking on the crowd as if to appreciate the fact that he would soon perform in front of this audience.  The defense attorney, his beard died in red henna, seemed preoccupied and simply stared into space, oblivious to the commotion as the audience sought to seat themselves.  The defendant, on the other hand, was acutely aware of everything.  His nervousness was evident from his erratic head and eye movement as he desperately attempted to soak in every movement and sound in an attempt to discern some clue that everything would be okay. 

As if on cue the commotion within the courtroom ceased and all eyes looked toward the opening door at the front-left of the room.  As the first judge crossed the threshold all stood in respect of the process of law, the act itself a victory for rule of law in this war-torn country.  Each was bearded and wore a traditional Lulngi hat (a turban-looking hat with part of the scarf hanging down below the shoulders).  The Chief Judge surveyed the room and nodded to each of the attorneys before motioning for the Court Reader to begin.

The court reader, a skinny man wearing traditional Perahan wa Tonban clothes (a white pajama-type outfit that seems to be quite appropriate for the hot weather here) stepped to the microphone and began a recitation from the Holy Quran.  The recitation had a pleasing, melodic cadence to it that seemed to calm the tense atmosphere in the courtroom.  As he finished, the judges brushed their hands over their faces as if to cleanse them.  The reader then began reading the charges and facts of the case.

The Defendant was accused of murder.  It seems that the victim and the defendant’s family had a history.  The victim had allegedly killed the defendant’s father and three uncles about 15-20 years ago and a recent land dispute gave the defendant cause to believe the victim might try to kill him as well.  One day, in downtown (a relative term) Asadabad, the victim and defendant met in the street.  The defendant, fearing for his life, fatally shot the victim in the neck.  The defendant immediately went to the police and surrendered.  As the facts were being recited, hushed murmurs could be heard from the crowd.  I got a sense that the crowd clearly favored the defendant.

Once the recitation of the facts was complete, the prosecutor stood and set forth his case.  He argued that the defendant had no cause to kill the victim as the defendant had no reason to fear for his life at that time.  There seemed to be a question of whether the victim had a weapon at the time.  Once the prosecutor finished, the Chief Judge looked at the defense attorney and asked whether he or “the killer” would speak.  This shocked me and I looked at our interpreter for confirmation that the judge just referred to the defendant as “the killer.”  He did. 

The defense attorney then stood and began to argue self defense.  As part of his defense, he argued that the victim’s prior history with the defendant’s family, combined with the land dispute (a much larger issue here than in the US), gave the defendant sufficient reason to fear for his life.  The defense attorney glossed over the question of whether the victim had a weapon at the time he was killed.  As he sat down, all eyes turned to the defendant.  He would speak.

His manner clearly demonstrated his nervousness.  He shifted his weight back and forth constantly, periodically gripping the railing in front of him as if to steady himself.  Still not yet looking at the judges, he reached down and grabbed a bottled water.  Slowly he unscrewed the cap, as if stalling for time in order to collect his thoughts.  He took a drink, looked to the crowd with sad eyes, perhaps silently asking for support, took a second drink and then looked at the judges.  Softly at first, then a bit louder and more confident he said, “The Holy Quran says he who has killed shall himself be killed.”  All three judges nodded in agreement.  The defendant then began to craft his argument by weaving the self-defense argument of his attorney with his own justifiable homicide argument.  He reached into the Quran to argue that he had to protect himself and his family’s honor by killing this very bad man.  This caused louder murmurs within the courtroom and it was clear that these people were indeed supporting the defendant.  The defendant then went through the entire history of the conflict between his family and the victim.  By the time he was done, I fully understood, within the context of this man’s culture, why he took the other man’s life.

As the defendant finished and took another drink of water, a commotion started in the back of the room – nothing violent, just a lot of movement.  I looked to the interpreter and he explained that it was time for these people to testify.  As approximately 30 people exited the room to stand in the hallway to await their turn to testify, I wondered why witnesses would be permitted to observe the trial prior to their testimony (this isn’t something our system allows as it could taint testimony).  However, I needn’t have worried.  In Afghanistan, witnesses are not subject to direct or cross examination.  They merely enter the room, stand in the well, and address the judges.  Occasionally, a judge will ask a question, but for the most part the witnesses simply make a brief statement and leave.

Most of the witnesses were there to testify that the victim had indeed killed the defendant’s father and uncles.  Some of this testimony was quite solemn as village elders testified from personal experience.  Other testimony was clearly not relevant in the slightest bit.  For example, one middle-aged gentleman walked in, looked at the court, and said that everything the elders before him had said was true (mind you that he hadn’t heard their testimony).  In another case, a very young man (clearly too young to have personally witnessed the victim killed the defendant’s father as he would have been about 5 or so) said he knew it to be true that the victim murdered the defendant’s father.  When asked by a judge how he knew this, he said that he had attended the wake and received a small gift from the family as is customary here.  This drew laughter from the gallery and a smile form the judge. 

I wondered about all this clearly irrelevant testimony and questioned whether it should be allowed.  Our Rule of Law field agent for the province explained that relevance wasn’t really the issue here.  In attempting to bring rule of law to Afghanistan, it was more important for folks to feel like the system is working.  The best way to do this is to give them a voice in the proceedings if they desire.  In this judicial system, judges are provided all evidence and written statements from both sides before the trial even begins.  Thus, the trial is a show; it is for the public.  By letting the public participate, they feel a part of it and are more likely to support it as a result.

After the last witness finished, the prosecutor and defense attorney made their closing arguments.  The defense attorney, predictably, asked for acquittal.  The prosecutor, surprisingly, asked for the death penalty (a clear overreach in my opinion).  The judges then excused themselves to deliberate.  The entire trial, to this point, lasted approximately 1.5 hours.  After eight minutes (yes, I timed it), the judges returned and announced a verdict of guilty and a sentence of six years.  Efficiency is clearly a hallmark of the justice system here.  The crowd in the courtroom was clearly unhappy with this result, but accepted the court’s decision.  This, itself, is a victory for rule of law here.  Acceptance demonstrates buy in; whether one is satisfied with a verdict and sentence is really irrelevant, the question is whether one is satisfied with the process.  The people living in the very province that houses the violent Pech and Korengal Valleys and brought us the movie Restrepo had bought into the process.  While not a perfect example of rule of law in the western sense, it is a workable example and one that can now begin to take root in Kunar.  Here, you have to enjoy the light, what little there is, whenever you can find it.