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Updated: 1 month 3 weeks ago

The Eid Ceasefire: Allowing Afghans to imagine their country at peace

Tue, 19/06/2018 - 03:48

Ceasefires by the government, the Taleban and the United States over the Muslim holiday of Eid ul-Fitr has partially ended with the Taleban ordering their fighters back to “normal operations.” However, the three-day truce resulted in an unprecedented peaceful movement of fighters and soldiers into territories controlled by the other. The media was full of pictures and videos of Afghans in uniform or wearing black turbans fraternising with each other and with civilians. The Taleban rejected President Ashraf Ghani’s call to join government forces in extending the ceasefire, and some Taleban attacks were reported on 18 June, the day after their ceasefire ended. Nevertheless, says AAN Co-Director Kate Clark, the genie may be out of the bottle. It may now be more difficult for those who have just celebrated Eid together to return to killing (with input from Thomas Ruttig, Ehsan Qaane, Rohullah Sorush, Ali Yawar Adli and Ali Mohammad Sabawoon).

The ceasefire to mark the end of Ramadan was a government idea. On 7 June 2018, President Ghani called a unilateral halt to all offensive government actions from the 27thday of Ramadan to the fifth day of Eid (12-19 June). (1) That appears to have bounced the Taleban leadership into announcing their own three-day Eid ceasefire two days later, although they did not refer to the government announcement. It would have reflected badly on the movement if it had insisted on continuing to fight and kill during the religious holiday when the enemy said it would not.

Matters did not look encouraging during the days of the government’s unilateral ceasefire before Eid, when Taleban killed dozens of members of the Afghan National Security Forces (ANSF) in attacks in Jalrez district of Maidan Wardak, Jurm in Badakhshan, Muqur of Ghazni, Kohistan in Faryab (capturing the district centre and killing the district governor, among others), Qala-ye Zal of Kunduz, Zawol in Herat – a sub-district of Shindand – and Sayad in Sar-e Pul (press reporting here, here and here [in German]). Even so when the end of Ramadan came and the Taleban truce kicked in, the cadres stopped fighting. They not only obeyed the order to cease fire, but went a lot further than the Taleban leadership could have imagined.

The ceasefire begins

Combatants and officials mainly, but not exclusively from the Taleban, took the opportunity to visit places and see people they had not seen for years (see the annex for a list of reported events). They filmed and photographed themselves, including taking selfies with the enemy and posted the pictures online. Anyone with a smart phone and internet connection has been able to see peace breaking out in many parts of the country: joint Eid prayers, members of the Taleban and Afghan National Security Forces embracing each other, euphoric crowds, a Taleb handing out roses to Afghan army soldiers, Interior Minister Wais Barmak coming back from Maidan Wardak stopping his car to greet some Taleban who had entered Kabul. Such ‘fraternisation events’ were reported in Helmand, Kandahar, Zabul, Uruzgan, Farah, Ghazni, Paktia, Paktika, Logar, Wardak, Kabul, Laghman, Nangarhar, Kunduz, Takhar, Baghlan, Faryab and Badghis. Quite a few meetings involving ‘seniors’ – government and shadow district and provincial governors, police and army chiefs and Taleban commanders – were also reported to have taken place during the three-day truce:

The Badghis governor Abdul Ghafur Malekzai met Taleban

Provincial governor of Badghis is taking selfie with Taliban fighters #Ceasefire #Afghanistan pic.twitter.com/yIfQlhU281

— HBABUR (@Humayoonbabur) June 16, 2018

The Farah governor Basir Salangi met Taleban

#Farah governor Basir Salangi welcomes the Taliban in his office in second day of the ceasefire and Eid. #AFG pic.twitter.com/voSQKTjrmm

— Shakib Mahmud (@ShakibMah) June 16, 2018

The Logar governor and Taleban shadow governor offered prayers together

#Afghan governor for #Logar province in joined by his rival #Taliban's shadow governor and together they offedr their #Eid prayers. Others who were also in attendance told #VOA, Taliban governor was unarmed when he entered the mosque. #Afghanistan #Ceasefire #peace pic.twitter.com/qflapUzPHb

— VOA DEEWA (@voadeewa) June 15, 2018

The Herat provincial police chief met local commanders
The Logar provincial police chief, Muhammad Abdali, met commanders
The provincial chiefs of police and NDS in Uruzgan marched towards Taleban positions to invite them to join Eid celebrations
A “big meeting” of officials with Taleban in Jalalabad took place at the governor’s office

#Taliban commanders in #Nangarhar governor house, in a big gathering with local officilas and the people to support #ceasefire pic.twitter.com/pZiywceMqu

— Pajhwok Afghan News (@pajhwok) June 17, 2018

“High-ranking Taleban” met officials in the Zabul governor’s office

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د ولس په اراده د ولس په څنګ کې، له درې ورځني اوربند څخه په استفادې.د زابل ولايتي شورا رئيس وينا د شاجوی په شوبار کې، کليوالو او طالب وسلوالو ته.

Posted by ‎سردار ولی سرحدی‎ on Sunday, June 17, 2018

The mingling was spontaneous and uncontrolled, the result, a sort of benign chaos. There was a lot of risk in this. Taleban fighters, for example, did not all leave their arms when they crossed the ‘frontlines’ into government-controlled areas, but ANSF allowed them through anyway. It seems the fighters did not abuse that trust (although fears have been voiced that the Taleban may have pre-positioned armed fighters for after the Eid – more on which below).

Reports from both media and social media were overwhelmingly positive, although there may be some reporting bias here, that fraternisation was reported, but its absence in other places was not. Uneasiness from some in the general population was also reported, although less prominently than the euphoria (see press reporting here and here). Amrullah Saleh, claiming to represent a large swathe of the population, also tweeted his bewilderment at events: “The anti Taliban constituency which provide the bulk of troops to ANDSF [Afghan National Defence and Security Forces] feel betrayed, confused & sold out.”

Women were noticeable by their absence. Where they were publicly involved, it was noted: young activist Muqadasa Ahmadzai going to a Taleban-controlled area of Nangrahar to demand they extend the ceasefire, women in Helmand demonstrating and also demanding the Taleban extend the ceasefire and the BBC’s Malaeka in Kabul going to “challenge” Taleban entering the city on their policy of excluding women from public life.

The ceasefire was broken by only two attacks, both in Jalalabad, and the first, at least, claimed by the Islamic State in Khorasan Province (ISKP). On the second day of Eid, 16 June, a suicide bomber blew himself up in the middle of a crowd of Taleban, ANSF and civilians in Rodat district in Nangrahar province. The bomber killed 36 people and wounded many more. On the third day of Eid, a bomb planted near the governor’s office in Jalalabad where people waited for the end of a meeting of government officials and Taleban, killed at least 18 and injured 45, according to the local health department.

The Rodat bombing on the second day of Eid was the official reason given by the Taleban leadership for ordering their fighters to “remain in their trenches [sic] and areas of control and to not venture into enemy controlled areas or cities even briefly.” A statement said they wanted to remove the opportunity for “the enemy” (unspecified) to misuse the ceasefire to harm the Taleban and other Afghans and so were ordering their fighters to stop “participating in… crowds and gatherings.” Ordering Taleban to return to their side of frontlines, however, actually looked like an attempt to stop fighters fraternising with the enemy (more on this below).

The leadership warned it would deal “rigorously” with “cases of violation.” 1TV reported the leadership was angry with Taleban who had taken selfies with ANSF. Given that Taleban were killed in the second bombing in Jalalabad and mingling continued to be reported on day 3 of Eid, some fighters did violate the leadership’s order.

Ghani calls for an extension of the truce, the Taleban go back to fighting

On 16 June, President Ghani announced a unilateral extension of the ceasefire until 20 June and called on the Taleban to do the same. In a series of tweets (2) and a televised address, he said it could be a time when wounded Taleban could seek treatment and family members visit Taleban prisoners. He also, again, offered “comprehensive negotiations” saying that Kabul was ready to discuss an issue of central importance to the Taleban – the presence of foreign forces. This suggestion first came in the final declaration of the February 2018 Kabul Process 2 meeting (AAN analysis here). Ghani also said “issues of mutual concern with neighboring countries” would also be up for discussion – possibly intended to allay the worries of the Taleban’s backers in Islamabad.

The Taleban refused his offer, saying “normal operations” would resume on 18 June. Insisting that their ceasefire had not been a “response to the ceasefire of the Kabul regime,” they said it had proved the cohesiveness of their command, while the welcome given to their fighters “by the people proves that the demands of the Islamic Emirate and the nation are identical – all want the withdrawal of foreign invaders and establishment of an Islamic government.” It called on the US to sit and negotiate with the Taleban and to withdraw its forces, a demand repeated from Taleban leader Hebatullah’s Eid message on 12 June.

The fact that the Taleban only issued a statement saying operations would resume very late on the last day of Eid suggests the decision had not been straightforward. Indeed, The Guardian reported that discussions had been difficult:

According to insiders, the leadership was stunned by the jubilant scenes in city centres. The hardline deputy leader and son of Mullah Omar, Mullah Yaqoob, was particularly dismayed. In an audio message obtained by the Guardian, he said there had been “no permission for mixing with Afghan forces”, which he said “totally disobeyed the terms of the ceasefire”.

One senior Taliban member said the leadership, recognising the pressure for peace within the group’s ranks, was considering a 10-day ceasefire over the next Eid festival, in September. However, he said there was disappointment that Ghani had not been more specific on the subject of US troop withdrawal. “Ghani should have created a timeline,” he said. “That might have created attraction to extend the ceasefire.”

On 18 June, the Taleban did, bloodily, resume, their operations, with the shooting of Subhanullah Khetab, acting governor of Ghanikhel district in Nangrahar, as he drove to his office. According to government officials, there were Taleban attacks in nine provinces, including Nangarhar, Kunar and Laghman in the east and in Helmand and Kandahar in the south, with 12 soldiers killed (media report here).

The end of the ceasefire also coincided with the arrival of the Helmandi peace marchers into the Afghan capital, boosted along the way by supporters. This spontaneous, grassroots, non-aligned initiative is demanding that both sides stop fighting, enter talks, draw up a timeline for the withdrawal of foreign troops and devise a system “acceptable to all sides” (see AAN reporting here). The sight of the men walking 700 kilometres in 40 degrees of heat while abstaining from water during the Ramadan fast, but supported by villagers all along the way, was intended to demonstrate, the marchers said, ordinary Afghans’ “thirst for peace.” It has also helped galvanise popular, pro-peace sentiments in the county.

What does the ceasefire mean?

Calling a unilateral ceasefire was a gamble by Ashraf Ghani that, so far, appears to have paid off. It forced the Taleban first into calling their own ceasefire and then into embracing a stance that publically favours war over talks – after peace was shown to have popular and widespread appeal, including among some of their own fighters.

For the Taleban, who feel they are doing well in the war, taking territory and threatening the government in a number of provinces (see AAN reporting here, here, here and here), the attraction of fighting on is strong. Despite the extreme unlikelihood of anyone winning the war militarily, the leadership may believe they can improve the movement’s relative position. Nevertheless, their insistence on continuing to fight has now cast them strongly as the ‘pro-war party’ and this may be politically damaging for them.

What happened over Eid was deeply subversive, politically and militarily dangerous to any party wanting to prolong the conflict. It demonstrated that a ceasefire, held to completely by both sides, is possible. It revealed a strong peace camp among Afghans that crosses frontlines, and it opened up the imaginative space for Afghans to see what a future without violence could look like. Perhaps most significantly, it allowed human contact between enemies. After the mass fraternisation, it may be more difficult for Afghan combatants to think of killing each other. After praying with your fellow Afghan, it may be trickier to cling on to the view that he is just a puppet of the kufar or of the ISI.

This works both ways of course, but it seems particularly dangerous for the Taleban, given that they have ended the truce unilaterally. Moreover, this is a movement that relies on discipline, obedience and a belief in the rightness of the armed struggle, that members are fighting a jihad. After the three-day holiday truce, some Taleban may be left wondering why it has become religiously justified to start killing again. Those who came into the cities will have found them not to be the cesspits of decadence and Westernisation they had been told they were, but to be populated by people celebrating Eid as they do (see here).

There has already been some disobedience in the ranks, with not all Taleban following orders and going back to the ‘trenches’ on the third day of Eid. Anecdotally, not all were pleased at being ordered to fight again after the end of the holiday – see statements in the annex. The Guardian quoted one fighter, 22-year old Muhammadullah, saying:

“I and thousands of Afghan Taliban definitely want the ceasefire extended,” …“I went to the city and the mosques were full of people, I did not notice anything against the Islamic rules. After the sweet three days of peace, going back to bloodshed looks strange. How can you even compare peace with war?”

One gathering of Taleban was also reported on 18 June in Paktika’s Urgun district, an area under Haqqani network control where fighters called on their leadership to extend the ceasefire. It is difficult to think of a precedent for this sort of behaviour.

A day after end of Taliban's 3-day ceasefire, some members of the group gather in #Paktika's Urgun district appealing for extension of ceasefire pic.twitter.com/RbKYY31Tsv

— 1TVNewsAF (@1TVNewsAF) June 18, 2018

For any Taleban who have privately pondered the rightness of this war, but (correctly) judged it too dangerous to voice their concerns, it may now be easier to do so. There have been discussions about entering negotiations at the leadership level before, but in recent years, it has been a taboo subject in the ranks. The unsayable may just have become sayable – that negotiations and peace could be both possible and desirable. The mass fraternisation seen over Eid may prove more dangerous to the Taleban’s cause than the deployment of any number of American or Afghan soldiers.

The truce has been very much an Afghan affair, despite the US also honouring it. Where Taleban were quoted in news reports, they often insisted their fight would go on until foreign forces left. Their anti-foreign rhetoric was often reported as going down well with local civilians – and presumably some members of the ANSF (see the annex for details); this might be a sentiment that Afghans could coalesce around.

The old dilemma of who talks to whom, that the Taleban insist they will only speak to the US, while both Kabul and Washington saying the Taleban must negotiate with the Afghan government, remains. Yet it could be cut through with sensitive US diplomacy. This appears to be the conclusion, for example, of the former US special representative for Afghanistan and Pakistan at the State Department, Laurel Miller (see here).

Shifts in positions do seem to be occurring. Ghani has said (again) that his government is willing to discuss the presence of foreign forces. There were also hints in US Secretary of State, Mike Pompeo’s statement of the possibility both of US-Taleban and Afghan-Afghan dialogue. He cited Ghani as saying that “peace talks by necessity would include a discussion of the role of international actors and forces” and that the US was “prepared to support, facilitate, and participate in these discussions.” He also said:

We have seen pictures of Islamic Republic of Afghanistan soldiers and police with Taliban fighters offering prayers for Eid side by side. If Afghans can pray together, their leaders can talk together and resolve their differences.

Agreeing to begin peace talks is an expression of determination to create a unified Afghanistan in which all its citizens can live in peace and dignity. The United States stands ready to work with the Afghan government, the Taliban, and all the people of Afghanistan to reach a peace agreement and political settlement that brings a permanent end to this war.

What happens next is less predictable. Letting genies out of bottles opens up the possibility of many different unexpected consequences. Much depends on how convinced Taleban fighters remain of the rightness of their armed struggle and whether dissidents remain obedient to the leadership. There also remains a risk that Ghani’s move has allowed the Taleban leadership to pre-position armed fighters in the cities. If matters do go badly, opponents of Ghani’s unilateral peace policy will be strengthened in their belief that it is futile to talk to the Taleban.

If Afghanistan is lucky, the three day ceasefire will have changed the dynamics of the conflict. The various meetings between Taleban and government officials may yet yield local reductions in violence. Those within the Taleban ranks who favour trying to negotiate an end to the conflict may be strengthened. The popular support and pressure for peace so publicly demonstrated in the last few days may also have given a momentum for talks – between Taleban, government and Washington, in various combinations – to actually begin.

Edited by Thomas Ruttig

Annex: Reports of Fraternisation

The news agency reports compiled here should be reliable, but tweets may not be. We include them as we want to give readers a taste of what was reported round the country. In the tweets, we have kept the original (mis-spellings and only corrected names where necessary).

Kunduz

16 June: An unknown number of Taleban entered Kunduz city and were warmly welcomed by people gathered on the streets. Tolonews reported Taleban saying they wanted the foreign troops to leave the country and they would only end their war with Afghan government forces once this has happened. Civilians told Tolo they were happy with the joint celebration of Eid.

Tolo also mentions ANSF here. AP quoted a local resident speaking of nearly 2,000 Taliban seen celebrating in the city, many of them with family and friends.

16 June: Hamid Saifi, a soldier scholar & commander of an #ANA battalion in [Dasht-e] Archi district in #Kunduz, meets the #Taliban commander who he has fought with & lost several men under his command in fierce battles in the last two years. #CeaseFire

17 June: Another CBM [Confidence Building Measure], two cricket teams in Dasht-[e] Archi district of #Kunduz provinceplayed a friendly match. Wonderfully, and surprisingly, one team came from the government and the other from the Taliban controlled areas. Strange people! Cricket diplomacy @ACBofficials @rashidkhan_19

Another CBM, two cricket teams in Dasht-I-Archi district of #Kunduz province played a friendly match. Wonderfully, and surprisingly, one team came from the government and the other from the Taliban controlled areas.
Strange people! Cricket diplomacy @ACBofficials @rashidkhan_19 pic.twitter.com/lzAxu8I11O

— Zeerak (@zeerakyousofi) June 17, 2018

Takhar

Abdul Rahman Aqtash, chief of police of Takhar province and some other local authorities welcomed Taleban in Chawk-e Taloqan city of Takhar. Security forces, Taleban and local authorities chanted the slogan “Let us take part in reconstruction of our country.” and Taloqan residents appreciated that. Both sides invited each other for peace and reconciliation and said it is the ceasefire that paves the way for peace.

تازه:گروه طالبان را در چوک شهر تالقان مرکز ولایت تخار؛ عبدالرحمن آقتاش فرمانده پولیس و شماری از مقام‌های محلی پذیرایی…

Posted by ‎Habib Najafizada – حبیب نجفی زاده‎ on Sunday, June 17, 2018

Baghlan

15 June: Taleban went to Pul-e Khumri citywith their white flag and said “Happy Eid “ to the people and security forces.

16 June: Taleban stood under pictures of Ahmad Shah Massud and Dr Abdullah in the main square of Pul-e Khumri

16 June: Asadullah Shabaz, head of the provincial council, told AP unarmed Taliban joined in prayers at a local mosque.“We are all just so tired of war,” he said.

Badghis

16 June: Governor Abdul Ghafur Malekzai walked to the roundabout of Qala-ye Nawand celebrated Eid and ceasefire with Taleban. Malekzai asked them to enjoy the ceasefire and join the peace process. They prayed together in Qala-ye Naw mosque and kept their fingers crossed for permanent peace.

Provincial governor of Badghis is taking selfie with Taliban fighters #Ceasefire #Afghanistan pic.twitter.com/yIfQlhU281

— HBABUR (@Humayoonbabur) June 16, 2018

Herat

16 June: Police Chief of Herat Meet Taliban Local Commanders

Eid Mubarak from AAN to All Our Readers

Fri, 15/06/2018 - 03:50

The AAN team would like to wish a joyful and peaceful Eid al Fitr to friends and readers, to all Muslims around the world and particularly to the people of Afghanistan. This year, as the Eid ceasefire in Afghanistan begins, there will be more space for festivities around the country.

Stocked dry fruit shop in Kabul before Eid. Photo: Obaid Ali – 2018

As AAN has reported before, Afghans celebrate the end of the month-long fast and the arrival of Eid al Fitr in many ways. As well as the customary Eid prayers, special food is cooked, friends and family visited, and, for those who can afford it, new clothes are worn. People remember those who have passed away that year. There might be local wrestling competitions, agey jangawal (egg-fighting) or ghursai (one-legged fighting).

Happy Eid to all!

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

How to Fight the Booming Opiate Economy? Harsher and progressive laws, but to no avail

Thu, 14/06/2018 - 17:52

The opiate economy, as measured by the farm-gate value of opium, together with revenues from heroin production and trafficking of opiates to the Afghan borders, has become a crucial component of the Afghan economy, a recently released UNODC socio-economic survey found. This has evolved after years of increasing opium cultivation in the country. But, what are the legal means to fight this illicit economy scourge? AAN’s Jelena Bjelica (with input from Ehsan Qaane and Rohullah Sorush) looks atthe counter-narcotics legal provisions and examines whether some of the legal mechanisms might restore benefits for the state from these trends in the illicit economy.

The Afghan opiate economy was worth between 4.1 to 6.6 billion USD in 2017. This represented 20 to 32 per cent of GDP, the UNODC said in its latest socio-economic survey released in mid-May 2018 (see here). This value exceeded by far the value of the country’s licit exports of goods and services in 2016 (6.9 per cent of GDP). It’s worth roughly equalled the value of the entire licit agricultural sector of the country, which constituted 23 per cent of GDP in 2016/2017, the UNODC found. In its press release the UNODC also said that “opium poppy has become a crucial component of the Afghan economy that secures the livelihoods of many Afghans who engage in cultivation, work on poppy fields or partake in the illicit drug trade.”

In 2017, Afghanistan produced more opium paste than ever before, some 9,000 metric tons according to the UNODC estimate. This compared to 4,800 metric tons in 2016 (see this AAN analysis). In the same year, the Counter-Narcotics Justice Center (CNJC), set up by the Afghan Government in May 2005 with a mandate derived from the Counter Narcotics Law to investigate and prosecute all serious intoxicating drinks and drug-related offences from across the country, in its annual report for 2017 said that the primary court of CNJC convicted 671 suspects. Most cases that ended up in the court were for small amounts of drugs that are punishable by a penalty. This, taken together with a symbolic number of seizures by the Afghan law enforcement agencies (more on this below), means that the country which has almost no legal consequences allows, if not nurtures, the production of over 90 per cent of the world’s illicit needs in opiates, ie opium, and it derivatives – morphine and heroin.

The story of the two laws

Since 2001, three counter-narcotics laws have been adopted in Afghanistan. The first was adopted in 2005. This had been drafted with the support of the UK, the then lead donor country on counter-narcotics. This also established the legal foundations for the CNJC. The second was adopted in 2010 and aimed to address rising cultivation levels that had occurred around 2007. It was then that Afghanistan produced 7,400 metric tons of opium; a record high production level until 2017. The most recent revision of the law began in 2015 to address a gap in criminal provisions related to synthetic drugs; the production and consumption of which had become more widespread in the country (see this AAN analysis). Each law resulted in harsher punishments for crime-related law-breaking. While the 2005 law mainly prescribed fines for drug trafficking, the 2010 law introduced prison sentences for the same crimes. Finally, the new 2018 law introduced even harsher prison sentences than 2010 law. However, it seems that the new counter-narcotics law (available here in Dari/Pashto) that replaced the 2010 anti-drug law has been ill-fated from its inception. The Afghan media Radio Azadi and Pajhwok reported that the law was sent to the to the lower house of the Afghan parliament (Wolesi Jirga) in 2016 for discussion and subsequent approval (see here and here). This law has been discussed twice in the Wolesi Jirga. The first time was on 18 January 2017, when Muhammad Saleh Saljuqi, the member of the Health and Counter-narcotics Commission, said that the law was not ready to be presented to the house, because at the joint session of the representatives of standing commissions, the conflicting points about the law had not been resolved. The relevant commissions working on the law were justice and judiciary, legislative, health and counter narcotics. He asked the Speaker of the Wolesi Jirga for another chance to discuss the law. The second chance was given on 12 April 2017 but, due to still unresolved differences, the law was again referred to the commissions.

The differences mainly revolved around formalizing the cultivation of opium for medical purposes that had been stipulated in the draft law. Chaman Shah Etemadi, an MP from Ghazni province and the member of parliamentary commission on narcotic drugs told AAN: “The counter narcotic commission recommended to formalize the cultivation, but unfortunately as this was partially against the constitution, it did not secure enough votes, so it was deleted from the law.” The 2004 Constitution in the article 7 clearly says: “The state shall prevent all kinds of terrorist activities, cultivation and smuggling of narcotics, and production and use of intoxicants.” Although, some MPs were strongly for legalization of the cultivation, such as Nasima Niazi, an MP from Helmand and Saleh Muhammad Saljooqi, an MP from Herat, others, such as MP Abdul Sattar Khawasi from Parwan, remained firm in their position that such a provision would violate the Constitution. Finally, Abdul Rauf Ibrahimi, the speaker of the lower house, ruled that the article of the law is against the constitution and that it should be deleted. In the session held on 1 May 2017 when 122 MPs were present, the majority voted for the deletion of article in question and approved the remaining law in that same session of the Wolesi Jirga before sending this onto the president’s office.

On 17 June, the Wolesi Jirga speaker, Abdul Rauf Ibrahimi, complained to Tolo news that of 13 draft laws passed by the Wolesi Jirga and the Meshrano Jirga (Upper House of Parliament) and sent to the president, none had been processed; including the anti-drug law.

The law would stay on president’s desk for another six months until early 2018. It was issued on 24 February 2018, only ten days after the new Penal Code entered into force, ie nine months after it has been published in the Official Gazette on 15 May 2017. By then, the new counter-narcotics law had been stuck in the Parliament for a year (more or less the same period as the Penal Code) and had been on President’s desk for at least six months. It contained criminal provisions that had not been aligned with the Penal Code. A regular quarterly report by the US Special inspector general for Afghanistan reconstruction (SIGAR) published on 30 April 2018 (see here) noted that the new counter-narcotics law criminal provisions “would have superseded the new penal code and nullified the new penal code provisions.” This major oversight in the new law, led to the post-facto (ie after the law has been signed by the President and published in the Official Gazette) series of high-level meetings, which resulted in a decree repealing the criminal provisions part of the new law. (1) According to the SIGAR report:

The Council of Ministers held an extraordinary meeting where they approved the repeal of the criminal provisions of the new CNL [counter-narcotics law]. On March 6, the Ministry of Justice published on its website the decree repealing the criminal provisions of the new CNL. The decree is coupled with an amendment to the penal code (Article 916), which will now include the language repealing the criminal CNL [counter-narcotics law] provisions, thus maintaining the PC [penal code] as the criminal law of the land.

The entire chapter five of the new Penal Code is dedicated to trafficking of narcotics and where the punishments are pretty much aligned with the 2010 Law. This is with the exception of the trafficking of synthetic drugs and acetic anhydride, which have been added as new crimes (see footnote 1). It also carries higher sentences for narcotic drug-related crimes than the 1976 penal code. Also, it authorises confiscating assets (including land, structures, and vehicles) used in, or earned through, illicit drug production, and trafficking.

What has not been repealed from the new law?

Stripped of its criminal provisions, the law still has something to offer. The mechanism for policy-making and its implementation is much stronger. Its authority and duties are much clearer than in the old law and will stay in place. In the new law, the mechanism, as one body, has three parts, including the High Commission for making policies (articles 5 and 6), the provincial and district commissions for implementing the policies (article 7), and the oversight committee for the implementation of the policies (article 8). The Ministry of Counter Narcotics acts as the secretariat of the High Commission (article 5).

The High Commission consists of one member of the Supreme Court, nineteen minsters and four heads of general directorates, ie almost 80 per cent of the cabinet members, and is chaired by the President or one of the vice-presidents (article 5). The commission is in charge of making all necessary and related policies and strategy. In the old law, the High Commission had only ten members at the deputy level and was chaired by the Minister of Counter Narcotics (article 6). It was in charge of implementing policies but without having the authority to make them. Nevertheless, the establishment of the High Commission for counter-narcotics also conforms to the latest trend in Afghanistan. This saw, under President’s Ghani lead, over 15 high commission and councils established since 2014, all being chaired by the president. The high commissions include those working on development issues, eg, the High Council on Rule of Law and Anti-Corruption; the High Council on Land and Water; the High Council on Urban Development; the High Council on Poverty Reduction, Service Delivery and Citizen Engagement; the High Council on Culture, Education and Human Capital and the Economic High Council. It also includes those working on security issues, such as the High Council on National Security, the High Council on Migration, and so.

Under the new law, the implementation of the strategy and policies is given to the provincial and district commissions (article 8). The duties and responsibilities of the commissions remain as they were under the old law. However, the combination of the commissions has expanded to 24 members, including the local governors.These commissions consist of the highest representatives of ministries (except the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which does not have local offices) and general directorates, which are the members of the High Commission, also at the provincial and districts level. The provincial commissions are chaired by the provincial governors and the districts commissions are chaired by the district governors. Principally, it was seen as being wise to involve all pertinent bodies in the implementation processes. However, practically, it would prove difficult to manage this.

The old law did not have a mechanism to oversee the activities of individuals or companies, and that could deal with licences, process, purchase, sell, storage, distribution, commissioning, import and export, traffic and supply of narcotics drugs. In the new law, a committee of seven experts from six ministries will oversee and control the activities of non-governmental companies and individuals and will grant a permit or license for the preparation, process, purchase, sell, storage, distribution, commissioning, import and export, traffic and supply. This, mainly, has to do with the article 19 of the new law, which states:

The confiscated drugs in agreement with International Narcotics Control Board will either be converted to medicine or sold to one of the countries that has licence. If INCB disagrees that the drugs be sold or used in making medicine, the prosecutor will take the case to a court and the court will issue an order to destroy it.

The 1961 Convention on Narcotic Drugs does allow for the release of seized materials for licit use. The head of UNODC office in Kabul, Mark Colhoun, told AAN that this fall under the licit control mechanisms for opiates, as well as other drugs, and INCB works with governments to estimate annual requirements of amounts required for medical use. “The provisions of the law would therefore appear to be in line with the requirements under the international conventions,” he said.

However, the article in the new Afghan Law does not specify which kind of drugs. AAN’s reading of the article 24/5 (b) of the 1961 Convention is that the release of seized material for licit use only applies to opium. The quoted article says that a country, which is a party to the Convention, is not prevented “from producing opium sufficient for its own requirements; or from exporting opium seized in the illicit traffic, to another Party in accordance with the requirements of this Convention.” Hence, a question arises as to whether the wording of article 19 of the new Afghan counter-narcotics law was, as usual, sloppy, or whether there was something more to it. AAN sent an email to INCB in mid-April 2018 with a request for a comment, but had not receive an answer by the time this dispatch was published.

Can this work in practice?

The new law’s remaining enforceable parts seem to intend to restore opiate-related economic trends to benefit the state. However, for the state to benefit from the illicit economy, seizures of drugs in Afghanistan would have to increase significantly. According to UNODC, Afghanistan in 2016 (see page 69 of the latest socio-economic survey), seized around 47 tons of opium out of the 4,800 metric tons produced in the same year (see this AAN analysis). This represents less than one per cent which, if added to the 4.6 tons of heroin seized in 2016 equals approximately 46 tons of opium (using a conversion rate for opium to heroin of 1:10). Together, this still makes for less than two per cent of overall’s country opium production in 2016. No morphine had been seized in 2016, according to UNODC. In fact, the new US Special inspector general for Afghanistan reconstruction (SIGAR) report on counter-narcotics, published on 14 June 2018 noted that “the amount of opium seized over the last ten years is equivalent to about five percent of the estimated opium production in 2017 alone.”

There are other considerations to be taken into account. David Mansfield, Senior Fellow at the London School of Economics International Drug Policy Unit and long-term adviser to AREU warned that past attempts by other countries to export products derived from seized opium were thwarted by the protests of those who produce licit opium and incur the costs of control and regulation. Past practice suggests it will not simply be a case of finding a buyer for illegally produced opiates and selling them on. The outcome will be governed by the INCB and diplomacy,” he said.

Another challenge has to do with a commercial nature of the problem, which is a bigger one. “There are few pharmaceutical companies that want raw opium these days,” he said, adding that is far better to have derivatives that have “higher value to weight ratio, are easier to transport and control, and contain less or no waste.” Yet, if the international demand is not for opium, then Afghanistan would have to invest in its own processing capacity, which would need to meet international pharmaceutical standards. Mansfield added:

“Turkey received international donor support for its processing in Bolvadin in Afyon in the 70s. It’s hard to believe in the current environment in Afghanistan there would be either international support from donors or the private sector – particularly given the challenges above that would indicate an uncertain international market for the final product.”

Conclusion

The story of the new counter-narcotic law shows the extent to which a lack of coordination creates stumbling blocks, as well as all the unnecessary work it generates for some parts of government. Yet, it raises the question: what was the purpose of harsher punishments for smaller traffickers and drug users, stipulated in the repealed criminal provision of the new counter-narcotics law?Presumably, such policies had been inserted to target local drugs consumption market, which according to UNODC’s latest socio-economic survey (see here) is estimated to be worth around 0.5 per cent of the country’s GDP. (2) This compared to a value of 20 to 32 per cent of GDPof an entire illicit agricultural sector, shows that the legislators and the drafters have been more concerned with a single tree, while the forest is on fire. It also shows that a visual proximity of the problem, a number of drug users hanging around Pol-e-Soktha bridge (see this AAN analysis), located in west Kabul, prompt harsher legal responses when it should have prompted a more human approach. Nevertheless, it is also interesting that the Parliament stumbled for six months in the discussion about legalization of cultivation as to whether this was against the Constitution. Meanwhile, at the same time, it passed the law that suspended the new Penal Code. All together, it seems as though, aside from the usual sloppiness in managing the legal matters, counter-narcotics remain very low on the agenda of the Afghan government, and that the problem continues to be addressed from an exclusively Kabul perspective.

(1) What has been repealed from the new law?

The repealed criminal provision of the counter-narcotics law included all crimes that have been listed in the old law (for an English version of the old law see here) and, in addition, two new provisions related to trafficking of acetic anhydride and synthetic drugs. The sentences, for example, for trafficking of acetic anhydride – a key substance used as precursor to process opium paste into morphine or heroin, and the trafficking of synthetic drugs, such as MDMA or methamphetamine (see this AAN analysis about booming synthetics drugs industry in Afghanistan) – could be from six months to 15 years in prison, depending on the amount of acetic anhydride or synthetic drugs. However, the gravity of the sentence for amounts of these two substances, of course, differed. For acetic anhydride, six months punishment is given for trafficking of less than 25 grams of this substance, while the same punishment is for less than one gram of synthetic drugs. The Penal Code, on the other hand, foresees fines in lieu of a short prison sentence for such small amounts.

The punishment of other criminal acts related to the narcotics and intoxicants had been increased extremely in the new law. Thus this was repealed by the Ministry of Justice decree. For the purpose of historical record and to list just a few: in some cases, sentences had been increased 12 times more and, in some cases, the balance between the act of crime and its punishment did not make any sense.For example, in the new law, the act of trafficking cannabis derivate [chars] will be punished by sentence in prison from two to three years if the amount is more than 100 grams and less than 500 grams. In the old law, the same act was punished by two to three months in prison. In the new Penal Code, the same act is punished by 6 months up to one year’s imprisonment.

(2) UNODC estimated from the 2009 drug use survey that, the number of opium and heroin users in the country was 230,000 (210,000-260,000) and 120,000 (110,000-140,000), respectively. These numbers account for poly-drug use, i.e. one person is counted in both groups if using both opium and heroin.

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

Peace (hopefully) for a few days: A ceasefire for Eid as Helmand marchers approach Kabul

Mon, 11/06/2018 - 03:38

Afghans may, just possibly, have a happier Eid than in previous years. The government, the Taleban and the United States military have all called temporary ceasefires. Meanwhile, seven marchers for peace, who set off from Helmand on 13 May have been walking towards Kabul in temperatures of more than 40 degrees while keeping the Ramadan fast. Their demand for a ceasefire during Ramadan was not met, but as AAN’s Ali Mohammad Sabawoon reports (with input from Kate Clark), their arrival in Kabul will coincide with the Eid ceasefire.

First came President Ashraf Ghani’s 7 June announcement that government forces would not launch any offensive attacks against the Taleban during the last days of Ramadan, from Lailat ul-Qadr, when Muslims believe the Quran was first revealed, to the fifth day of Eid. His announcement came in a series of tweets that referred back to a meeting of ulema in the capital on 4 June, who declared the Taleban’s fight “had no root in Shari’a law.” They called on the government and the Taleban and other insurgent groups to call a ceasefire and urged the Taleban to join the government in talks. (1)

Ghani’s announcement was soon followed by the commander of US and NATO forces, Commander John Nicholson, saying the forces under his command would “honour” the government’s ceasefire.

Then, on 9 June, the Taleban followed suit: “during Eid days,” they would “suspend their attacks against the insider enemy.” The Taleban also announced that all detainees who guaranteed not to fight against them would be freed to mark the holiday.

The Islamic State of Khorasan Province (ISKP), the Daesh offshoot in Afghanistan, has made no comment on the ceasefires or said what it would be doing.

The government and US military ceasefires will not apply to ISKP and the Taleban said its attacks against foreign forces would continue. Nevertheless, this ceasefire is unprecedented. Afghanistan has not seen such a ceasefire since the outbreak of the post-2001 insurgency.

The conflict does usually quieten down during Ramadan and particularly during both Eid holidays, but there have been some particularly nasty attacks during previous years when Afghans were marking Eid. In 2012, for example, a 15-year old boy blew himself up as worshippers gathered for Eid ul-Adha prayers in Maimana City, targeting the Faryab Provincial Governor. They boy killed 40 civilians, including six children, and injuring 59. The following year, the governor of Logar, Arsallah Jamal, was killed as he delivered a speech for Eid in the main mosque in Pul-e Alam; the bomb had been hidden in the microphone. So blood can and has been shed during Eid and even in mosques. This year, if all goes well, there will be a silencing of the guns and a breathing space for Afghanistan’s people.

Marching for peace

One of the seven Helmand peace marchers, Bacha Khan Mawladad another organizer of the march who is a youth activist, told AAN they were very happy when they heard that both the government and Taleban made their announcements. “A single bullet,” he said, “can take the life of a human being – that’s why we welcome the ceasefire.” He said it was the first of their demands to be met – despite it only being a temporary ceasefire – but as it had not come in response to their protest, they had decided to carry on marching.

The protesters started their demonstrations demanding peace after a suicide car bomb detonated outside near the door of a stadium in Lashkargah city in Helmand province on 26 March: more than a dozen civilians were killed (AAN’s earlier analysis). Those who had lost family members in the attack were among the demonstrators. “Our tears have not yet dried,” one told AAN. Obaidullah, from Nawzad district had lost two nephews and saw four other family members injured in the stadium attack. “We want the Taleban and the government to stop killing innocent people,” (see here.)

The demonstrators pitched tents in the provincial capital and held a hunger strike, which resulted in some participants being hospitalised. Demonstrators said they would march to the Taleban stronghold of Musa Qala district to meet insurgent commanders but cancelled their plans after the Taleban warned them not to visit. On 9 May, the protestors held a meeting with religious scholars, tribal elders and youth and presented a four demands asking the parties for a ceasefire in the coming month.

1. Respecting the holy month of Ramadan, all sides of war should declare a ceasefire.

2. Specific channels and addresses for peace talks should be identified among all sides of the war, and peace negotiations should be launched.

3. Considering Islamic and national values and interests, practical steps should be taken for forming a system that is acceptable to all sides.

4. Based upon the agreement of all sides in this war, a specific timeline should be set for the withdrawal of international forces from Afghanistan.

Both Taleban and government, we reported, appeared wrong-footed by the protests, unsure how to respond. No ceasefire occurred. Instead, the annual onset of the summer fighting season brought a sharp increase in violence across the country. One count of incidents by Pajhwok Afghan News estimated about 3,000 people were killed and injured in the month of May, a 42 per cent increase from the previous month. As usual, Helmand ranked among the most violent provinces. Adding to the intensity of this year’s battles there has been the recent US deployment of High Mobility Artillery Rocket System (HIMARS) truck-mounted multiple rocket launchers. The Taleban launched attacks on several district and provincial capitals, including Farah (see AAN reporting here and here and Ghazni, including on Andar (see AAN reporting here).

As violence intensified, the Helmand demonstrators decided to try a different approach. Youth activist and former journalist Eqbal Khaibar told AAN on 13 May: “When our declaration was not listened to by either warring party and they did not offer any response, we decided to start a long march from Helmand to Kabul.” They began marching on 13 May. (2)

Temperatures climb above 40 Celsius in the southern provinces in June, and Highway 1, that snakes northwards to the capital, offers almost no shade from an unremitting sun. Nevertheless, marchers have observed the Ramadan fast, abstaining from water from dawn till dusk. They say they are undertaking this punishing ordeal as a way to make plain the thirst of Afghan citizens for peace. They have also faced the insecurity that Highway 1 has become infamous for, not just the risk of insurgent attack, but also highway robbery.

The peace marchers march in Ghazni city. (2018: the peace marchers)

Warring sides reluctant to stop the fighting?

The government has been, at best, lukewarm in its response to the marchers. Deputy presidential spokesperson Durani Waziri told AAN that, generally speaking, the Afghan government supports any kind of step taken for the sake of peace but it “has yet to reflect on this particular group.” She said they would prepare a response by the time the group arrives in Kabul. Spokesman for the High Peace Council Ihsanullah Tahiri did praise the marchers to AAN, but mentioned the Taleban alone as needing to respond; he said the council hoped they would “welcome the voice of peace and declare their readiness for peace talks.”

Peace marcher Khaiber was scathing about the government’s stance: “[It] has no determination when it comes to peace,” he told AAN. He accused the government of merely making “peace propaganda” in the media, while actually making hurdles for the marchers. He believed that certain posts on social media hostile to the marchers – for example claims that they were funded by ‘the Americans’ – which undermined their security had come from people linked to the local office of the High Peace Council and (un-named) Helmand-based politicians. However, he had scant evidence for this stance and it was denied by the High Peace Council nationally. “We complained to Helmand security department to arrest these people,” Khaibar said. “The security department called them and told them to delete their posts. They did delete them, but have not been arrested.”

As for the Taleban, Khaibar pointed to what he said was a false statement on 20 May from the Taleban spokesman that American money had paid for the protester’s tents. Zabiullah Mujahid, a Taleban spokesman, again appeared to threaten the marchers in this written response to a question from AAN: (3)

If these activists do these actions from the deepest part of their hearts, they should go to the American bases [and demand] they end their invasion and pave the way for a real peace. If they only ask us for a ceasefire while the invaders remain in their positions, then the protestors are examples of [General] Nicolson’s remarks. He said last month that they would pressurize the Taleban on military, social, political and religious bases. Unfortunately, we see that planned pressure… As we have destroyed their conspiracies for 17 long years, we will disable their current weapons as well.

The accusation was clear: the marchers were merely tools of the Americans. There is also the implied warning that the Taleban will ‘disable’ them. The Taleban accusation of US backing, Khaibar said, had hurt their campaign in Taleban-controlled areas. Nevertheless, despite the accusations and the implied threats, they had kept on marching and, the marchers said, found support from ordinary Afghans, not only civilians but also Taleban.

The peace marchers meeting residents of Ghazni in a mosque in the province. (2018: the peace marchers)

Solidarity from ordinary Afghans—including some Taleban fighters

The marchers told AAN the response they had had from ‘the street’ had been very different from either of the warring parties. Religious leaders and tribal elders had praised them for their efforts, and people who live along the highway had opened their homes to them, giving them food and shelter. They had had some hostile reactions, they said. For example, in the Khirqa Mosque in Kandahar, a man had grabbed the microphone, interrupting the meeting to say peace would never happen. However, the response had in general been overwhelmingly positive. That included, on their way through Zabul, Khaibar said, a group of armed Taleban fighters coming to meet and welcome them.

They said they were local Taleban and tired of war.” We accepted the risk of death,” they said “knowing the government forces might attack us [if we came to meet you]. We just came to convey our message. We support you! You go ahead! We do not know who we are fighting with and for. Somebody commands us by walkie-talkie, and we do not know who he is. Sometimes, we are told to go ahead and fight and then we are told to retreat for no [apparent] reason.

The number of marchers has swelled a little along the way. They now include a congenitally blind young man who joined in Zabul. An old woman whose three sons had been killed in the conflict, reported Afghan media, had also wanted to join the marchers, but they encouraged her to pray at home instead of making the arduous journey. They are understood to have reached Qarabagh district of Ghazni province with 37 marchers and arrived in Ghazni city with nearly 60. “The women and men of Ghazni city welcomed us,” he said, telling AAN that they planned to stay there for two more days to talk to different people and will set off Kabul on 11 June. Ghazni-based journalist, Habib al-Rahman Tasir described to AAN how two teams of girls and boys from Nawabad school of Ghazni had come to welcome the marchers by singing anthems of peace. Tasir said majority of boys and girls who sung the peace anthem were Hazara The march organizers said that large numbers of youths from Ghazni and Wardak provinces had also registered their names to join the march, promising to join as it approached the capital.

A dangerous journey

Three of the marchers were hospitalized for two days with exhaustion in Zabul. Doctors urged them to rest, but they carried on. As well as the onslaught on the body they have endured, they have also been shot at and threatened. When they reached the Greshk crossroads in Kandahar and turned toward a village at night, for example, police started shooting at them. When they asked the villagers why, the villagers explained that the marchers had been carrying a lamp, something banned by the police in that village so as to differentiate civilians from insurgents (who do carry lights). On another occasion, the marchers were travelling at night from Daman district to Shahr-e Safa, still in Kandahar, when all of a sudden some people shouted at them and told them to stop and take everything out of their pockets. After hearing about the peace march, however, the villagers apologized for bothering them. The marchers had not informed security officials about their route, but said that after this incident, they had decided to keep the police in the picture about their movements.

Peace to survive and fighting for no outcome

The Helmand marchers have accepted great risks on their path to peace. As they approach Kabul, they have said they will not meet government officials in Kabul, but will keep their protest alive by meeting ulema, young people and tribal elders in the mosques. They insist they want a public presentation of their demands to both the sides in conflict. Mawladad told AAN that the parties to the dispute already know about the declaration. So while the ceasefire is welcome, there are still three other demands from the marchers: talks, forming a ‘system’ acceptable to all and a timetable for foreign troop withdrawal. He said that if their four demands were not met, they would extend the march to other provinces and continue around Highway 1, which rings the country, returning back eventually to Helmand. “We will never give up,” he said.

The marchers have not reached a critical mass where numbers could force action from one or both of the warring parties. Still, the fact that their arrival in the capital is coinciding with the first ceasefire of the post-2001 insurgency feels symbolic. What happens after Eid is another matter. Will Afghans wake up to renewed bloodshed or is there any possibility for this ceasefire – so sweet, but so short – to be extended?

Edited by Graeme Smith, Sari Kouvo and Kate Clark

(1) Ashraf Ghani announced the ceasefire in Dari and Pashto – available here and in a series of tweet:

The Government of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan announces ceasefire from the 27th of Ramadan until the fifth day of Eid-ul-Fitr following the historic ruling [Fatwa] of the Afghan Ulema.

The Fatwa declared that violence and suicide attacks are not only against Islam but also strictly forbidden in our religion. We also welcome the unprecedented fatwa that only the state can declare jihad thereby rendering violent campaign by any group anything but a holy war.

#Afghan national defense and security forces will only stop offensive manoeuvres against Afghan armed Taliban and will continue to target Daesh and other foreign backed terrorist organizations and their affiliates.

This ceasefire is an opportunity for Taliban to introspect that their violent campaign is not wining them hearts and minds but further alienating the #Afghan people from their cause.

With the ceasefire announcement we epitomize the strength of the Afghan government and the will of the people for a peaceful resolution to the Afghan conflict.

(2) The group initially consisted of the core organizers of the Helmand peace movement: Eqbal Khaibar, Bacha Khan Mawladad, Abdul Malik Hamdard, Sardar Muhammad Sarwari, Abdul Salam Bayan and Bahlol Patyal. Khaibar said when they reached Kandahar eight other youths joined them, including Zmary Zaland, the champion body builder.

(3) An earlier statement by the Taleban on 28 March said the protestors “should go to Shurab and Kandahar airbases of [the] American forces and ask them for peace instead coming to Musa Qala.” The statement warned against protestors visiting Taleban areas because international forces or intelligence services might take advantage of the situation “and something might happen to you.” (Pashto version: here)

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

Why Farah? A short history of the local insurgency (II)

Thu, 07/06/2018 - 04:02

The Taleban have been a persistent and growing force in Farah since 2001, rebuilding their strength quietly after the U.S. invasion and then seizing territory in remote districts. Insurgents now challenge pro-government figures for control of valuable trade and smuggling routes, assisted by the disarray among their opponents as the provincial government is hobbled by frequent changes of leadership and mismanagement. AAN co-director Thomas Ruttig with input from Graeme Smith provides background to the Taleban’s latest attack on Farah.

This is the second of two dispatches that analyse the recent Taleban attack on the city of Farah. The first dispatch, focused on the attack and its immediate aftermath. This second dispatch situates the attack within the broader framework of post-2001 developments in Farah.

Mujahedin stronghold and post-2001 Taleban area of retreat

The Taleban were never fully defeated after 2001, maintaining armed groups in many parts of Afghanistan. This included Farah province, where the Taleban retained a strong presence, particularly in the area of Shiwan village (sometimes written ‘Shaiban’) in Bala Boluk district. According to UN information seen by AAN, “thousands of Taleban” remained there after the fall of their regime in 2001, with “no efforts made by central government or Coalition Forces to disarm these inactive Taliban” (emphasis added by AAN). As in other provinces throughout the country, many Taleban had stopped fighting and returned to their communities, waiting to see what developments would occur under the administration of then-interim leader Hamid Karzai, and whether they might be able to join the political process. (1)

Shiwan is inhabited primarily by ethnic Pashtuns from the Alizai tribe (2) who are known as naqelin, or Pashtuns who migrated from their original home area. Many of them are Alizais forcibly moved from Musa Qala district in Helmand by the Afghan monarchy some 100 years ago and resettled in Shiwan. This explains the close links between the Taleban in Farah and the movement’s strongholds in Helmand (AAN analysis here). Other naqelin from Musa Qala were also moved further north to Shindand district, another hotbed of Taleban activity in neighbouring Herat province. This may explain the Farah Taleban’s close connections to the movement’s leadership in the greater Kandahar region. (3)

There is a history of revolt in Farah. Bala Boluk district was one of the first areas in the country to rise up against the Soviet occupation that started in late 1979. The so-called Sharafat Koh Front (“mountain of honour” front) emerged, named after a landmark in its area of operation in the district. The area was originally called Lwar Koh, or High Mountain, a range whose highest peak reaches 2,553 metres and cuts through the Ring Road (Highway 1) between Kandahar and Herat. This forbidding geography made the area difficult to control for the Soviets and later the Americans. This same region was also the 2015 birthplace of a self-declared “dissident” Taleban faction under Mullah Muhammad Rasul, a native of adjoining Bakwa district. Rasul had been one of the Sharafat Koh Front’s commanders, associated with the mujahedin organisation, Harakat-e Enqelab-e Islami (see AAN analysis here).

The insurgency’s comeback

During a visit by the author to Farah in 2006, the commander of the local US Provincial Reconstruction Team reported recent shelling of his compound. He said this was the first-ever attack on the PRT compound and it may have been a significant moment for the insurgency in Farah. The commander warned that the province was already a “combat zone”. Local sources confirmed later that the shelling had resulted in the arrest of Taleban commander who had previously been considered ‘inactive’.

In 2006, the Taleban leadership sent missions to Farah to reactivate former fighters, as it had already done in other provinces. In September 2006, Mullah Abdul Manan – not Mullah Omar’s brother but a pre-2001 district police chief in Farah – had established himself as Farah’s insurgency leader with the support of the Quetta Shura, mainly in Bakwa and Bala Boluk districts, but also in Anar Dara. The local drug mafia, linked to Baloch smugglers further south in Nimruz, with their century-old connections with Iran and Pakistan, was already involved in weapons smuggling from Iran, to the benefit of the Taleban. This may have been assisted by the small Baloch minority in Farah.

From then onwards, Taleban activity intensified on an annual basis in a pattern familiar to other provinces, including bomb attacks and assassinations as well as attacks on district centres. The violence steadily closed in on the provincial capital. As early as November 2004, attacks on UN and other aid convoys were already reported in Farah province. The first mid-ranking official was killed in August 2006, as insurgents ambushed Gulistan’s district governor Nesar Ahmad.

In May 2007, the Taleban sent more fighters to their strongholds in Shiwan in Bala Boluk and Diwar-e Sorkh village in Khak-e Safed, and warned local residents to evacuate the area as a clash with government forces was imminent. This led to population movements to villages near Farah city. (3) By the same year, the districts of Bakwa, Gulistan, Bala Boluk, Poshtrud, Delaram (4) and Khak-e Safed, with the exception of their centres, were under Taleban control. On 29 May 2007, the Taleban captured Poshtrud district centre in the first of such assaults, but only for two hours. In November that year, Khak-e Safed, Gulistan and Bakwa were also temporarily held by the Taleban and sections of the Ring Road in Farah were closed “on a daily basis,” according to a report by an international organisation seen by the author. In March 2009, Mullah Rasul was appointed shadow governor of Farah by the Quetta Shura. (5)

An attempt by a joint Afghan-US mission to push the Taleban from their stronghold in Shiwan in May 2009 turned into a disaster, with one of the highest civilian casualty losses of the entire war. Reuters reported, “140 villagers” killed,93 of whom were children “and only 22 were adult males.” Afghanistan Rights Monitor said in the same year that 113 of the killed were civilians, with “at least 26 women and 61 children.” (6) In October 2009, Afghan and US forces temporarily managed to capture Shiwan. In the same year, Taleban in Khak-e-Safed district warned civil servants to step down from their posts.

On 22 June 2010, the Taleban attacked the provincial governor’s compound in Farah city for the first time. They used an IED, injuring the head of the provincial council who was there for a meeting. In July that year, the Taleban organised a spectacular jailbreak from Farah prison. They smuggled in explosives with which inmates blasted open the front gate. In May, July and September 2012, Taleban fighters launched a series of ‘complex’ and bomb attacks on the governor’s compound, killing ten people in total. During this period the insurgents also conducted an assassination campaign in Farah, killing at least five high-profile figures. Among the dead were the controversial former Purchaman district police chief and governor Salim Mubarez; a former Jamiati-turned-Taleb-turned-Jamiati; the NDS district chief of Qala-ye Kah; and two other former Taleban commanders that had changed sides after 2001 and became district chiefs or Afghan Local Police commanders (AAN analysis here). In April 2013, nine Taliban suicide bombers killed themselves and 44 other people in an attack on a courtroom in the Farah governor’s compound where their comrades were on trial.

The Taleban failed twice in their attempts to take over Khashrod district of neighbouring Nimroz province in December 2016 and August 2017 and Bakwa in November 2016, although they temporarily succeeded in Gulestan in December 2015.

Attacks on the outskirts of Farah city began in October 2016 with fighting that lasted for over a week. The Taleban came as close as two kilometres to the city centre, to an area called Bagh-e Pul and had to be pushed back by airstrike. When the Taleban closed in on Farah city in Poshtrud district in early 2018, as reported above, this also had immediate effects on the general situation in the city. The Washington Post reported that “robbery and theft surged in the [provincial] capital as the conflict neared. Families fled to neighbouring provinces amid the chaos, and angry protests broke out.” It quoted a local resident as saying that “we have two governments — one on the other side of the river, and one on this side.” Provincial council members warned that Farah city was “on the verge of collapse.” During this period, locals feared the encirclement of the city as the insurgents took positions to the north and northwest across the Farah River and also about eight to nine kilometres south and southeast of the city, including in the Hasan Ghagh area.

Misgovernance, factional conflict and drugs

Some of the reasons for the bad situation in Farah were the corruption and rivalry among local pro-government strongmen who have undermined security, as well as the increasing convergence of interests between the drug trade, elements in the local administration and Taleban networks. At that time, there were only 20 to 30 policemen formally assigned to each district centre. Even if the official roster reflected the reality of personnel strength in the field, such numbers would have been too small to protect even the major towns.

The situation was exacerbated from the beginning by factional conflict. In Bala Boluk district, Zabet Jalil rose to prominence in the years after 2001 as the nephew of the powerful Noorzai tribal leader and Wolesi Jirga member Mohammad Naim Farahi. Jalil was pitted against former Taleban commander Mullah Sultan in a conflict over transport and smuggling routes, leading from Herat south to Nimroz and Iran. Ismail Khan in Herat, as the self-declared ruler of western Afghanistan, was vying for control of his neighbouring provinces and took Jalil’s side in the dispute. Jalil became head of the largest transport company in the province, serving mainly the coalition troops. Jamiat-e Islami and Hezb-e Islami competed for influence in a number of districts, making them vulnerable to Taleban infiltration. Armed conflict also erupted over land disputes in Gulistan and other districts. All this led to significant loss of civilian lives. But not too many people in Kabul noticed, as Farah – at the far western border – was remote and there were many more problems near the capital.

The provincial leadership, including governors and chiefs of police, changed on an almost yearly basis. Sometimes the central government appointed leaders from within the province, and sometimes from outside. Nothing worked. By the end of 2009, Farah had had ten provincial police chiefs and seven governors. After that, the frequency of these changes only marginally slowed down.

Farah’s government officials competed over the seven unofficial border crossing points to Iran, at which they collected customs – and apparently pocketed most of it. This allegedly continues. In a programme aired on Ariana TV on 22 January 2018, Homayun Shahidzada, a political commentator from Farah, said every day over 100 tankers of poor-quality oil were imported from Iran through Farah. But the taxes and tariffs paid “do not go to the government, but into pockets of mafia.”

Shahidzada further accused the provincial governor, the chief of police who has now been replaced, the head of customs and the NDS as well as the chairman of the provincial council and some other members of being “part of the mafia.” On 23 January 2018, Kabul daily Etilaat-e Ruz estimated the value of Farah’s total revenues collected at the border as five billion Afghani per year (around $70 million US dollars).

Over the last years, the Taleban have increasingly taken over some of the ‘taxing’ of the cross-border traffic. They have also been collecting taxes on inland routes. Etilaat-e Ruz reported on illegal mobile ‘customs offices’ on the highway connecting Farah and Nimroz in the south, and toward Herat, in the north (read report here).

The fight for control over transport and smuggling routes is deeply connected to Farah’s drug economy. In Afghanistan’s west, it is the largest and countrywide the seventh largest poppy-growing province. Growing and trafficking the produce is much of the population’s main source of income, particularly in Bakwa, Bala Boluk, Khak-e Safid, Gulistan, Poshtrud and, less significantly, Purchaman districts, according to UNODC. Not coincidentally, those are the districts with the earliest and strongest Taleban presence. According to UNODC figures, the area in the province under opium poppy cultivation rose by almost 40 percent from 2016 to 2017, from 9,101 to 12,846 hectares. (7) This has also spurred on the US military under its new strategy, which now also targets heroin labs as part of an attempt to deny the Taleban key income sources (AAN analysis here). In early April 2018, US and Afghan forces targeted 11 “Taliban narcotics production facilities” in Farah and Nimruz, according to a Resolute Support press release.

Although the number of security forces in Farah increased from the mid-2000s, to “about 6,000”, as the Washington Post reported in early 2018, (8) this was “less than half the number in next-door Helmand.” But official numbers might still be exaggerated. The article further quoted Abdul Sabur Khedmat, a member of parliament from Farah, as saying “60 percent of the police are ghost officers.”

Others suggest that Iran has undermined the government in Farah. MP Belqis Roshan, when talking to AAN on 16 May, claimed Iran supported the Taleban with ammunition and other logistics, an assertion that is widespread among local government officials (see here and here). Others, such as governor Salangi, deny this but officials in western Afghanistan told the author as early as in 2006 that they found it difficult to publicly speak against Iran, given its strong influence in the region.

Although there is no doubt that Iran has been influencing the situation in western Afghanistan for decades and that there is some Taleban presence in Iran, the extent of its involvement is not clear. Some allegations might also serve as a pretext to cover up the shortcomings in provincial and central governance, and might represent an appeal to the current US administration in the context of deteriorating relations with Tehran.

Conclusion: A long build-up to a strong presence

For some days in mid-May it looked as though the Taleban might take Farah city. This would have been their biggest military triumph since the capture of Kunduz for two weeks in 2015, including some near-misses in 2016 and 2017. The attack in Farah ended without success after three days, but the Taleban maintain their pressure on the city. Continued fragility of the provincial capital and district centres seems likely, as Taleban raids give the insurgency fresh supplies of weapons, ammunition and vehicles. Local insurgent commanders may have greater self-interest in cementing their control of lucrative checkpoints, rather than mounting ambitious assaults on well-defended government centres, but the movement’s leadership will continue to see the overthrow of a provincial capital as a way to show the world the Taleban’s potency. Given that the Taleban were never fully defeated in Farah and that their presence – as well as their capabilities and resources – have been rebuilt over the last decade, they remain a threat and one that is unlikely to be defeated militarily.

(1) Many of the Taleban remained armed after 2001 — as witnessed by the author in Ghor province in February 2002, for example, as well as in Paktia province, where a Taleban hideout was attacked during Operation Anaconda in March 2002 (see a 2002 Time magazine reportage here).

(2) This tribal affiliation partly explains the intra-Taleban split in 2015 (media report here) and the emergence of the “Rasul faction”. Rasul is an Alizai, a tribe that felt sidelined under the rule of Taleban chief Mullah Mansur (2012-15), an Eshaqzai. Mansur was felt to have promoted members his own tribe at the expense of other tribes in the Taleban leadership. The long-standing enmity between Alizai and Eshaqzai was exploited by the Afghan government, which supported Rasul in his efforts to break away from the Taliban and build a militia that often cooperated with government forces. (more AAN analysis here).

(3) In contrast to the NATO and UN categorisation of Afghanistan’s regions, which puts Farah in the west with its centre in Herat, Farah (and Nimruz) are traditionally seen as belonging to southern Afghanistan, the region sometimes referred to as Loya Kandahar (“greater Kandahar”) now, also encompassing Helmand and Zabul. (Farah’s and Nimruz’s attachment to the west also has to do with western Afghan strongman Ismail Khan’s ambitions in that region.) Even more traditionally, the Kandahar region was known as the southwest, while Loya Paktia was referred to as the south (as, immediately south of Kabul).

(4) This group was led by Mullah Sultan, an influential tribal elder and leader of the post-2001 ‘inactive’ Taleban. He initially refused to join the new insurgency, but involved himself later again, in mid-2005, was arrested and held in Bagram in 2006. He apparently became inactive again following his release in 2007.

(5) Delaram was listed under Nimroz province in 2013.

(6) Rasul already ran into trouble with the Quetta Shura after the killing of his rivals and leading Farah Taleban commanders during a joint Afghan-coalition operation in August 2009. The Taleban leadership launched an investigation into the possibility that Rasul might have had a hand in the killings.

(7) Report not online, in the author’s archive.

(8) The area under cultivation, however, was higher in previous years, beginning with 2007 (and with the exception of 2009).

(9) According to an Afghan media report, this included two battalions of the Public Order Police from Herat and two from the Herat army commando.

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

Surrounding the Cities: The meaning of the latest battle for Farah (I)

Wed, 06/06/2018 - 03:53

An attack on Farah city had long been feared. For years now, the Taleban have been taking control of the provincial capital’s outlying districts and inching their way towards the central hub. For a few days in mid-May, it looked as though the Taleban were about to take Farah city, which would have been their most significant military triumph since capturing Kunduz for two weeks in 2015. Their strategy of consolidating control over rural areas then digging in at a provincial centre’s outskirts before launching an attack appears to be an increasing trend. While they lost the battle in Farah on this occasion, the Taleban still pose a serious threat to the area. AAN co-director Thomas Ruttig together with Ali Mohammad Sabawoon, Rohullah Soroush and Obaid Ali unpack the attack and its aftermath.

This is the first of two dispatches examining the recent attack on the city of Farah. This first dispatch focuses on the attack and its aftermath. The second contextualises the attack in light of post-2001 developments in Farah.

The Farah attack

The Taleban attacked the provincial capital of Farah (1) in the early hours of 15 May. This was on day 21 of their annual military campaign announced earlier in April and just a few days before the beginning of the holy month of Ramadan. Within a few hours they had pushed through to the central chowk (junction) of the city. According to a local government military spokesman (quoted here), the Taleban set up checkpoints around the city and checked identity cards, trying to prevent people from fleeing. The Taleban had warned citizens over social media to stay indoors “and pray.” Many radio and television channels in the province stopped broadcasting, fearing for their employees’ lives, according to media watchdog Nai.

The Taleban started their attack at around two am from Regi and Chahar Bagh, areas to the immediate northeast and west of the city centre where the Taleban had concentrated their forces (media reports here and here).

During the first attack on 15 May, the Taleban moved towards Zara Ferqa, the old army division headquarters, now defunct, around three kilometres outside the city centre (media report in Dari here), and from there to the provincial headquarters of the National Directorate of Security (NDS), just south of it and located only 800 metres away from the provincial governor’s compound. The same morning, media footage from Farah showed black smoke rising above the NDS compound, although its defenders held out.

All three areas, Regi, Chahar Bagh and Zara Ferqa, are situated on the south bank of Farah River, which runs to the north of the city. It used to be the demarcation line between government and Taleban-held areas. That the Taleban took up positions there and were able to retreat to them and hold them after their attack was pushed back, demonstrates the continued threat to Farah city.

The Taleban also attacked the compounds of Farah’s police districts three and four, south of the NDS and the provincial prison, which is next to the provincial headquarters of the Afghan National Police (ANP). Afghan media reported that they used “heavy and light weapons.” They also employed suicide attackers against the police and, according to local reports, including several US-made armoured Humvee vehicles captured from Afghan forces. They had apparently been able to capture these during previous raids on police posts in Bala Boluk district in February, March and on 11 May 2018 as well as in Farah city on 11 May 2018 (more about the use of this weapon in this AAN analysis) – a clear indication that this attack had not come out of the blue.

Video clips also appeared on social media showing fighters inside the city seizing more weapons, ammunition and military vehicles from Afghan security forces. Most of this footage was filmed the first morning. Photos posted on social media also showed Taleban ‘special forces’ in gear not dissimilartothat of the Afghan army. In January 2018 the governor’s spokesman, Nasser Mehri, told Kabul-based daily Etilaat-e Roz that the local Taleban were equipped with helmet cameras and night-vision goggles.

According to Farid Bakhtawar, head of the provincial council, local government officials did manage to flee the city (see here). There were also reports that provincial governor Basir Salangi, a former mujahedin commander who was appointed in January 2018 (2), had left the city the night before fighting broke out and had relocated to a military base “a few miles from the city”, as the New York Times reported quoting “numerous local officials.” Ahmad Shah Fetrat, a local journalist in the city, told AAN “The city is empty, government offices, schools and shops are closed.” Tolo News quoted a local citizen as saying “people are running from the city.”

The Taleban, however, were unable to capture Farah airport’s runway or prevent reinforcements, particular of Afghan army commandos, arriving from Herat. Police special forces arrived from Kandahar (media report here) and Afghan and US air forces also carried out a number of airstrikes. Local journalists in the provincial capital confirmed to AAN that they had seen US and Afghan helicopters flying over the city, and NATO’s Resolute Support mission also confirmed US airstrikes in the province (read here and here).

In the afternoon of 15 May, government forces managed to push back the attackers to the Regi area (media report here). There were also reports about Taleban sheltering in residential areas within the city’s limits, from which they had driven out residents.

On 17 May, new fighting broke out “in some key parts of the city,” according to Afghan media reports (for example here and here), with attacks on the ANP headquarters, the prison and the residence of the head of the provincial council. According to Reuters, at least one more suicide bomb attack was launched near the police headquarters. The third police district reportedly fell to the Taleban. The same day, the Ministry of Education ordered that all schools in the province remain closed “till the situation has improved”. Fighting subsided after a few hours of battle; the city has been quiet since.

According to governor Salangi, about 300 Taleban, 15 soldiers, ten policemen and five civilians were killed during the first day of fighting. These figures are likely too low, though. The Taleban claimed the number of their casualties was much lower, in the single digits only. Independent sources estimated that 180 people had been killed from all sides, but without differentiating how many from each. The Interior Ministry in Kabul confirmed that provincial deputy police chief Abdul Razeq Sherzad was among the injured.

Salangi said 1,000 Taleban had been involved in the attack, with another 1,000 reinforcements brought in during the day on 15 May. The numbers cannot be confirmed, but AAN heard from several sources that the Taleban had gathered fighters from Farah, Helmand and Herat’s Shindand district (see this AAN analysis).

An attack foretold

An attack on Farah city had long been feared. The Taleban have systematically worked their way towards the city over many years (see the second dispatch), and their efforts have intensified over recent months.

Haji Khair Muhammad Nurzai, deputy head of Farah’s provincial council, told AAN in January 2018 that Mullah Muzammel, the Taleban’s shadow governor during an earlier, failed attempt to capture Farah city in late September/early October 2017, had now become the commander of the Taleban’s south-western military zone. This had given him the means to gather a larger number of fighters. AAN had already heard in January 2018 that 300 to 400 Taleban from the three provinces under the command of a Mullah Daud had started attacking government security posts and establishing makeshift checkpoints on the Herat-Farah road to try to find and sometimes kill government officials or staff working for international NGOs. One such incident was reported by Jamila Amini, a member of Farah’s provincial assembly, who told the media on 6 January 2018 that three or four out of twenty bus passengers had been abducted by the Taleban (she did not give the exact location). According to her, those abducted had been former police and government employees (read here).

On 28 February 2018, the Washington Post reported that the Taleban were “over running several security outposts, killing at least 43 policemen and wounding more than 50,” and crossing “the dried Farah Rud River, a natural barrier to the city, and attack[ing] a suburban outpost.” At that time in January 2018, fighting had already been going on for 20 days, and Gulbahar Mujahed, the province’s acting police chief, had been killed by a roadside bomb. Three days later Muhammad Ismail, intelligence chief of Poshtrud district, was also killed in a Taleban ambush.

A provincial council member warned Afghan media, that “every night five to ten security force members are killed and Taleban seize their equipment. But the government so far has not done anything to tackle the issue” (here and here). Approximately 7,000 families had fled the area, according to the local representative of the Ministry of Refugees and Repatriations.

In late March, Afghan commandos attacked a Taleban commanders meeting in Bala Boluk district, but this did not prevent the 15 May attack on the provincial capital.

In late April 2018, two weeks before the recent offensive, members of Farah’s provincial council expressed concern over the increase in Taleban control throughouttheir province. Deputy council head,Khair Muhammad Nurzai, was quoted by the Afghan media as saying that three districts – Bakwa, Khak-e Safid and Gulestan – were under the Taleban’s complete control, although this claim was later denied by provincial police chief Sherzad. Gul Ahmad A’azami, an MP from Farah,said six districts were largely controlled by the Taleban – Bakwa, Gulestan, Poshtrud, Bala Boluk, Anar Dara and Khak-e Safid – with government presence limited to the immediate district centres. Just before the latest attack on the city in mid-May, local sources had told the author that, in fact, this was the case in all of Farah province’s ten rural districts. In the remaining four districts, Purchaman, Qala-ye Kah, Shib Koh and Lash wa Juwayn, the government was comparatively stronger, according to senator A’azami .

The centre of Anar Dara was briefly overrun by the Taleban in March 2018, as was Shebkoh centre in October 2017. In November 2017, the Afghan army had to use helicopters in Khak-e Safid’s district centre bazaar to repulse a Taleban attack.

A quarter of all provincial centres are under threat

Afghanistan’s Ministry of Defence has indirectly confirmed the Taleban’s strategy of surrounding provincial cities. On 16 May 2018 its spokesman, Muhammad Radmanesh, said with some understatement and reacting to a media query: “Yes. (…) a few cities are under pressure.”

Apart from Farah city, he listed Maimana (Faryab), Pul-e Khumri (Baghlan), Tirinkot (Uruzgan), Kunduz and also Faizabad (Badakhshan). The media report, also added Ghazni. There, intense fighting was reported in two districts on the same day. One of these districts – Zana Khan – is just outside the provincial capital. Fighting in the province continues.

Lashkargah (Helmand) and Sar-e Pul (where incidents are underreported) could also be put into this category, although the immediate pressure on the latter has been somewhat relieved by the military successes of both Afghan and US troops, part of President Trump’s mini-surge (AAN analysis here), by taking back Nawadistrict centre just outside Lashkargah from the Taleban in July 2017 (media report here). This means that more than a quarter of the country’s 34 provincial centres face a threat from the Taleban.

Kabul could be added to this list, although the threat there is of a different nature; while the country’s capital is not close to falling to the Taleban, it is under constant threat of suicide and so-called complex attacks on strategic installations. This assessment has frequently been confirmed by UNAMA’s regular reportingon civilian casualties, which has shown for a few years now that Kabul suffers a disproportionately high number of attacks. In 2017, “16 per cent of all civilian casualties during the year occurring from such attacks in Kabul city.” Kabul province also saw the highest number of civilian casualties of the country’s provinces. Some Afghan politicians, such as Interior Minister Wais Barmak, have spoken about a city “under siege,” and Kabulis definitely feel this (see, for example, this report by Afghan journalist and former AAN colleague Ali Latifi). This has also been confirmed in Europe where some governments are talking security threats down in the context of their policy of deporting rejected Afghan asylum seekers. Recently, on 9 March 2018, the Cournationale du droit d’asile, France’s highest asylum court, has described Kabul as a “high-intensity situation of indiscriminate violence” (see here).

Reports by AAN and others have shown for a long time how the Taleban have implemented their strategy, moving slowly towards and encircling provincial centres. The most successful example was – and still is – Kunduz. Although the Taleban quickly lost control of the provincial capital in 2015 – and only came close to maintaining some control in 2016 and 2017, they haverepeatedly shownthat they have been able to penetrate the city, reaching its very centre. Symbolic snapshots taken at the city’s central chowk (junction) are of symbolic value for them. They did the same at Farah’s central chowk in the morning of 15 May 2018 after sweeping in there.

In Kunduz, the Taleban built a fundament from which they could move forward for years to come. As this AAN report showed, they started creating footholds in Pashtun pockets there as early as 2005 and increased their military activity from 2009 onwards (see how the build-up occurred in this AAN dossier). Establishing positions near important road links has also been part of their strategy, such as near the Ring Road in the districts of Baghlan-e Jadid and Dand-e Ghoriin Baghlan province, to the south of Kunduz (see this AAN analysis), with the aim of creating options to block government troop reinforcements during attacks in Kunduz (see here). This is what happened during their successful attack on Kunduz in 2015 (AAN analysis here).

The Taleban had in fact closed in on Kunduz city before this (AAN report here), as seen by their control over most rural districts, much like in Farah. Repeated government ‘clearance operations’ have been unable to permanently drive them out, even from the city’s outskirts where their positions can be seen with the naked eye (see here). Control over most districts has changed hands frequently between the insurgents and the government. The last Taleban takeover happened in Qala-ye Zal district, again, in mid-April 2018 (media report here; earlier AAN analysis here).

As in Farah, Taleban advances in Kunduz have been made possible by a combination of factors such as factional conflictswithin the provincial administration (AAN analysis here), weak leadership and a lack of cooperation among the different security forces (see here), as well asthe misrule of pro-government auxiliary armed forces (see here). Kunduz’ situation was exacerbated further by ethnic tensions and the settling of old scores along these lines (see an early Human Rights Watch report here).

Although Baghlan’s situation is less acute than that of Kunduz, the environs of its provincial centre Pul-e Khumri have seen a build-up of Taleban control and repeated low-level fighting since 2014 (AAN report here). The outskirts of the town are also where the Taleban blew up a power line pylon in March, which provides electricity to Kabul – power is still patchy as we write (media report here). That the government is still unable to repair the damage is testament to the fact that it does not have a grip on the area. The current fighting over Talawa Barfak district in Baghlan is part of the regional picture, as its centre controls an alternative route between the Kabul region and Kunduz. Talawa Barfak centre was captured by the Taleban on 8 May 2018 and recaptured by governments on 18 May 2018 (media report here), a repetition of events in March 2017 (media report here).

Further south, from Ghazni, the New York Times reported on 9 May 2018 that the city was “on the brink of falling to the Taliban”as“an increasing number of insurgents live openly in the city. Their fighters regularly kill officials [and] a Taliban court claims jurisdiction over the city.” Already in December 2017, the Afghan news agency Pajhwok had quoted Hassan Raza Yousufi, a member of Ghazni’s Provincial Council, that “[b]usinessmen, Provincial Council members, governor house officials and other individuals give taxes to the Taliban.” According to the same report there are frequent attacks on police stations in the city. Deputy provincial governor Muhammad Aref Nuri was quoted as saying in November 2017 (source: BBC Monitoring) that there had been16 assassinations in the past eight months in the city.

The Taleban had raided Ghazni city before, on 14 September 2015 (an AAN’s reconstruction of events here). During that attack, the Taleban did not only storm the provincial prison but they also ransacked the local NDS office, capturing intelligence files. This attack, however, was not a means to take over the city. Given certain parallels, it might suggest that the recent attack in Farah was not designed to capture or hold Farah either, but to strike and show the vulnerability of the Afghan forces and to stay in positions nearby. The Taleban’s modus operandi of only briefly capturing district centres, where government forces have repeatedly been forced to react and recapture, might be part of this strategy. This is not to say the Taleban would be able to hold a large provincial city for a longer period.

Over the past few months, frequent fighting hasalso been reported from Deh-e Yak, Khwaja Omari and Andar district, all three situated just outside Ghazni city. For example, the Taleban laid siege on Andar district in October 2017, attacked Deh-e Yak several times in November 2017, and temporarily overran Khwaja Omari in April 2018, shooting dead the district governor and police chief. AAN heard from locals that they dug a trench across that road, ambushing approaching vehicles of the security forces.

Information AAN received from local sources indicates that the attack on Jaghatu in particular, where the district headquarters was defended by only 15 to 20 police and NDS was orchestrated by the Taleban in order to seize weapons. According to these reports, they took a ranger vehicle and a mortar and burned whatthey could not carry. They set fire to the police HQ building as well. Reinforcements arrived very late, and could only retrieve the bodies of the 11 dead and five injured.

While AAN has covered the situation in Helmand and around Lashkargah in two long dispatches (see here and here) and in Faryab as well as its centre, Maimana, which is surrounded in all but one direction, less information is available for Uruzgan and Sar-e Pul provinces.

But reports of fighting near the two provincial centres, Tirinkot and Sar-e Pul, are frequent. Local reports from Uruzgan indicate that the situation is not greatly different from that in Farah; with most districts – except their immediate centres – under Taleban control and their fighters in the vicinity of the provincial centre. The last media reports are about a – failed – Taleban attempt to take over the centre of Chinartu district in January 2018 (here), both sides suffering consider casualties during fighting near Chora district centre in March and late May. On 31 May, Major Muhammad Sadiq, spokeman for Atal Military Corps 205, a military corp operate in the southern region of the country, told VOA Pashto that they had killed 12 Taleban in their air and ground attacks. He said that they had recaptured a number of areas of Chora district from the insurgents and that there was no risk of Chora district collapsing. The Taleban’s spokesman, on the other hand, tweeted on 30 May that they had captured Chora district. There was also a report in May that most voter registration centres in the province were“closed due to insecurity.”In Sar-ePul, the Taleban have brought relative stability to Kohistanat, a district they have controlled since 2015, while frequently threatening Sayyad district, which is next to the provincial capital, as well as Sancharak district. A rare indication of the complicated situation in Sar-e Pul city was given by the Afghan election observer organisation, the Transparent Election Foundation of Afghanistan (TEFA) in September 2017, when a representative told AAN (see here) that the Independent Election Commission only managed to access the provincial capital for its polling centre assessment. In general, though, remote Sar-e Pul is more like an area of retreat for Taleban fighters in provinces nearby, including Jawzjan and Faryab.

Finally, it is no coincidence that the three provinces withthe highest number of districts under Taleban control – Uruzgan, Kunduz and Helmand (according to the US military – USFOR-A) – are all provinces where the provincial capital is also under threat (quoted from 30 April 2018 SIGAR quarterly, see here):

USFOR-A identified the provinces with the largest percentage of insurgent-controlled or -influenced districts as Uruzgan Province, with four of its six districts under insurgent control or influence, Kunduz Province (five of seven districts), and Helmand Province (nine of 14 districts), all unchanged since last quarter.

Conclusion: A war of attrition and a waiting game

The Taleban strategy of surrounding and putting pressure on a number of Afghan provincial centres might be a deliberate strategy or just the coincidental outcome of their efforts to ensure territorial gain. Despite some fluctuation in their territorial gains, the Taleban have managed to establish and hold positions that are threat to a number of key population centres and national highways. From there, they can almost strike at will; government troops are mostly on the defensive and constantly forced to react by sending in the few élite troops that they have – which may well lead to their attrition (see AAN analysis here).

The Taleban apply a similar modus operandi to district centres, with a strategy that could be called assault-and-retreat. The fact that the Afghan Minister of Defence recently called (media report here) 216 of the 407 districts “unsecure” reflects that this strategy is both paying off and widespread.

Given the slow pace of the Taleban’s actual territorial gains, around one per cent per quarter according to figures given in the most recent SIGAR quarterly report in April 2018, this kind of war could go on for a long time. It depends on which side can hold its breath for longest, the insurgents or the Afghan government and its allies. It could also depend on which of them may be prepared to take a bold step to break out of this vicious circle, vicious mainly for the Afghan people and the country’s infrastructure.

With regards to Farah, the fact that the Taleban were only pushed back to positions just outside the provincial capital from where they started their attack means that new attacks can be expected. Farah is only one example for a situation that prevails in at least a quarter of Afghanistan’s provinces. It remains to be seen what happens if they acquire the capacity to attack several provincial capitals at the same time.

(1) The capital of Farah is inhabited by between 38,000 to 108,000 people depending on different sources. The lower figure stems from the Afghan Ministry of Urban Development and Housing’s report, “State of Afghan Cities” (2015) – it also gives 5,299 “dwelling units” for the city; the higher figures is from the Afghan Central Statistics Office 2012.

The term “city” for Farah should be taken with a pinch of salt. As many other provincial and most district centres, it does not have much of an urban character, with most buildings being low and many of traditional style. They are more village-like, and – more importantly – there is not much infrastructure that holds them together.

(2) His predecessor had stepped down following local protests regarding corruption and deteriorating security, citinginterference by powerful “individuals” in his work (see here).

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

How to End the Afghan War? A new publication on peace reviewed

Sat, 02/06/2018 - 04:00

A new short book-length report, “Incremental peace in Afghanistan” looks at what is needed to end the Afghan conflict. It explores the many drivers towards the war continuing – external backing for both sides, the war economy and basic persisting disputes about power-sharing – but also details what could drive a peace process – the many concerns shared by Afghans, the view of the war as pointless and, they say, international interest in achieving peace. The new report has an interesting mix of contributors – female, male, Afghan and international, civilians, Taleban, activists, politicians, academics and military. In this review, AAN Co-Director Kate Clark finds the report is timely and full of fresh voices and ideas.

Talk of peace in Afghanistan is in the air, at least more than it was a year ago. 2018 has seen the Taleban publishing a “Letter to the American people” on 14 February which appeared to propose talks with the US (1) and on 28 February President Ashraf Ghani offered peace talks to the Taleban without pre-conditions (read AAN’s take on that here). Positive noises came from the NATO’s Foreign Ministers meeting on 27 April (2) and from Resolute Support and United States military commander in Afghanistan, General John Nicholson on 30 May. As Radio Free Europe reported, he said some Taleban are talking, with a lot of “diplomatic activity and dialogue… occurring off the stage, and… at multiple levels,” with “mid-level, senior-level Taliban leaders engaging with Afghans” (full text of his press briefing here).

This year as well, a new, non-aligned, (very) embryonic peace movement has emerged after civilians in Helmand, fed up with being killed by both sides, called for a ceasefire; groups in more than half of Afghanistan’s provinces have since come together to echo these demands (see AAN reporting here). Many Afghans are also looking admiringly at the mass demonstrations known as the ‘Pashtun Long March’ that have been held across the border in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA). Pashtun civilians there are demanding civil rights and an end to insurgency and counter-insurgency being played out by Pakistani Taleban and Islamabad in their lands (see media reporting here and here).

As the Afghan conflict enters its fortieth year, there is actually quite a lot of agreement about it – virtually everyone agrees neither side can win and that the conflict is causing atrocious damage to Afghanistan and its people (ten thousand civilians killed and injured last year, to mention just one of the nasty statistics of this war – see more here). Yet even those who want to prioritise peace-making are often left stumped with many unanswered questions: what to do, who should speak to whom, what would peace ‘mean’ and how can we help (the author has heard the last question raised in many military and civilian international circles in recent weeks).

A timely publication

The publication by Conciliation Resources of “Incremental Peace in Afghanistan” is therefore very timely. (3) It is also very good, providing context, information and quite a lot of fresh thinking. This is how the editors lay out what they feel they have done with this publication:

[We] identify the need for a radical change in approach to move beyond peace rhetoric in Afghanistan through a progressive, step-by-step process towards political settlement, which builds stability, confidence and legitimacy over time. This would pursue two phased objectives: first, short-term – to reduce violence which inevitably involves a central role for the conflict parties, principally the Taliban and the Afghan government; and second, long-term – to achieve a more broadly inclusive social contract representative of all Afghans which is only achievable with involvement and ultimately endorsement across Afghan society.

There is a good range of contributors, including local perspectives from civilians in four provinces and from senior Taleban commanders and leaders in four areas of the country and from Quetta, analyses from academics like Barnett Rubin, Muhammad Nazif Shahrani and Thomas Barfield, the thoughts of senior politicians/military leaders including Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, Yunus Qanuni, Habiba Sarabi and retired US general Douglas Lute and statements from High Peace Council chair Abdul Karim Khalili and spokesman for the Taleban’s political office in Qatar Muhammad Suhail Shahin.

The report is split into three parts: historical lessons from the conflict and from earlier attempts at peace-making, priorities for peace initiatives, and options for institutional change. The lessons-learned section aims at understanding “how departures from established, violent political paths might be possible” and includes historical analyses of the Afghan state, critiques of the Bonn agreement and of Dr Najib’s late PDPA era attempts at ‘national reconciliation’ and a setting out of how the Taleban view the post-2001 era.

The final section of the report looks at the possibilities for institutional changes and features the thoughts of Hekmatyar and Qanuni and the views of Afghans living in rural Balkh, Nangrahar, Herat and Ghazni on elections, peace and reconciliation. It was thesecond section, ‘peace initiatives’, however, which contained some particularly interesting insights.

Fleshing out some detail when looking at initiatives for peace

Sippi Azarbaijani-Moghaddam manages to get away from focusing on women’s representation as mainly a tick in the box exercise to actually asking what would women’s participation mean for the peace process and how a range of Afghan women could be represented. For example, she writes:

There is also often an assertion that gains from a peace process absent of women would not be sustainable. But it is not clear how women’s participation would guarantee sustainability if women participants are in any case disempowered and must be granted space and permission to engage in the first place. This comes across as fearful and anxious rather than a proactive approach to entering the peace marketplace and seeing what is on offer. On the other hand, proactive approaches to peacebuilding on a small scale and at a local level have been fruitful, as a woman activist working with local shuras to reduce civilian casualties recently told me.

Perhaps the most surprising chapter is when of the publication’s editors, Anna Larson, hears from senior Taleban commanders and leaders from five ‘caucuses’ in the north, west/north-west, south-east, south and Quetta. “All groups currently self-identify as Taliban and belong to the central Taliban movement,” she writes, “but some have expressed the desire to become autonomous from it.” The conversations took place “in person over the course of several days in spring 2018 at an undisclosed location outside of Afghanistan, to which the five caucuses concerned had travelled in order to begin talks with a group of high-level actors representing several countries, including Afghanistan and the United States, about the de-escalation of violence and potential for reconciliation with the Afghan government.” One of the positions common to all five caucuses, says Larson, is that, “Above all, it is critical to end the needless killing of Afghans. We want to work towards the establishment of peace in our country.”

There is a lot that is interesting and unexpected in what these particular Taleban say. Among other things, those in the north complain about their marginalisation by “Kandaharis and Zadranis,” (4) a reference to the predominance of Kandaharis in the leadership and the clout of the Haqqanis. And, one of the west/north-westerners complains about the lack of local Pashtun political representation on the Provincial Council and in parliament – he also compares government help to his area, unfavourably, with the previous efforts of NATO’s Provincial Reconstruction Teams. A “senior member of an opposition group that has links to the Taliban” in the south-east insists they started fighting the ‘US invasion’ only in self-defence:

We are not the followers of fighting. We want to continue towards peace – we are not against democracy, it is not against Islam. We have three clinics and we have female doctors too. No one can control local security as well as we can. There is a dam being built in one of our districts and we have 60 people providing security for that project. No engineer has died or been kidnapped. We are supporting them. Police are in their jobs, we are supporting them also.

…No one will find anything in our history that connects us to suicide bombers. In our mountain areas there are foreign fighters – Chechen, Punjabi, etc – and we try to stop them as far as possible but we cannot do this all the time. We do not allow them to come to the villages or the mosques. Foreign fighters have a lot of money and weapons but still we try to stop them. We have no funds from opium. The Peshawar Shura is supporting the Haqqanis but it is not supporting us. This is our story.

This chapter shows that there are different voices within the Taleban. Those featured in the report may be critical of their own leadership, but, it should be noted, they are even more scathing about the Kabul government, complaining about corruption, the “criminals in power” and government forces who they allege sell their weapons to the insurgents and do not come to the aid of their comrades. These Taleban are not interested in surrender or coming over to Kabul, but they are interested in ending the conflict. It is also interesting that they talk about jobs, representation, power in Kabul and the districts, and the influence of Pakistan – all very normal concerns for Afghans generally.

Even though the Taleban controls or influences much of Afghanistan (how much is argued over, see here) for the discussion), the voices of individual fighters and commanders are rarely heard. Not all of this chapter is easy reading, but it is a welcome contribution, adding nuance, detail, complexity and some internal contradictions into what some Taleban within the movement think.

Also in the section on peace initiatives, Julius Cavendish writes about three local peace ‘accords’ that were made between Taleban and communities in Helmand province in 2006 and 2010 and which were successful but which ultimately failed. Although they had the support of some international players, they also suffered from a lacklustre response from provincial and central government and hostility by senior US commanders (described in this 2014 dispatch for AAN).

The accords show, Cavendish writes, that “even in the midst of very violent conflict, peace is possible in Afghanistan – and that local populations are prepared to take calculated risks to make it happen.” He believes the way the accords worked – and ultimately failed – also point to “several simple yet critical lessons.” They are: recognise that good brokers can play essential roles in peace mediation but have ambiguous identities; empower local communities; honour commitments punctually; be realistic about central government support; recognise that local deals can nonetheless pave the way for a national settlement and; coordinate military and political activities. On that last point, Cavendish writes:

This fundamental disconnect between Afghan and British officials pursuing a political deal on the one hand, and US warfighters on the other, was also evident in the contrasting narratives with which each described the second Sangin accord. Senior US commanders framed the deal as a surrender by Taliban-aligned fighters to the coalition rather than a compromise with honour – a depiction that many [Upper Sangin Valley] found both insulting and inaccurate. At the same time, US commanders insisted on ‘testing the deal’, sometimes by contravening its terms….

Where political and military action was coordinated, however, as it had been in the build-up to the first Sangin accord, the results were effective. Most notably, the exercise of ‘heroic restraint’ by British forces through the first half of 2010 was viewed positively by local communities, and contrasted sharply with abusive behaviour by out-of-area Taliban personnel, whose actions bred resentment and eventually led them to be perceived as occupiers – precisely as the district governor and his advisors intended.

Michael Semple, now a professor at Queen’s University, Belfast, but previously with both the United Nations and European Union mission in Afghanistan looks at what will be needed to foster a peaceful Afghanistan that is stable in the long-run. “A single, comprehensive peace agreement to agree a new social contract is unlikely to be achievable,” he warns. “A more viable alternative model would involve an incremental, phased approach that builds confidence over time.” He posits ten (rather daunting) priorities that need to be discussed and dealt with to create the sort of new ‘social contract’ which would foster peace and stability. They include “the preservation of national unity and Afghan identity; international military forces; security, respect and basic needs for combatants and people affected by conflict; state-citizen relations and the role and privileges of elites.” (5)

Dialogue and reform is needed, but cannot begin, he insists, without first an end to the violence:

The best way to shape the conditions conducive to such a sustained process of dialogue and reform would be to agree a pause in the fighting early on. Conflict parties wishing to participate in such a sustained peace process would need first to sign up to the suspension of violence.

Conclusion: drivers towards peace… and war

This new publication makes plain the very real factors driving the horrible persistence of war in Afghanistan:

… a well-established war economy, which fuels and funds violence. Both main parties to the war – the Taliban and the Afghan government – remain determined to fight on and have secured sufficient external backing to do so. Underlying the violence are persistent political disputes over how power is shared and how future reforms are configured.

Yet it also highlights how much Afghans of all stripes have in common, with concerns shared and even some of their narratives overlapping. There is a communal weariness with the war and a collective view that the conflict is pointless – what actuallyis it over? Also positive in the drive for an end to the war, say the authors, is that there is international interest in achieving peace.

The editors recognise both the many real difficulties and dangers and the many positive pro-peace forces. For them, after eighteen months of research on the topic, unless there is to be anindefinite continuation of violent conflict, an incremental progress towards sustainable peace is needed:

The cessation of violence would represent the single most important action to build confidence and help launch dialogue on core substantive issues. Such an approach recognises the importance of rebuilding relationships between the parties in expanding the possibility of agreement. Rather than involving a single text such as the 2001 Bonn Accords, an incremental peace in Afghanistan might consist of a series of agreements sequenced from easy to hard, with agreed reforms and confidence-building connecting the parallel short- and long-term tracks over a period of years.

As Afghanistan enters its fortieth year of conflict, this reviewer, at least, was happy to be reading something fresh and practical about how to achieve peace.

(1) Part of the Taleban’s letter read as follows:

The Islamic Emirate had asked America from the very beginning to solve her issues with the Islamic Emirate through talk and dialogue. The use of force has adverse consequences, and you might have now discerned the bitter consequences of American aggression against Afghanistan. If the policy of using force is exercised for a hundred more years and a hundred new strategies are adopted, the outcome of all of these will be the same as you have observed over the last six months following the initiation of Trump’s new strategy.

According we still believe that it is not too late for the American people to understand that the Islamic Emirate – as representative of its people – can solve its problems with every side through healthy politics and dialogue. Needless use of force only complicates the issues by creating new dimensions which gradually move out of the realm of control. The Islamic Emirate is a regional power with deep roots which cannot be subdued by sheer force. The chances of dialogue however are not exhausted. The American people must understand that the Islamic Emirate understands its responsibility and can play a constructive role in finding a peaceful solution for issues but this can never mean that we are exhausted or our will has been sapped. It is our policy that logic should be given a chance before the use of force. Whatever can be achieved by logic, should not be relinquished due to the use of force. It is the moral obligation of the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan to inform you, the American masses, about these realities.

(2) The Foreign Ministers’ statement included the following (emphasis added of a phrase which seems to point to the role of NATO forces in the country):

NATO Allies are united in their support for this proposal of an Afghan-led and Afghan-owned process. We will respect and support a negotiated political settlement led by the Afghan Government which ends violence, cuts ties to terrorism and protects the human rights of all Afghan citizens. We also support the Afghan Government’s intention to address all contested issues between the parties, including those relating to the future role of the international community in Afghanistan.

(3) Conciliation Resources (www.c-r.org.) describes itself as “an independent international organisation working with people in conflict to prevent violence, resolve conflicts and promote peaceful societies.” It publishes reports, roughly one a year, in a series titled “Accord”. These are aimed at informing and strengthening “peace processes by documenting and analysing the practical lessons and innovations of peacebuilding.”

(4) This should be ‘Zadran’, used for both single and plural members of the tribe

(5) Semple’s other priority areas are: inclusive security reform; property, economic rights and the illicit economy; structure of government and consolidation of electoral democracy; promoting Islam and religious freedom; judiciary and legal system; and ethnicity, social inclusion and equality of opportunity.

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

Widespread Violence yet Perpetrators go Unpunished: A new UN report on violence against Afghan women

Tue, 29/05/2018 - 14:00

Violence against women – be it murder, beatings, mutilation, child marriage, the giving away of girls in marriage to resolve disputes (baad) or other harmful practices – remains widespread throughout Afghanistan, despite the government’s efforts to criminalise such practices, the UN has found. Its new report highlights how mediation by government and traditional actors, which is widely used to resolve cases of violence against women, deprives them of access to justice and hinders their fundamental rights. AAN’s Jelena Bjelica and Thomas Ruttig summarise the report’s key findings.

Injustice for women victims of violence – generally called survivors – and impunity for perpetrators are still widespread in Afghanistan. Most cases involving violence against women, including for the five ‘serious’ offences stated in Afghan Elimination of Violence against Women (EVAW) law – rape, enforced prostitution, publicising the identity of a victim, burning or using chemical substances and forced self-immolation or suicide (apart from murder, which is regulated by the penal code) – are not prosecuted by or adjudicated in courts. By contrast, more than a half of the 237 cases monitored by UNAMA between 2015 and 2017 were referred for mediation. The Afghan authorities, as evident from the UNAMA reports, exacerbate the situation for victims by allowing mediation mechanisms to resolve serious offences and by not carrying out their duty to investigate or prosecute these offences.

These are the key findings of a new UN report released today, 29 May 2018, in Kabul. The report, entitled “Injustice and Impunity: Mediation of Criminal Offences of Violence against Women” jointly prepared by the United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) and the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) (read the full report here) is the sixth UNAMA report on violence against women since 2009, when the UN mission in Afghanistan began monitoring the implementation of the Elimination of Violence Against Women (EVAW) law.

The report is based on interviews and focus group discussions with survivors of violence and women’s rights activists as well as both traditional and government mediators. It is also informed by 237 cases of violence against women reported to EVAW institutions in 22 provinces monitored by UNAMA between 2015 and 2017 and 280 more cases of murder and “honour killings” documented throughout 2016 and 2017 by the UN mission. (1)

The legal framework: 2009 EVAW law and 2018 penal code

The EVAW law adopted in 2009 is a progressive law within the Afghan context. In addition to a broad approach to the issue of violence against women, including their harassment, the law also addresses forced and early marriage as well as polygamy for the first time in Afghan legal history (see this AAN analysis here).

However, the law has faced tough resistance from conservative circles, including in parliament, from the beginning. As a result, it was adopted by presidential decree, bypassing parliament. In 2013, MP Fawzia Kufi, the Wolesi Jirga’s (lower house) chairwoman of the Women’s Rights Commission, advocated pushing the presidential decree through parliament to make the EVAW law permanent. But she did so against the advice of other women’s rights activists, thereby risking a no-vote by the conservative majority. This was stopped by procedural tricks and as a result, the issue has still not been voted on by the lower house (see AAN dispatches here and here).

The new penal code adopted in 2018 also required a later amendment by presidential decree to make EVAW law crimes enforceable. Its draft had originally included a specific chapter on the elimination of violence against women, which, according to the UNAMA report, incorporated provisions to criminalise the majority of the 22 acts set out in Article 5 of the EVAW law. It had also included new provisions prohibiting both the detention of women on charges of “running away” and the practice of “exchange marriage,” or baad(when feuding families or clans exchange brides in the settlement of disputes). However, the final adopted version of the 2018 penal code did not include any reference to criminal offences of violence against women (with the exception of rape). The amendment was issued in a presidential decree (number 262) on 3 March 2018, which criminalised all five serious offences mentioned in the EVAW law.

While there is some political will among mainly women parliamentarians to vote on the laws, most MPs are still hostile towards criminalising violence against women, which, in Afghanistan, is often embodied in harmful traditional practices (honour killings and baad). As a result, EVAW-related issues have so far only been addressed through presidential decrees. This makes the existing legislation vulnerable to a backlash by the conservative majority in parliament.

Murders and “honour killings”

The UNAMA report found that the murder of women represents the second most prevalent form of violence against women in Afghanistan (the first being battery and laceration). UNAMA documented 280 cases of murder, including “honour killings” of women from January 2016 to December 2017. “Of these, 50 cases ended in a conviction of the perpetrator and subsequent prison sentences, representing 18 per cent of documented cases,” the report found, adding that “the vast majority of murder and ‘honour killing’ cases involving women never reached prosecution and the perpetrators are still at large.” (2)

UNAMA also found that in more than one third of cases documented over the two-year period, the police did not forward the cases to prosecutors. All of this, according to UNAMA, implies that the vast majority of murder and “honour killings” of women result in impunity for the perpetrator.

The report notes “deficiencies in Afghanistan’s applicable legislative framework for prosecuting ‘honour killings’ may have contributed to impunity during the period covered in this report.” This apparently has to do with the fact that “honour killings” are not criminalised in the 2009 EVAW law and appeared in Afghanistan’s 1976 penal code even as a mitigating factor to murder. Article 398 of the 1976 penal code states that “a person who kills or injures his wife or a relative in order to defend his honour will not be subject to the punishment for murder or laceration, and instead shall be imprisoned for a period of no more than two years.” The 2018 penal code, however, does not contain this reference and the justification of “honour killing” can no longer serve as a mitigating factor in murder trials, the UNAMA report said.

“Justice sector officials should investigate, prosecute and adjudicate ‘honour killings’ under the general murder provision in Article 512 [of the 2018 Penal Code], and sentence convicted persons accordingly,” the UNAMA recommended in its report.

Wide use of mediation: Misinterpretation of law and even “unlawful”

Of the 237 cases monitored by UNAMA, both traditional and government mediators resolved 145 cases. Mediators in most provinces informed UNAMA that these cases included murder, beatings, attempted rape, acid attacks and causing other injuries, domestic violence, “running away”, forced marriage, baad or forced suicide.

UNAMA found that EVAW institutions and non-governmental organisations not only conducted mediation proceedings, but also “referred cases to traditional mediation mechanisms, observed mediation sessions, or knew about mediation taking place, in relation to ‘honour killings’ and other serious offences stated in the EVAW Law.” The report said “Mediators in some provinces were either not aware of the limits on their authority to mediate cases, or did not admit to mediating the five serious offences, despite UNAMA findings to the contrary.”

According to UNAMA, the two different types of mediation carried out by traditional dispute resolution mechanisms related to violence against women – the mediation of criminal offences of violence against women and the mediation of wider disputes leading to decisions that result in violence against women – are both unlawful and constitute human rights abuses. An example given in the report states:

[…] Jirgas sometimes decide to give a girl in baad as a gesture of good will in order to resolve a dispute or criminal act between families. Traditional mediators however also mediated criminal offences of violence against women such as beating by spouses, harassment, causing isolation and more, in a similar way to the mediation carried out by EVAW institutions. In such cases, traditional mediators’ decisions largely involve commitment letters by the perpetrator to refrain from violence in the future.

The traditional mediation mechanism’s decision that is frequently harmful to women is often related to an exchange marriage. For example, UNAMA documented a case from the eastern region in which local families referred the case of a girl who had “run away” from her home because of an arranged marriage, to a jirga for resolution. The jirga decided, the report said, to give another 13-year-old girl from one of the families to the other family involved, in order to resolve the dispute. “The two families involved in this case insisted to the authorities that they had carried out a routine exchange marriage, which under the EVAW law may also be illegal,” the report said, adding that “UNAMA’s monitoring revealed that the illegal practice of baadhad taken place following the Jirga’s decision.” (3)

In nine provinces – Badghis, Paktya, Ghazni, Kunar, Maidan Wardak, Paktika, Khost, Balkh and Jawzjan – UNAMA found that mediators had adjudicated murder cases and that such practices were carried out almost exclusively by traditional dispute resolution mechanisms. Traditional mechanisms, the report states, “are not state-actors, and are not legally mandated to resolve criminal cases.” “Such mechanisms operate in an unofficial and unregulated capacity, their decisions in criminal cases are unlawful, and as such, are not subjected to any government oversight or scrutiny,” the report said.

This, according to the UNAMA report, amounted to misinterpretation of the EVAW law:

Article 39 of the EVAW Law is commonly used to justify referrals to mediation in criminal offences of violence against women. The article allows survivors to withdraw their complaint at any point of the judicial proceedings with the exception of the five serious offences, where the State is duty-bound to conduct investigations and prosecute such cases even without a complaint. The article however makes no reference to, or permits mediation.“

In spite of the large number of cases resolved through mediation,” the report said, “there are no policies on minimum standards of mediation, resulting in a great disparity of standards, procedures, referral of cases by EVAW institutions and capacity of the mediators.” Furthermore, the report said, there is no code of conduct or certification for mediators.

Furthermore, UNAMA documented that some survivors decided to withdraw their official complaints and agreed to mediation for fear of economic and social repercussions on their lives. For many survivors, the withdrawal of a complaint may be the only viable option, as dwindling international support has impacted the already limited shelter provisions in Afghanistan (see this AAN analysis on aid effectiveness); there are few other options for women who do not have the protection of their families. A recent attempt by the government to take financial control of around 40 non-government-run shelters, legal aid offices and halfway houses for women fleeing violence may further reduce the number of these safe havens for women (see here and here).

UNAMA further found that the main objective of mediators in violence against women cases was to achieve a re-unification of families, at the expense of criminal accountability and formal justice. “The woman’s choice about the matter is not properly taken into account,” the report said, adding that “insufficient or no attention is given to the protection of the survivor from future violence.”

The UNAMA report warns that there is no specific provision in Afghan law that permits or prescribes the mediation of criminal cases. It also highlights that the wide use of mediation in criminal offences of violence against women “promotes impunity, encourages the reoccurrence of violence and erodes trust in the legal system.”

“Where the five serious offences including murder and ‘honour killings’ were mediated by authorities or by others with the acquiescence of the authorities, this amounted to a direct breach of the EVAW Law, the Penal Code, and constituted a human rights violation on the part of the State,” the report said.

A vicious circle of violence

Many of the findings set out in the report are consistent with those previously published by UNAMA in 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, 2013 and 2015. This indicates that despite some progress, the general situation has largely remained unchanged. The conclusions of the joint UNAMA-OHCHR report highlight how dire the situation is. They include that state officials frequently fail in investigating, prosecuting and punishing perpetrators and providing reparations to victims. This has contributed to the existing high rate of impunity and strengthens the normalisation of violence against women in Afghan society. The wide use of mediation promotes impunity, encourages the reoccurrence of violence, erodes trust in the legal system and is unlawful. Women’s access to justice remains limited, and women continue to face inequality before the law.

Traditional mediation mechanisms – which, in an increasing number of countries are prohibited legal tools in cases of violence against women – do not have a mandate and are insufficient to prosecute serious offences of violence against women. Mainly composed of men in a male-dominated society such as Afghanistan, their rulings are often extremely unjust and largely punitive towards women. The “honour killings” of women show a particularly brutal aspect of a society that is suffering from violent conflict and which annually claims the lives of over 10,000 civilians. Yet the fact that these cases go unprosecuted shows just how far the country has to go.

There is little hope that Afghanistan, which ranks 154 out of 157 on the global Gender Inequality Index (4), will reduce violence against women in a society that is largely misogynistic. As the UNAMA report shows, the perpetual cycle of violence against women extends beyond traditional communities, and unfortunately it is often the state that contributes to the further victimisation of survivors.

(1) Between 1 August 2015 and 31 December 2017, UNAMA selected 237 cases of violence against women reported to EVAW institutions in 22 provinces (Kunduz, Badakhshan, Takhar, Baghlan, Balkh, Samangan, Faryab, Jawzjan, Bamyan, Farah, Herat, Ghazni, Paktya, Khost, Kandahar, Kunar, Laghman, Nangrahar, Kabul, Panjshir, Parwan and Maidan Wardak) and monitored and documented their progress through the justice system. UNAMA conducted this monitoring in two separate tranches. Between 1 August 2015 and 31 March 2016, UNAMA monitored and documented 165 cases across 20 provinces; and between 19 January and 31 December 2017, UNAMA monitored an additional 72 cases across 21 provinces. The report’s key criteria for case selection were that cases of violence against women be criminalised by EVAW law and that cases could be monitored by UNAMA field teams through direct access to survivors.

UNAMA also documented and monitored 280 cases of murder and “honour killings”: 104 cases in 2016 and 176 cases in 2017.

In addition to monitoring the progression of cases, UNAMA conducted interviews and focus group discussions across Afghanistan, documenting the experience of survivors, mediators and women’s groups. UNAMA carried out 103 individual interviews with mediators and representatives of EVAW law institutions in 24 provinces (Badakhshan, Kunduz, Baghlan, Takhar, Faryab, Saripul, Jawzjan, Bamyan, Daikundi, Badghis, Farah, Ghor, Herat, Khost, Ghazni, Laghman, Kunar, Nangrahar, Paktya, Kandahar, Nimroz, Uruzgan, Zabul and Helmand); 44 focus group discussions with mediators in all 34 provinces; and 39 focus group discussions with women activists in all provinces. UNAMA consulted 1,826 mediators, representatives of EVAW law institutions and women’s rights activists.

(2) UNAMA’s findings in this regard are broadly consistent with those of the Afghanistan Independent Human Rights Commission (AIHRC), which documented 160 murder cases of women during the first 8 months of 1395 (21 March to 21 November 2016) of which 119 were reported to be “honour killings”. According to the AIHRC only 33 percent of such cases were referred for prosecution. (AIHRC Report in Dari here).

(3) A new UNICEF study entitled “Child Marriage in Afghanistan: Changing the Narrative” and carried out in Bamyan, Kandahar, Paktya, Ghor and Badghis – in urban, semi-urban and rural locations informed by household surveys, case studies, focus groups and key informant interviews, found that 42 per cent of households in these provinces indicated that at least one member of their household had been married before the age of 18. However, the study shows significant disparities between provinces, from 21 percent of households in Ghor to 66 percent in Paktya reporting a marriage involving a child in their home.

(4) The Gender Inequality Index measures gender inequalities in three aspects of human development—reproductive health, measured by the maternal mortality ratio and adolescent birth rates; empowerment, measured by the proportion of parliamentary seats occupied by females and the proportion of adult females and males aged 25 years or older, with at least some secondary education; and economic status, expressed in labour market participation and measured by the labour force participation rate of men and women aged 15 years and older.

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

The Afghanistan Election Conundrum (8): Controversies over voter registration

Sun, 27/05/2018 - 09:22

As the Independent Election Commission (IEC) struggles to prepare for parliamentary and district council elections due to be held on 20 October 2018, one key prerequisite – voter registration – is not going well. Registration turnout, so far, has been very low, in part, due to security fears stemming from a new system aimed at reducing fraud: fixing stickers onto Identification cards after voters have registered. The problem is that the Taleban then know, who has registered. A proposal to increase turnout by fixing stickers to a copyof people’s IDs, has proved controversial and led to an open dispute between President Ashraf Ghani and two members of the IEC on the one hand, and the majority of IEC members and Chief Executive Abdullah Abdullah on the other. The proposal has subsequently been rescinded. Yet, say AAN’s Ali Yawar Adili and Thomas Ruttig, it has left a strong impression of chaos and lack of forethought. This dispatch also examines the debacle surrounding the appointment of a new chief electoral officer and translates the newly-published electoral calendar into English.

This is part eight of a series of dispatches looking at the preparations for the parliamentary elections. Part one dealt with political challenges; part two with an initial set of technical problems, including the date, the budget and the use of biometric technology; part three with electoral constituencies; part four with controversies surrounding the appointment of a new IEC member, after its former chief was sacked by President Ghani; part five with a demand by political parties to change the electoral system; part six with the date of the polls and with voter registration, and; part seven with a deficient polling centre assessment.

Voters – but not that many – start to register for the October elections

On 14 April 2018 (25 Hamal 1397) the IEC launched the first phase of voter registration, covering provincial capitals. It was supposed to end on 13 May (23 Saur) but has been extended for another month. The second phase is scheduled to take place between 15 and 28 May (25 Saur to 7 Jawza) in district centres, and a third phase from 30 May to 12 June (9 to 22 Jawza) in rural villages.

As AAN wrote in a previous report, the need for a completely new voter register came from a provision in the 2016 Electoral Law (articles six and eight) that requires the IEC to prepare a voter list by linking each voter to a specific polling centre. This means that, for the first time, people will only be allowed to vote in the polling centre where they are registered. It also means that voter registration is being done from scratch and will not simply be an exercise in registering those never previously registered or who had come of voting age since the last election.

This provision was an attempt to stem the massive fraud of previous elections, which had been facilitated by the lack of a reliable central voters list and the highly inflated number of voter cards in circulation. This, in turn, was a result of massive over-registration in the past: a total of 21 million voter cards were distributed throughout the various previous registration and top-up exercises for an estimated maximum total voting population of 15 million people (see AAN’s previous report here). This enabled multiple voting, among other forms of manipulation.

Article six of the Electoral Law states that voters should be registered based on their tazkeras or other identification documents specified by the IEC (the law was cautious because some Afghans, especially women in rural areas, do not have tazkeras). (1) The IEC, however, in its decision of 26 November 2017, specified that “only” tazkeras could be used for registration, to limit multiple registrations. This made it necessary for prospective voters who did not possess a tazkera to first obtain one. Therefore, the IEC signed a Memorandum of Understanding with the Afghanistan Central Civil Registration Authority (ACCRA) to issue around ten million tazkeras in a bid to include and enfranchise those who did not yet have them.

The IEC developed a voter registration procedure whereby eligible voters present their tazkeras at a registration centre. The voter’s information is then recorded on a registration and a confirmation form. Confirmation of registration – in the form of a sticker – is then separated from the registration form and fixed onto the reverse side of the voter’s tazkera; the voter is asked to use this same tazkera to vote.

The voter registration confirmation sticker includes the province and district where the voter lives, the name and code of the polling centre to which she is now linked, whether he is a Kuchi (because Kuchis are not tied to a specific polling centre) and a unique eight-digit serial number which, as former head of the IEC Secretariat Shahla Haque told AAN on 17 May 2018, was to identify individual voters. There are also various anti-counterfeiting features, including a hologram and a watermark and the use of what is called optical variable ink to prevent people making fake duplicates. The registration forms with the same features, along with additional information which remain in the registration books, are scanned and transferred to the national data centre. The scanned data is entered into the database by IEC employees and at the end of voter registration, a voter list will be developed for all polling centres and stations.

This new voter registration method will be able, Chief Executive Abdullah Abdullah promised a meeting of elders, influential people and youth on 15 April 2018, to “seriously prevent large-scale and organised fraud.” He said that, this time, the voter registration would be different from what they had been in the past.

Low turnout

The IEC has been releasing voter registration statistics, albeit not on a daily basis, and they are not looking good. The latest data from 22 May 2018 (English here and Dari here show that over the course of just over a month (14 April to 21 May), a total of 2,461,488 voters (1,688,676 male, 718,409 female, as well as 53,961 Kuchi and 442 Hindu and Sikh) registered to vote in 34 provincial capitals and districts. (The IEC does not provide a gender breakdown of Kuchi, Hindu and Sikh voters.) These figures does not represent the actual number of voters who have successfully registered as there has yet to be a verification process of voters, intended to exclude multiple registrations. Media reports from various provinces have described the turnout as low, with security threats highlighted as a major reason. (2)

Two domestic election observer organisations have mentioned another reason – the lack of public awareness about voter registration – as being behind the low turnout; see statements by the Transparent Election Foundation of Afghanistan (TEFA) on the first day of registration (14 April) and Free and Fair Election Foundation of Afghanistan (FEFA), on 15 April.

Stickers on tazkeras

From the outset, there were warnings that the registration confirmation stickers on paper tazkeras were discouraging voters from registering. On 15 April 2018, a day after the first registration phase began, FEFA, said that, according to observations conducted by 700 volunteers, the turnout on the first day of registration was very low, highlighting, it said, that the stickers on the back of voters’ tazkeras were a “deterrent.”

Similarly, on 28 April 2018, Tolonews blamed the stickers as one reason for low turnout. It quoted MP Nazir Ahmadzai as saying that those living in insecure areas could not have their tazkeras labelled for fear that the Taleban – who have called for an election boycott (more details below) – might punish people with documents showing their willingness to vote.

Broader security dilemmas

The Taleban have threatened anyone who registers to vote. On 14 April 2018, President Ashraf Ghani, while launching the voter registration campaign, called on the Taleban to participate in the upcoming elections or act as a political party as per the government’s peace offer. A day later, on 15 April 2018, the Taleban rejected this offer in a statement published on their website, saying the country was under occupation and their “first priority was how to protectthe country and people from occupation.” They called on “Muslim and Mujahed people to boycott the cosmetic and fake process under the name of election[s].” (3) Tolonews also reported, on 28 April, that it had been told by the Taleban that the elections were about deceiving people and that they would use all options available to stop any election-related activity.

Media also reported that the Taleban have been warning people in certain regions not to participate in the elections. For instance on 28 April 2018, Reuters reported that the Taleban had threatened villagers in Balkh province that they would “burn down the house of anyone” who voted. A resident of Rahmatabad village, in Balkh told Reuters that the Taleban, during a visit to his area, had assembled the villagers in the local mosque and warned them that if they went to registration centres and voted, the Taleban would burn down the village. Shams, a resident of Balkh’s Dowlatabad district, said, “’The most recent visit by Taliban tax collectors levying ushr (land tax) and zakat (an Islamic tax) included an explicit warning to stay away from the elections.” Taleban spokesman Zabihullah Mujahid, while denying that any warnings to burn down houses had been made, admitted that the Taleban were telling people to stay away from the elections. However, one Taleban commander was quoted as saying that “[b]urning a house is a small punishment if they are caught in supporting this U.S. operation to prolong their stay in Afghanistan.” The Taleban’s position regarding the upcoming elections and the overall deterioration in security seems to be the chief reason for the low turnout in voter registration in provincial capitals which tend to be more secure. Phases two and three of voter registration, in districts and villages, will also likely see low turnout given many of these more rural areas are more vulnerable to insurgent attack.

The Taleban have already backed up their threats with violence. On 10 May 2018, the United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) released a report verifying 23 election-related security incidents since voter registration started on 14 April 2018. Not all attacks were claimed by or attributed to the Taleban. They had resulted, said UNAMA, in 271 civilian casualties (86 deaths and 185 injured) and the abduction of 26 civilians (read the report here).

The vast majority of those casualties, reported UNAMA, occurred in one incident on 22 April 2018, when a suicide attacker detonated his improvised explosive device (IED) in a crowd outside a tazkera distribution centre in a Hazara-dominated neighbourhood west of Kabul city. 60 people were killed and 138 injured (198 civilian casualties in total). The aim of the attack appeared to be two-fold, disrupting the elections and, in particular, trying to stop Hazaras from voting. This was the conclusion of Muhammad Karim Khalili, head of High Peace Council, former vice-president under President Hamed Karzai and leader of one of the Hazara mujahedin factions; he said the attack was aimed at “preventing participation of a specific segment of society [eg the Hazaras] in the process of determining their future political destiny and preventing their presence in decision-making structures.”

The 22 April attack also prompted the Shia Ulema Council to issue a statement on 25 April 2018 calling on people not to register or apply for a tazkera until the government could ensure the security of voter registration centres. Its head of cultural affairs, Rezwani Bamyani, told Tolonews that it did not mean the council was boycotting the elections, but rather was setting preconditions for participation. However, the council does not represent all Shia Ulema. Many consider the voter registration process too important to boycott. The Bamyan Provincial Centre’s Ulema Council (Shura-ye Ulema-ye Markaz-e Bamyan), for example, issued a counter-statement on 27 April encouraging people “to appear at the voter registration centres and make yourselves eligible voters.” It said that anyone who opposed the elections or somehow prevented people’s participation in this national process was striking “an irreparable blow to the collective destiny of the people” and was “intentionally or unintentionally aligning themselves with the enemies of peace and progress of the country.”

Political leaders from the Hazara community also called on people to go to voter registration centres. For instance on 7 May, Muhammad Mohaqeq, leader of one of the larger Hazara political parties and Deputy Chief Executive, urged religious scholars during a meeting to support voter registration “since the enemy considers election as a factor of stability [and] tries to prevent our people from [participating in] elections by carrying out violent operations. Therefore, the people should take voter registration seriously, for the sake of their destiny.” However, earlier in the wake of the 22 April attack, he also cautioned that “today a big question on people’s mind” was “if today the security of people is not ensured during registration and distribution of tazkera, how will security be ensured on election day when millions of people should turn out?”

UNAMA confirmed in its 10 May 2018 report that putting stickers on tazkeras was only one of a number of security concerns. It said that “In some areas, the Taliban have reportedly threatened election-related staff with death or cutting off their fingers if they continue their work on the elections, and teachers have been warned that their schools will be targeted if they are used for voter registration purposes, resulting in school closures.” On 19 May 2018, Pajhwok reported that local residents had closed a school a month ago, after it was designated as a voter registration centre in a refugee township in Pul-e-Alam, the provincial capital of Logar, as they feared Taleban attack. The school closure came after students stopped attending classes. About 1,100 students have been deprived of education.(4)

Another incident which may have been linked to the elections has been brought to the attention of AAN. An eyewitness described seeing the bodies of two travellers who, he said, had been stopped and killed by the Taleban in the Ziwallat area of Jalrez district in Maidan-Wardak province on 10 May 2018. The eye-witness said he believed that one, from the Chap Dara area of Bamyan, was killed because he had had a voter registration confirmation sticker on his tazkera. (The other was from Ghorband valley and, he said, worked transporting injured government forces.) Whether the killing was election-related or not, this eye-witness and others believed it was – and that, in itself, is significant.

Taleban threats come in a context: in much of the country, they have the potential to act on them. According to the most recent quarterly report of the Special Inspector General for Afghanistan Reconstruction (SIGAR) published on 30 April 2018, only slightly over half of the country’s 407 districts were either under the government’s control or influence, ie 229 districts (56 per cent) as of 31 January 2018. The remaining districts were either under full “insurgent control” (13 or three per cent), under “insurgent influence” (59, or 14 per cent) or “contested” (119, or 29 per cent), indicating security problems that influence the preparation and carrying out of the elections.

Defense Minister Tareq Shah Bahrami and Interior Minister Wais Ahmad Barmaktold the Wolesi Jirga in early May (media report here) that they considered 216 districts to be insecure and that security forces would launch clearing operations there before the start of the second phase of voter registration. Bahrami said that 7,183 army personnel would be involved in the voter registration process across the country. (Barmak also announced that 10,000 police would be tasked with election security, with four to eight police posted at each polling centre.) However, the recent trends have not been promising. There is no sign that the government has been expanding its control or influence since the two ministers spoke to MPs. On the contrary, between the start of the Taleban’s annual military campaign announced on 25 April and 17 May 2018 , they had overrunat least five district centres in Badakhshan, Badghis, Faryab, Ghazni, and Kunduz, (as observed by the Long War Journal).

Initial incentive and coercion measures by government to boost turnout

The government has tried to help government employees and their families to register. It called on ministries to give a day off to their employees for registration, as family members of AAN staff working with ministries reported. President Ghani instructed 34 provincial governors in a video conference on 19 April, to ask government employees to accompany their eligible family members to voter registration centres to register. He also instructed the Minister of Hajj and Religious Affairs to ask ulema to speak about the importance of voter registration in their Friday sermons and encourage people to participate.

There has also been some coercion. The media has reported government agencies refusing services to clients who did not have registration stickers on their tazkeras: see for example this report by Tolonews report from 6 May 2018 which featured two people, one from Kabul and one from Jowzjan complaining about this. Kandahar police chief General Abdul Razeq said when he registered on 17 April 2018 that he had instructed all government agencies not to accept applications from citizens who did not have a tazkera or a voter card (see media report here and here). A relative of an AAN staff member who is a teacher at a Kabul high school was told by the school principal to register to vote, or her salary would not be paid.

AAN also received reports that many citizens had come up with their own strategy to avoid being punished by the Taleban for having registration stickers on their tazkeras: obtaining new tazkeras and claiming, falsely, they had either lost their old one or did not have one. This would enable the voter to use the new, marked tazkeras for both registration and voting only and the old ‘clean’ ones for day-to-day business, thereby making it less likely that, should they be stopped by the Taleban, they could be identified as registered voters.

A controversial solution for low turnout

As registration continued to be low, the IEC and the government came up with two solutions: firstly, on 10 May 2018, the IEC announced it would extend voter registration in provincial capitals by a month, until 12 June (22 Jawza 1397). Secondly, the IEC came up with the idea of allowing registration stickers to be put on copies of voters’ tazkeras, not on the original. This, it said, would enable voters fearing encounters with the Taleban to use their original tazkeras for normal business, and the copy with the sticker only on election day.

This idea, however, became highly contentious, dividing both the IEC and government leaders, and threatening to trigger the collapse of the entire IEC. The dispute came to a head on 10 May 2018 when four IEC members rejected the proposal in an internal vote, while two others, including chairman Gula Jan Abdul Badi Sayyad, supported it. Those opposing the ‘sticker-on-copy’ proposal argued it could undermine safeguards against multiple registrations and thus facilitate fraud. Later in the afternoon of 10 May, according to sources privy to this discussion, the president – who supported the idea of using a copy of the tazkera in order to boost registration turnout – called in IEC members to a meeting. He questioned the IEC’s authority to decide on the issue and told those IEC members who had voted against it to resign. This unfolding of events was also reported by social media activists (see for example here as well as the media the following working day (see here). (IEC deputy head for administration and finance Mazallah Dawlati confirmed during a television debate about elections on 22 May that President Ghani had indeed told those IEC members who disagreed with the proposal to resign (see full video here).

The Palace reported later that evening (see here and here) that the IEC had decided that staff could fix stickers onto copies of tazkeras “if applicants [potential voters coming for registration] want [this].” This stance was backed up by an IEC press release issued later that night (here and here) The IEC statement said that people “living or travelling in insecure areas” had shared their concerns about putting stickers on original tazkeras and as safety was “extremely important for the IEC,” it launched a widespread consultations with stakeholders, in particular political parties, tribal elders and civil society. The result, it said, was a consensus that “eligible voters would be able to go to voter registration centres with copies of their tazkeras” and have stickers labelled on them. However on election day itself, eligible voters would have to bring their original tazkeras along with the copy of their tazkera in order “to enjoy their right to vote.”

The IEC also said, without going into detail, that it would “take necessary measures to prevent duplicate registrations.” It warned that those who registered more than once would be deprived of their right to vote on election day and perpetrators would face prosecution.

Three days later, on 13 May 2018, a document was leaked to the Afghan media (see here and here bearing the signatures of the four commissioners who had resigned. The document said that “the IEC, through its decision number 30-1396, dated 18 Jaddi 1396 has approved the regulation for voter registration and the preparation of the voter list according to which voter registration confirmation [stickers] are stuck on the back of original tazkeras” The document said that no changes had been brought to this regulation and cited article 19 of the electoral law according to which the IEC “cannot amend relevant regulations and procedures during the electoral process.”

Those who signed this decision were IEC deputy chair of operations, Wasima Badghisi (a Tajik from Badghis), deputy for finance and administrative affairs, Abdul Qader Quraishi (an Uzbek from Balkh), Mazallah Dawlati (an Aimaq from Ghor), and Maliha Hassan (a Hazara, born in Kabul). Those who did not sign the document were IEC chair Gula Jan Abdul BadiSayyad (a Pashtun from Kabul), Rafiullah Bedar (a Pashai from Nangrahar) and Sayyed Hafizullah Hashemi (a Pashtun from Laghman) (see AAN’s previous report on the IEC members’ profiles here and here). (According to an AAN source privy to the IEC’s internal voting on the issue, as well as media reports, Hashemi had been travelling when the decision was made. Media reports) also quoted IEC deputy heads as saying that they took the decision in the presence of United Nations representatives, including UNAMA chief election officer Grant Kippen, and acting IEC CEO Shahla Haque.

The issue became more dramatic when Shahla Haque, acting head of the IEC Secretariat, resigned in protest against the proposal on 13 May 2018 and, a day later, on 14 May 2018, during the weekly Council of Ministers meeting, Chief Executive Abdullah Abdullah weighed in on the issue and spoke publicly against putting pressure on IEC members. There have been conflicting reports as to who proposed the ‘stickers-on-copies solution’. Chief Executive Abdullah suggested that the solution had been proposed by the Afghanistan Central Civil Registration Authority ACCRA. President Ghani’s spokesman, Harun Chakhansuri, however, said on 14 May it had been the Chief Executive’s own proposal (see media report here). (5)

Shahla Haquespoke to AAN on 14 May. She said that, aside from any legal arguments against fixing the sticker on a copy of voters’ tazkeras, it also made fraud easier because it is far easier to produce a copy – or multiple copies – and use them to register in various voter registration centres than to try to get multiple tazkeras. Secondly, she said, it would not solve the issue of low voter registration turnout, as stickers were only one security concern. Other, more serious concerns, she said, had also “led to low turnout.” She said that many voter registration centres had not even opened. The IEC had planned, she said, to open 1,419 registration centres for the first phase of voter registration, but security agencies had told the IEC that 44 would not open for security reasons. As registration had got underway, Shahla said, a further 87 centres had also remained closed (131 in total or about nine per cent).

According to media reports, in Uruzgan alone, 53 of 65 registration sites remained closed, as did 77 of an unreported total in Paktika and 7 out of 20 sites in Logar’s provincial capital Pul-e Alam (see here; here and here).

Moreover, even in Kabul voter registration had been low according to Haque, despite the fact that people in Kabul do not often travel to provinces and generally do not have the same security concerns about having a stickers on their tazkera.

She suggested that, even for those who do travel to insecure areas, there could be a solution, which, according to her, was to carry a copy of their tazkera when travelling to reduce their vulnerability to the Taleban threats.(She in fact echoed a solution that was later on adopted, see below)

The four dissenting IEC members reportedly contemplated resigning collectively. This apparently led to a diplomatic intervention. (6) In the end, the decision to fix stickers onto tazkera copies was overturned and the threat of the IEC falling apart was averted. The IEC confirmed this on 16 May 2018, announcing that voter registration would take place “based on original tazkeras” (see statement here). IEC member Maliha Hassan told AAN on the same day that the press release regarding the decision to put stickers on tazkira copies had been taken down from both the IEC’s website and Facebook page. She also said that ACCRA had been told to issue duplicates of tazkeras for those who travel (so they could carry the duplicates and not those original with stickers). This compromise throws the country’s national identity tazkera system into disarray while also providing a backdoor for those who do obtain duplicate copies, who fear for their security as a result of registration. (7)

Although the controversy was resolved after six days, it tarnished the credibility of the IEC (as their internal voting based on majority rule was not respected and appeared to have been influenced by an external source). It also raised questions regarding interference by the government, in particular the presidential palace, especially as this is not the first reported interference by the president in the IEC’s work. For instance on 21 April 2018, Afghan media reported that during a video conference,President Ghani had ordered provincial electoral officers (‘PEOs’, also known as heads of the IEC provincial offices) not to release voter registration details to the media but only to IEC headquarters. FEFA executive director Yusuf Rashid criticised the president’s move, saying it would pave the way to fraud. He added that FEFA’s observers had been prohibited from “taking pictures at registration centres” which, he said, would “question the credibility of the process.” Rashid told AAN on 22 May 2018 that FEFA’s observers had begun to face this problem four or five days after registration began, and that IEC employees at voter registration sites were still being inconsistent in providing information regarding registrations.

No head of the IEC Secretariat

One immediate impact of the sticker dispute was the resignation of the acting head of the IEC’s secretariat. It came, not only when the IEC is trying to ensure smooth voter registration, but as another key activity was starting – candidate nomination. It began on 26 May. Now, there is no leadership in the secretariat at all. This particular debacle should never have arisen. The vacancy at the head of the secretariat has been there for more than seven months.

On 21 October 2017, the previous chief election officer or CEO, Imam Muhammad Warimach, was dismissed by President Ashraf Ghani on 21 October 2017 (see AAN’s previous reports here and here. He continued to serve as CEO until 16 January 2018 when Shahla Haque, until then head of the IEC’s training department, was appointed as the acting head.

Like the IEC commissioners, the chief election officer is a very important appointment, which, according to article 22.3 of the electoral law, is made by the president from among three candidates proposed by the IEC. After Warimach’s sacking, the IEC advertised the position on 20 February 2018. Within the six-day deadline, 29 people applied according to an IEC press release. The IEC started shortlisting on 12 March.

Shahla Haque had told AAN before she arrived that she had not applied for the position as she lacked certain legal requirements for the post (the applicant should have a degree in certain fields, which did not include hers – medicine). A UN election specialist expressed concern to AAN that, if Haque were replaced, things could unravel – especially if a new chief election officer with no experience was appointed. According to this source, things had been moving well with election preparations since Haque had served as the CEO. (See also AAN’s previous report.

On 21 May 2018, the IEC announced their selection of candidates: Ahmad Jawed Habibi (former deputy head of the IEC Secretariat for operations and currently an adviser with the Ministry of Finance), Abdul Basir Azemi (former deputy minister of water and energy) and Ahmad Khaled Fahim (head of the Swedish Committee in Afghanistan). They put forward their choices to the president for him to then appoint one of them as the head of the IEC Secretariat (see the IEC’s decision here and media report here). There are accusations against two of these candidates. Multiple sources told AAN that a corruption case had been brought against Habibi about actions he had taken during the 2014 elections in his capacity as then deputy chief election officer. They said he had close allies within the president’s camp. The same sources said that Azemi, who is Herat MP Qazi Hanafi’s son-in-law, also has a corruption dossier against him. He is affiliated with Jamiat and is in the Chief Executive’s camp. AAN is not in a position to confirm these corruption accusations against either man. The final candidate, Fahim, is affiliated with and supported by Hezb-e Islami. He ran the Nasrat English and Computer Course in the Shamshatu camp in Peshawar around 1995-2002.

The appointment of the chief electoral officer may take some time. Warimach was appointed by a panel that included President Ghani, Vice-President Sarwar Danesh and Chief Executive Abdullah. A likely disagreement among the government leaders cannot be ruled out given the backgrounds of the three candidates. This important appointment has yet to be finalised. Meanwhile, the date of the election, 20 October,creeps ever closer.

Conclusion: Saving the 2018 election?

The IEC began registering voters in mid-April. It is an important step in preparing for October’s parliamentary and district council elections and for next year’s presidential and provincial polls. Threats by the Taleban and actual violence by it and ISKP have helped dampen turnout. The decision to put voter registration confirmation stickers on voters’ tazkeras made many people vulnerable if they travelled to or through rural areas where Taleban checks were likely. Attempts by the government and the IEC to find a solution ended in controversy, as is so often the case on Afghanistan’s bumpy ride before an election. Sensible arguments and legal provisions collided. Diplomatic intervention was required to prevent the process from derailing, as the IEC was close to disintegration. Actually, neither of the options on how voter registration stickers should be applied – on original tazkeras or copies – could solve the fundamental security threats facing Afghan voters.

(1) For instance, on 6 May 2018, Pajhwok reported that 80 per cent of residents in Pato district in Daikundi province did not have a tazkera. According to the report, Haidar Ali Dawlatyar, a civil society activist in Daikundi, said people in Pato were ready to pay money from their pockets to finance mobile tazkera distribution teams.

(2)For instance on 20 April 2018, Tolonews reported that Muhammad Zaher Akbari, the head of the IEC provincial office in Paktia, warned of threats against a number of voter registration centres in the province. Akbari also complained about low voter registration turnout, calling on security agencies to “boost their cooperation with us in order to move the process forward.” A day later, on 21 April 2018, Tolonews reported that Badakhshan activists and elders had started a campaign to encourage people to register and that people there hadcomplained that insecurity was one of the reasons stopping people from registering.

Similarly, according to a Pajhwok report on 21 April 2018, Ahmad Shah Sahebzada, Helmand’s provincial IEC officer, while citing insecurity as a major reason for public distrust in voter registration, complained that despite the fact that security officials had assured full security, people remained scared and were not coming to registration centres in large numbers. Pajhwok also reported, on 22 April 2018, that, according to Sahebzada, elections were impossible in five out of 14 districts in Helmand province: Baghran, Musa Qala, Nawzad, Khanshin and Dishu, all of which are under Taleban control.

On 7 May 2018, Salam Watandar reported that Abdul Ali Faqiryar, district governor of Pusht-e Koh in Herat province, had said that, despite the fact that there was security in most parts of the district, 14 voter registration centres allocated to the district had been cancelled by the IEC for unknown reasons. Herat provincial electoral officer, Muhammad Daud Sediq Zad, reportedly said that the decision had been taken due to security threats. A number of people in Pusht-e Koh district warned that they would be disenfranchised if the centres were not reopened soon. On 7 May 2018, Tolonews reported that officials from the IEC provincial offices in Khost, Paktia and Paktika had said that turnout for voter registration in these provinces was low and that women’s participation was insignificant. They also listed terrorist threats and growing insecurity as reasons for low turnout in registration. On 9 May 2018, Tolonews reported IEC provincial officials as saying that 113 voter registration centres in the eastern region of the country faced high security threats. According to the report, these centres included: 48 out of 157 voter registration centres in Nangrahar; 38 out of 124 voter registration centres in Laghman province; seven voter registration centres in Kunar and 20 voter registration centre in Nuristan.

Diplomats in Kabul have also noted the low turnout in voter registration. For example, on 6 May 2018, Canadian ambassador Francois Rivest, in an interview with Tolonews, said that the people’s reluctance to register was a challenge and that the ‘international community’ was providing advice to the government and the IEC which, he said, was “looking at steps to improve the level of registration.”

(3) Below is AAN’s working translation of the Taleban’s statement:

Yesterday, during the launch ceremony of the voter registration for elections, the head of the Kabul Regime Ashraf Ghani called on the Islamic Emirate to participate in it and we clarify our position as below:

The Islamic Emirate believes that our dear homeland, Afghanistan, is under occupation. Thousands of foreign soldiers are based in the country and the occupiers are making important civil and military decisions. Considering this, the first priority of the Islamic Emirate is how to protect the country and people from occupation and besides [upholding] other rights, retake the right of deciding political leadership and elections from the occupiers.

If [the questions of] who leads the people [presidency] or [who sits on the] council [Wolesi Jirga and/or district or provincial councils] are decided under the occupation, this will be a big disloyalty to the country and the Muslim nation and it will be only cheating fellow citizens and internationals. It is because we saw how, in previous elections, the people were cheated under the name of ‘election’. The final decision was made by US foreign secretary John Kerry and the National Unity Government was set up at the US embassy by American officials.

Nothing else can be expected from the forthcoming elections. Authority will be given to those who are already accepted by the White House or elected by the Pentagon. Therefore the Islamic Emirate asks its Muslim and Mujahed people to boycott this cosmetic and fake process under the name of election, instead of participating in it and to deliver on their religious and national obligation to fight the occupiers and Americans for the independence of their country and bring about an independent and legitimate system and spend all their talents in fighting the evil of the disbelievers and bring about a pure Islamic system.

(4) The IEC conducted a polling centre assessment in 2017 (see AAN’s previous reporting here, as result of which it moved the majority of the polling centres to schools. The IEC proposed 7,355 polling centres across Afghanistan. 11 additional centres were added after a complaints procedure, bringing the total to 7,366. A security assessment of the centres by the security agencies showed that 3,190 of them (43 per cent) faced either a medium or high threat, or were in areas not under government control. Stickers on copies or on originals of tazkeras would not make much difference to the threat facing people in many areas, as long as the Taleban threatens or controls close to half of the polling centres.

(5) Abdullah’s spokesman Mujib Rahimi, however, contradicted his boss on 23 May 2018, as he told Ariana News that though the proposal had first been made by Abdullah, he opposed it after a number of IEC members opposed it. He also said, “The IEC was compelled [by president] to issue a statement without the desire of the majority of them [IEC members] [and] against [their] approval and the IEC members were complaining and objecting to this and it was there that the Chief Executive announced [his] position and explained that the decision is taken by the IEC, not by the government.”

(6) For instance, Etilaat Roz reported on 21 May 2018 that Tadamichi Yamamoto, the Secretary-General’s Special Representative for Afghanistan, in a meeting attended by IEC members, called the president’s decision “regrettable and dangerous” and stood by the IEC.

(7) It is not clear who told ACCRA to issue duplicate tazkeras to those who travel, but the IEC’s 16 May statement said: “…the commission carried out technical consultations with ACCRA for addressing the security concerns of citizens and has finally reached this understanding that those citizens of Afghanistan who suspect that they face threat due to having stickers on their tazkera scan go to ACCRA and obtain duplicate tazkeras. ACCRA will issue duplicate to those applicants if they have [their] original tazkera with a sticker with them.”

Annex: The Electoral Calendar

Based on the electoral law, the electoral calendar should be prepared and published by the IEC 120 days before election day. The IEC did publish this on time (see here and here), on 22 April 2018. It looks as follows– AAN has translated it into English and added the Gregorian dates, with important dates in bold):

Number Activity Start date End date Gregorian dates 1 Announcement of Election Day 11 Hamal 11 Hamal 31 March 2018 2 Voter Registration 25 Hamal 22 Jawza 14 April to 12 June 3 Filing of objections and complaints regarding voter registration and addressing them 25 Hamal 1 Sartan 14 April to 22 June 4 Publishing the voter list 23 Asad 23 Asad 14 August 5 Publishing the electoral calendar 2 Saur 2 Saur 22 April 6 Registration of candidates for the Wolesi Jirga and district councils 5 Jawza 22 Jawza 26 May to 12 June 7 Reviewing candidates’ registration information 6 Jawza 6 Sartan 27 May to 27 June 8 Publishing the preliminary candidate list 7 Sartan 7 Sartan 28 June 9 Filing challenges to the preliminary candidate list, as well as corrections 7 Sartan 9 Sartan 28 to 30 June 10 Addressing challenges to the preliminary candidate list 9 Sartan 11 Asad 30 June to 2 July 11 Final date for candidate withdrawal 8 Sartan 10 Asad 29 June to 1 August 12 Publishing final list of candidates 12 Asad 12 Asad 3 August 13 Finalising polling centre list in terms of security 2 Sartan 2 Sartan 23 June 14 Establishing a Media Commission 6 Sawr 28 Hoot 26 April 2018 to 19 March 2019 15 Campaign period for the Wolesi Jirga election 6 Mizan 25 Mizan 28 September to 17 October 16 Campaign period for district council election 11 Mizan 25 Mizan 3 to 17 October 17 ‘Silence period’ (no campaigning) 26 Mizan 27 Mizan 18 to 19 October 18 Filing complaints about the campaign period 6 Mizan 27 Mizan 28 September to 19 October 19 Voting day 28 Mizan 28 Mizan 20 October 20 Tabulation of the Wolesi Jirga 28 Mizan 19 Aqrab 21 Filing complaints about voting and the count and addressing them 28 Mizan 29 Aqrab 20 October to 20 November 22 Announcement of the preliminary results of the Wolesi Jirga elections 19 Aqrab 19 Aqrab 10 November 23 Filing complaints about the preliminary results of the Wolesi Jirga elections 20 Aqrab 21 Aqrab 11 to 12 November 24 Addressing complaints about the preliminary results of the Wolesi Jirga elections 21 Aqrab 14 Qaws 12 November to 5 December 25 Sending the final decision(s) of the ECC to the IEC 14 Qaws 21 Qaws 5 to 12 December 26 Announcing final results of the Wolesi Jirga elections 29 Qaws 29 Qaws 20 December 27 Tabulation of votes of the district council elections 20 Aqrab 17 Qaws 11 November to 8 December 28 Announcement of preliminary results of the district council elections 18 Aqrab 18 Aqrab 9 November 29 Filing complaints about the preliminary results of the district council elections 18 Qaws 20 Qaws 9 November to 11 December 30 Addressing complaints about the preliminary results of the district council elections 20 Qaws 22 Jaddi 11 December 2018 to 12 January 2019 31 Sending decision(s) of ECC to IEC 23 Jaddi 28 Jaddi 13 to 18 January 32 Announcing final results of the district council elections 4 Dalw 4 Dalw 24 January 2019

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

Uprising, ALP and Taleban in Andar: The arc of government failure

Tue, 22/05/2018 - 12:25

The Taleban look to be preparing for a new onslaught on Andar district centre. The name ‘Andar’ is still full of political resonance, gained in the summer of 2012 when the Taleban were suddenly and swiftly pushed out of a large part of the district. That counter-insurgency in an insurgent stronghold was styled the ‘Andar Uprising’ and was promoted enthusiastically by the government and United States military they hoped it marked the start of a wave of popular revolts against the Taleban. But by late last year, the last areas captured by the uprisers in 2012 were lost back to the Taleban. The government now controls just a tiny sliver of land and that precariously. Roads to the district centre are cut off and residents are preparing themselves for a new onslaught. In this latest in a series of dispatches on the Andar uprising published by AAN since 2012, Fazal Muzhary and Kate Clark consider why the government has failed so badly in Andar and what it tells us about the attractions and perils of raising ‘community defence forces’.

This piece draws on earlier AAN research on the Andar uprising (1) and subsequent developments, as well as a range of new interviews with locals (both combatants and civilians) and international officials. Revisiting Andar is an opportunity to put events there in context, in the light of a research project* which in part is looking at community defence forceswhat makes them successful or not. Andar is a good example of a community defence force which failed. Although the uprising group and the Afghan Local Police (ALP) which it soon mainly turned into were initially successful in their fight against the Taleban – with strong Afghan National Security Forces (ANSF) and international military backing – they ultimately failed to hold territory. In addition, introducing a local counter-insurgent element led to extreme violence, producing the opposite outcome from the ‘population protection’ mantra that has been used to justify the mobilisation of community defense forces.

This dispatch can be read alongside a forthcoming analysis of the ALP in Yahyakhel district, in neighbouring Paktika, looking at why it has been highly successful.

The arc of government failure in Andar

All the signs are that the Taleban are preparing to launch a fresh attack on Andar district centre. On 4 May, as witnessed by one of the authors, they used an excavator to dig a hole on the outskirts of Ghazni city on the main, asphalted road which leads to Andar and then on to Paktika. The highway was already blocked in the other direction, meaning Andar was already cut off from the Afghan National Army (ANA) base at Chahardiwal,to the east of the district headquarters. With a third road also blocked by the Taleban, supplies can only now reach the district centre by air, with government helicopters vulnerable to insurgent rockets. A government operation to open the Ghazni-Paktika highway began on 14 May, but failed to get beyond the outskirts of Ghazni city. Residents in Andar told AAN the insurgents have distributed letters to officials offering amnesties: if they surrender their weapons and go home, they have been told, they will not be harmed. Provincial council member Ahmad Faqiri warned that “If the district doesn’t get supplies and reinforcements, there will be a disaster.”

Local people have been waiting, as they have all winter, for the Taleban to again attack the district centre. In October 2017, it suffered an intense offensive and three-day siege – after the Taleban had blocked supply routes. (2) 60 Afghan National Police (ANP) and ANA managed to hold out against a Taleban force of 300 for three days, from 17 to 20 October. (Significantly, there were no longer any indigenous uprising or ALP forces still operating, only a small number of Shinwari ALP from Nangrahar, who did not fall back from their posts just outside the district centre on the road to the ANA base, to defend the town centre.) The Taleban onslaught was broken only by intense air strikes by US forces and the eventual arrival of ANSF reinforcements, including commandos. More than 70 people, including civilians, security forces and Taleban, were killed and injured in the attack. (3) The Taleban also captured pretty well the last of the territory they had lost to the uprisers in 2012. Government forces were left controlling just the district centre – now badly damaged – and four nearby villages.

Since the three-day siege, the ANA was making occasional forays against the Taleban and the insurgents were lobbing occasional rockets at the district centre and attacking ANP checkposts in the nearby villages. However, the government failed to regain control of any of the area round the district centre. Few people from outside town were risking coming to thebazaar and only three of the 16 families who fled the district centre and surrounding villages in October returned. The Taleban warned residents they would attack Andar again. They now fear that is imminent.

What happens in Andar is strategically important. It lies on the east-west road joining Ghazni city (37 kilometres away) to Paktika province and forms one of the ‘gateways’ to Ghazni’s provincial capital. The main Kabul-Kandahar highway also passes through the western part of the district; insurgent control makes this vital road vulnerable to closure. The district also hosts one of the most important madrassas in Afghanistan: Nur ul-Mudares has, for decades, served as the religious hub for the whole south and south-east of Afghanistan, supplying top-level mullahs, madrassa teachers and imams. Andar also retains its political significance because of the 2012 uprising. Six years ago, it was the bellwether for those who hoped popular uprisings would lead to a routing of the Taleban. This dispatch looks at the reasons for the government’s failure there.

The nature of the 2012 uprising

Andar (also known as Shelgar) district went over to the Taleban insurgency very early on after the collapse of the Taleban regime, with young men who had mainly been madrassa students when the Taleban were in power taking up arms against the new government and its foreign backers as early as 2003. By 2012, Andar had been solidly held by the Taleban for years. Yet in May and June of that year, a new, local group of counter-insurgents formed. They called themselves De Melli Patsun Ghorzang (the National Uprising Movement), a term soon used for similar groups elsewhere in the country; members called themselves patsunian. In a rapid and unexpected campaign, the uprisers gained outright control of 46 out of the district’s 480 villages and stopped or reduced Taleban influence in others, so that the insurgents’ freedom of movement was hampered and constrained in about half of Andar (see detail here). The most immediate effect of the change of control was that schools, which the Taleban had closed in response to a government ban on unregistered motorcycles, which were being used to launch attacks, were re-opened.

Many in the media, in government and among Afghanistan’s foreign backers hailed the event as a ‘popular uprising’. “Villagers take the counterinsurgency into their own hands,” reported The Economist. Radio Liberty described how “[a] group of angry Afghan villagers have got the Taliban scrambling after they mounted an unlikely rebellion against the insurgents in eastern [sic] Afghanistan – and won.” Meanwhile the Washington Times wrote that, “Fed up with the Taliban closing their schools and committing other acts of oppression men in a village about 100 miles south of Kabul took up arms late last spring and chased out the insurgents with no help from the Afghan government or U.S. military.” Influential American commentators, Frederick and Kimberly Kagan writing in the Wall Street Journal, differed in the detail, but not in their enthusiasm:

The Taliban attempted to crush this nascent resistance. But local fighters supported by NATO and Afghan forces defeated them, sending shock waves through the Taliban leadership and the Afghan government… As a result, many villages across Afghanistan are now modeling the “Andar Uprising,” by which they mean forming anti-Taliban groups that seek the help of NATO and the Afghan military. This phenomenon is not as widespread or pivotal as Iraq’s “Anbar Awakening” in 2006-07, when Sunni tribesmen helped turn the tide against al Qaeda-backed insurgents. But it is extremely important as a harbinger.

Yes, as AAN research at the time found (read it here), the ‘uprising’ in 2012 was far messier than generally reported. This was an intra-militant struggle, rather than a case of popular resistance. The revolt was initiated by a group of young Hezb-e Islami members who had joined the Taleban. Their decision to move against their comrades was certainly buoyed up by widespread local discontent with the Andar Taleban’s particularly harsh rules; these included the widespread closure of schools and bans on development work and visiting the district centre, including the Mirai bazaar, which is located there. They had also forbidden mullahs from giving Islamic funerals to those killed by the Taleban because they worked with the government or were ‘spies’. Calling the rebellion a ‘popular uprising’, though, in the sense of an uprising organised and carried out by local communities was a misnomer. Local people, aside from the Hezbi fighters, were not actively involved.

Moreover, a variety of patrons, both pro-government politicians and US special operations forces, rushed to support the counter-insurgents, leading to splits, including from the original rebels who said they were with neither the Taleban nor the government. They condemned the politicians trying to harness the uprising as Mafiosi. The various splinter groups which emerged had different loyalties and chains of command, recruiting young men largely through informal networks. One international working in Ghazni at the time described the rivalries among those seeking to control and benefit from the force, including between Governor Musa Khan Akbarzada and Ghazni-born former governor and then NDS Director Asadullah Khaled. (4) “They spoiled the dish from the beginning,” he told AAN. “There was no chance of a genuine, endemic, local rebellion from the bottom up that had legitimacy from local people to develop.” In August 2012, AAN reported that among locals, “feelings are mixed about what has happened.” Some celebrated the re-opening of schools and of the Mirai bazaar and the distribution of aid. Others were already worried:

…people had more optimism for the change in the beginning when it was mainly ordinary local youths who were fighting. Later, when they saw former commanders getting involved and when members of the arbakai started harassing some people who were or had been sympathetic to the Taleban, concerns started to overcome the optimism. Many now worry about the way power changed hands and fear a new phase of factional violence could be looming: internecine conflict among the Andar tribespeople would have long-lasting repercussions.

In that same August 2012 dispatch, we reported that the government had refrained from officially adopting the Andar ‘rebels’ as an ALP unit under the Ministry of Interior, “[T]his would seem prudent,” we said, “given the lack of tribal cohesion among the Andar and the local residents’ hesitance [sic] to support a government-designed plan.” However, by October, a new ALP unit had been established.

Why set up an ALP in Andar

According to both ALP regulations and the ethos of the programme, local involvement is an integral and essential element in setting up ALP units. However, according to local people, they were not consulted on whether they wanted an ALP and if they had wanted it, who they wanted to serve in it. (For detail on the regulations and how they were all too often ignored, see here and here, especially pages 12-17). One respected local businessman, who asked not to be named for security reasons, told AAN that most locals were simply unaware that the ALP was being set up in their district. He said they only learned about it when they saw armed men wearing ALP uniforms in the district centre. “The only difference between ALP and the upriserswas the uniform,” he said, “The upriserswore no uniform.”

Rather than community demand driving the decision to establish an Andar ALP, various Ghazni politicians were pushing for it and, most significantly, the US military wanted it – or at least, the leadership did. There was actually a great deal more scepticism about the wisdom of supporting both the uprising and the ALP among internationals working in Ghazni, as several have described to AAN (all asked not to be named). Along with another international working at mid-level in ISAF HQ, they described a disconnect between what the international military leadership wanted to believe was happening and what those on the ground knew was happening.

“News of the uprising had reached ISAF HQ,” remembered the international working at ISAF headquarters, “They were desperate to find anything that looked like progress or demonstrated a change in the engagement in the population to support their mission.” In Ghazni itself, though, he stressed, both civilian officials and military officers did have an accurate idea of what was going on.

We had fidelity of information at the tactical and operational level. There were smart people there. They had been able to work out what was actually going on. The decision-making at the centre was more influenced by politics in the home nations… and there was a real desire to represent [the uprising] as progress. Headquarters wanted a good news story. They had a cartoon view of the uprising in their heads: the Taleban were trying to close the schools and the kids had risen up and said, “We want our education,” because they wanted jobs and a future… I would characterise some of the thinking as cognitive dissonance.

The leadership, he said, did not want to hear what was actually going on in the field. He cited an example of a senior officer refusing to relay a report from the field upwards because it contradicted what the command wanted to hear.

Another interlocutor based in Ghazni described US civilian officials in Kabul as “gushy and breathless about how [the uprising] was going to change everything.” He said they thought “the locals are fighting the Taleban. There will be a genuine, local endemic rebellion and we’ll be able to leave. They were blind. They didn’t see what was happening because they didn’t want to see what was happening.”

At the time, the man in charge of US and NATO forces was General John Allen. He had been a key commander overseeing the Anbar Uprising in Iraq. The similarity of the place names – Andar and Anbar – and the hope that the Sunni Awakening could be replicated as a counter-Taleban counter-insurgency in Afghanistan appears to have been too tempting. Despite advice to the contrary, which interviewees told AAN he was given, Allen publically drew parallels between the two utterly different uprisings. “This is a really important moment for this campaign,” he told Foreign Policy magazine (quoted here: “because the brutality of the Taliban and the desire for local communities to have security has become so, so prominent—as it was in Anbar—that they’re willing to take the situation into their own hands.”

Those in the US military tasked with setting up the ALP found willing partners in the various politicians from Ghazni who had already been quick to try to leverage the uprising and any new force, especially if it was internationally-backed, to enhance their own power and gain resources (armed men or money). These includedGovernor Musa Khan and NDS Director Khaled, and two jihadi-era rivals, both of whom were former MPs and commanders, Khial Muhammad Hussaini (Harakat-e Enqelab-e Islami) and Abdul Jabar Shelgari (Hezb-e Islami). More details about the lobbying and rivalry of commanders, politicians and notables and how this created splits in local forces along sub-tribal lines and between mujahedin factions can be found in AAN reporting from August and September 2012 and April 2013.

Recruitment into the ALP

Most, but not all uprisers became ALP. There was also fresh recruitment. If the ALP had been a genuine community force, one would have seen fathers introducing their sons to the force, or a part, at least, of the community coming together to organise some of their young men to join. Instead, the view from the ground, as described to AAN, was that most of the recruitment was based on friendship relations between peers. The local businessman referred to earlier described how the ALP would “immediately recruit” those put forward by existing members “and give them weapons” with little scrutiny as to their competence or checking in with the community. He said many of those recruited were jobless youths recently expelled from Pakistan. They joined the ALP not out of a desire to liberate their communities from the Taleban, but, said the businessman, because they needed jobs, and because being in the ALP and having a weapon would make them powerful men in their villages. A resident of one of the villages where the uprising started, who also asked not to be named, said “The actual tribesmen were not consulted about the creation of ALP. Neither were they told to introduce men to serve in it.” Rather, he said, in those villages already controlled by uprisers, youth would individually decide to join the new force. “Every day, we would learn that this or that person had joined.” The UNAMA Protection of Civilians annual report for 2012 also said that “community members reported dissatisfaction with… the ALP recruitment processes.”

Another perspective on ALP recruitment in Andar comes from military academic, Matt Dearing, who was a member of the civilian Human Terrain Team in Ghazni advising the US military at the time and is now an assistant professor at the National Defence University in Washington DC. (5) He described a local figure called Khalil Hotak, a former Jamiat-e Islami commander, influential political activist and head of a council of tribal elders from across Ghazni, the Community Salvation Council, as having carried out training and recruitment of “resistance fighters into the ALP.” The US special forces were then responsible for vetting and training those put forward.

KhalilHotak enjoyed good relations with the US military from 2001 onwards and, said Dearing, was often at the US military base in Ghazni. (He has also been accused of grabbing thousands of acres of state land in Ghazni province (see for example, this report from Khaama news agency.) In conversation with AAN, Dearing said the men Hotak put forward were mainly, but not all local – they also included people from Kabul and Wardak. Nevertheless, they were men he could vouch for. He was, said Dearing, “central to ALP recruitment.”

This outsourcing of some ALP recruitment to Hotak appears to have represented the extent of ‘community involvement’ in the creation of the new force. As to why the US military chose to outsource this crucial task, Dearing said, “Khalil Hotak was someone who was able to make himself appear to have a lot of influence throughout Andar district. His name was always there or brought up in key leader engagements, he would come to the base and bring food and host dinners for the special forces. He was always lobbying, for his own interests possibly, or the interests of the greater community, I don’t know for sure.”

Normal procedures for recruitment may been shortcut because, as Dearing described it, US conventionalforces – three companies – were preparing to draw down in the province (6) and special forces teams had “limited intelligence on demographics and the needs of the rural population, let alone the Uprising.” At the same time, however, the US military in Ghazni were under immense pressure to mobilise ALP rapidly:

At an individual level, there were US commanders who realised and wanted to know if there were abuses going on, realising that there needs to be accountability and disciplinary measures. There were people at battalion or company level in Ghazni, dealing with these things on a daily basis and meeting uprising leaders, but they were getting a lot of pressure from above to make [the ALP] happen. [They were told]: “There needs to be ALP. We have to have X number of ALP by such and such a date.” The need to get the numbers up took precedence over micro-level local concerns.

Whether a genuine community defence force – defined as one where the community is consulted, agrees to the force and has some control over membership, and recourse if that force behaves badly – could have been established in Andar is, of course, unknown. The district is almost completely mono-ethnic and mono-tribal – practically all the inhabitants are Pashtun Andars. However, there are many sub-tribes and Andars are notoriously disunited – local people use the phrase “as disunited as Andar” proverbially. Moreover, tribal solidarity had worsened both during the reign of the brutal mujahedin commander Qari Baba in the 1990s – himself an Andar and fighting with Harakat – and the Taleban insurgency.

At the same time, however, Andar people have proved their ability to organise and take collective action: in 2013, for example, gatherings were held on both sides of the frontline to consult on and set bride prices because they had become too high (see here). In December 2013, local people also gathered to discuss building bridges (see here) across the river passing through the district. These gatherings were organised by local people without government involvement. This level of community coordination and collective action suggests that consultation on the ALP might have been possible. (Whether the community would have then supported such a proposal is another question – by this time, the indiscipline and non-accountability of the armed young uprisers may well have made the idea of setting up a formal local defence force unattractive to many.)

Whether possible or not, it appears neither the state nor the US military sought to consult the population. Instead the first introduction of the idea to the community wasa ceremony held on 21 October 2012 to formally announce the formation of the ALP in Andar district, and introduce the members. Even then, few Andar elders were present to witness Ministry of Interior officials, including the head of the ministry’s ALP section, inaugurating the first unit. All those who came were from areas under the complete control of the uprisers,and almost all were already or would soon became involved in the ALP, either directly or through their sons. (7)

Why two forces?

Andar got an ALP, but it also retained uprising forces. In April 2013, they amounted to a few dozen fighters, mainly were from the original Hezbi group of rebels (see reporting here and here which also describes a third group who left altogether out of disgust at their movement being ‘hijacked’ by the government). Some of those who stayed as uprisers gave personal reasons for not joining the ALP – they said they still had a separate and different cause – but there were also ‘demand’ factors causing the continuation of two separate forces, argues Dearing. “While patrons offered strong incentives to join ALP, they also continued to incentivise… [the uprisers] by maintaining alliances, weapons and resource provisions, and conducting joint operations.” For them, “… the necessity for a local, informal security response led to continued state support to predatory paramilitaries in Ghazni.”

Both the ALP and uprisers in Andar were touted by government and the US military as ‘community defence forces’, but actually they answered to other interests and that, in the end, had an impact both on their behaviour and on the weakness of the community in getting them held to account. Locals rarely differentiate between the two forces, referring to both (as do the Taleban) by the now pejorative term, ‘arbaki’ (here meaning an undisciplined and unruly pro-government militia)

Andar versus Andar, an intensification of violence

In autumn 2012, we reported that Andar had become “one of the most heavily militarised zones in Ghazni.” As well as the newly formed ALP, there were the remnant uprisers – different armed groups, each with its own chain of command, clustered in the villages immediately to the west and south of Mirai, where the uprising had started. The ANP and ANA deployed forces – UNAMA described a “strong” ANSF tashkil– to the district centre, as did the NDS (it has paramilitary units). US troops, including special forces, were also operating in the district. The ALP, formally under Ministry of Interior command, had strong and influential local patrons. As to who the remnant uprising forces answered to, that was not clear, but they were supported by and carried out joint operations with NDS and US special forces. Taleban were also still present, “roaming freely and calling the shots in most parts of the district,” we reported that autumn. Locals told UNAMA there had been “an increase in Taliban forces from outside Afghanistan in the area following the uprising.”

The mobilisation of anti-Taleban local forces led to an intensification of violence. One estimate of the total number of Andars killed from all sides in 2012 was 102, which would have made it the bloodiest year for the district since the start of the insurgency. (8) The impact specifically on civilians was documented by UNAMA in its 2012 annual Protection of Civilians report: 45 civilians were killed or injured in Andar that year, the majority of whom were directly or indirectly related to the uprising. “While the uprising movement did not involve the direct targeting of civilians,” UNAMA said, “the presence of a new fighting force, an increased presence of ANSF counter-insurgency activities and the establishment of ALP combined with increased numbers of Taliban sent to counter the uprising, all contributed to civilian casualties.” (9) The high number, it said “highlighted the frequency of violent clashes” in Andar.

Over the winter of 2012/13, the militias expanded their foothold by capturing more villages from the Taleban in the south of the district and to a small extent in the east. These villages had already been abandoned by the Taleban and had been serving mostly as buffer zones. However, the majority of villages in Andar never came under ALP or uprising control.

In spring 2013, both government and Taleban were promising to eliminate the other’s forces in Andar. By November of that year, AAN was reporting that the violence there had become “increasingly savage,” with rough estimations by local elders and notables of more than 300 people killed since the start of the uprising, far exceeding all the dead of the conflict between summer 2003 and summer 2012. “More shockingly,” AAN wrote, “the conflict has spread not only in numbers, but in the quality of the violence, with a widening of targets and tactics.”

As a future dispatch looking at Taleban attitudes towards community defence forces, which uses Andar as one of its case studies, will show, Taleban violence against the ALP and uprisers was extreme during this period. No quarter was given (by contrast, the Taleban allowed ANA and ANP to withdraw or surrender). The Taleban also made attempts to infiltrate the ALP and get ALP members to defect in order to carry out mass ‘green-on-green’ killings of local policemen. They continued to carry out reprisals against civilians associated with the ALP and uprising forces. UNAMA had already reported on this in 2012 when it documented five targeted killings of pro-uprising civilians. In November 2013, a roadside bomb targeted a van of wedding guests travelling in an ALP area. It killed 19 people, almost all women. Locals lynched a young man assumed to be with the Taleban whom they caught allegedly running away from the scene and beat him to death. As we wrote “…the belief that the ‘other side’ would want to kill female wedding guests (and it is hard to think of a killing with a stronger taboo), stems from the mounting aggressiveness and hatred perpetuated by both sides involved in this conflict, an enmity which has been partly fuelled by rival mullahs.”

2013 also saw a ban by both sides on the Islamic burial of enemy combatants. Six clerics were killed that year for violating this ban, two on the Taleban side, two on the ALP side and two others, whose ‘affiliation’, if any, was not clear. In November 2013, a Taleban mullah was reported to have issued a ruling that everyone in ALP villages was a target (he was subsequently killed by the ALP). A year previously, locals had reported to UNAMA that a Taleban mullah had issued a fatwaagainst members of the uprising, for them to be killed and their wives taken. The judge was killed in November 2012 in a search and raid operation by ANSF and international military forces – the Taleban condemned the killing of the “local imam” by arbakiand international forces.

Both sides fought hard. The Andar ALP was one of the most robust ALP stood up, tough in battle, and also enjoying a lot of support, at least initially, from both US and Afghan forces. The remnant uprising force also received money and support, especially from the NDS and US special forces. Both fought in joint operations with other Afghan and US forces. Like the Taleban, ALP and uprisers carried out reprisals against those they believed belonged to or were sympathetic to the other side; as detailed below, the victims included civilians.

Abuses by the ALP and Uprisers

Only in the very early days of the uprising were fighters relatively well disciplined. As we reported, at first, the extent of uprising fighters bothering locals was to ask them to provide food or money for their basic survival. By October 2013, that had already changed, with residents reporting armed youth arresting people coming from Taleban-controlled villages and those whom they suspected of being pro-Taleban. Frequently, the detainees were released only after paying money or being robbed of their goods. Some were beaten. Such abuses, particularly of the population of newly conquered villages, continued into 2013.

Over the next two years, reports of serious abuses by both the ALP and remnant uprising groups persisted. In 2014, AAN detailed ALP units extorting money from detainees. For example, the commander for Andar district centre, Rohullah, arrested a mullah, Faiz Muhammad from Tut village, in the district bazaar in late May 2014, beat him and freed him only after he paid 180,000 Pakistani rupees (roughly 1,800 USD). In early June 2014, ALP members detained another mullah, the imam of a local mosque in Mirai under the pretext of interrogating him again about his alleged relations with the Taleban. “Such detentions and extorted payments for release,” we wrote, “resulted in a widespread frustration among locals, especially after customers, concerned about these developments, stopped coming to the bazaar.” In November 2015, Killid reported that ALP men arrested and killed a well-digger, Shah Wali, from the Taleban-controlled village of Mehman, near an ALP post in the Kajera area and then ran their Ranger vehicle over his body.

As for uprising forces, UNAMA devoted a whole section of its 2014 protection of civilians report to those in Ghazni. (It analysed ALP nationally and in a separate section.) It reported “an incident of collective punishment and alleged crimes involving more than 40 civilians that involved severe beatings, including with metal chains” which had been carried out in January 2014 in Andar. Al-Jazeera detailed the alleged killing of three people in Andar in June 2014 by an uprising commander, Abdullah. The allegations were given weight by then head of the United Nations human rights unit in Afghanistan, Georgette Gagnon, saying they had “investigated and verified allegations of extrajudicial killings of three men by a pro-government militia.” According to al-Jazeera, US Special Operations forces and Afghan National Army commandos had carried out a night raid on Alizai village on 1 June and detained about a hundred men from the village in a compound. Late on the following morning, it said, a mix of uprisers and ALP commanded by Abdullah came by. They returned that afternoon and took away three of the detainees who were later shot. Al-Jazeera quoted Abdullah saying, “‘[I]t was a raid and I caught them… If anyone is saying these were civilians, that person is pro-Taliban, a Talib himself, or is spreading Pakistani propaganda.’”The following year, The New York Times reported on a father accusing one of Abdullah’s sub-commanders of having killed his son, a 13 or 14 years old, in January 2015 after questioning him about roadside bombs. Abdullah was quoted by the paper calling the US special forces “my brothers.”

Locals did complain. Abusive behaviour towards the residents of newly captured villages in early 2013 prompted a rare demonstration by hundreds of residents of Andar and the adjacent Deh Yak district (where the first squad of 50 ALP had been deployed) on 16 March against “the arbaki”. “The people of these districts,” we wrote had “probably never publicly protested against local actors before. The lack of a culture of demonstrating and local disunity makes it difficult for them to even think of coming together for such an untraditional action and yet they did.” In 2014, residents of Gelan district managed to get one abusive uprising commander removed, reported UNAMA, “following interventions with Afghan national security forces and Government authorities.” It observed, however, that “the removal did not improve civilian protection.” In 2016, Andar women went to Ghazni city to protest (see a video here against the abusive behaviour of arbaki who, they said, were forcefully breaking into homes and abusing women. They said they were fed up with this behaviour. However, little, if anything, was ever done.

Command and control of ALP and uprisers

Both the ALP and uprisers were abusive towards at least some members of the local population. Trying to judge if one group was worse than the other is difficult. People in Andar do not differentiate between the different types of ‘arbaki’, and there is also not enough publically available data on abuses from sources like UNAMA to properly assess. On paper, the ALP should have had better command and control, given that the force had a legal underpinning, clear official lines of command from district and provincial police chiefs and a mechanism in the Ministry of Interior for dealing with ALP infractions. According to the ethos of the programme, ALP units should also have come under community control.

By contrast, there is no basis in Afghan law for the existence of uprising groups and it has never even been clear who they answer to in practice. The Andar uprisers’ patrons, primarily the NDS and US special forces (both themselves less transparent and less accountable than the ANP or the regular US military), supplied them with weapons and funding. However, UNAMA said, in 2014, the uprisers in Ghazni province had perpetrated crimes against the civilian population with impunity. The government, it said, had undertaken “no investigations or remedial efforts.” In the same report, assessing measures undertaken by the Ministry of Interior to investigate and prosecute wrongdoing by the ALP nationally, it said these had improved marginally and from a very low level (nationally, the crimes the MoI had investigated ranged from murder and arbitrary detention to illegal search operations, forced evictions, extortion and mistreatment. (10)

Dearing thinks the ALP was less abusive than the uprising forces and puts this down to better control from both the community and Ministry of Interior, although he provides little evidence for this in his writing. (11) In conversation, he argued that there was a freedom that came from being a member of the uprising force:

They could be a little more brutal and predatory, more than the ALP was allowed to be. Uprisers could do what they wanted and still get resources and funding from the NDS. American and Afghan special forces and NDS could always go to uprisers for clearing and offensive operations… The ability of those forces to not hold them account, to look the other way was certainly there. That’s why you use these types of militias and paramilitaries, partly because they are cheaper and partly because they are not attached to you, but they do your bidding to a certain extent. It’s a dangerous game. We could always turn our backs and say, ‘We don’t control them.’

Dearing takes this subject onto a new and important theme – how tight discipline and protection of the civilian population may actually notbe in the core interests of a patron, or at least not interesting enough for the patron to try to deal with. The uprisers, Dearing writes, were able to bring their “unique intelligence capabilities” to bear primarily because they “resided outside the chain of command.” Indeed, the support given by patrons to the uprisers to act as a covert counterinsurgency force gave them “greater latitude to operate with impunity.”

After 2014 – The Taleban gain territory

From 2014 onwards, it was the Taleban who saw military gains in Andar. The onslaught from them on the Andar ALP between 2012 and 2014 had succeeded in breaking the momentum of the counter-insurgency and the government began to lose territory, sometimes one or two villages at a time, sometimes many more. In February 2016, for example, they lost the villages of Khar, Karpal, Sanginaka, Mahkam, Rustam and Manar all at once. This change in fortune also coincided with the ANSF taking responsibility for security as international forces withdrew.

ALP and uprisers themselves blame government negligence for their decline. For example, in this opinion piece written by a leading member of the uprising force under a pseudonym on 5 August 2013, the author says lack of state support was undermining their ability to fight, to recruit and attract the population to their cause. Four years later, ALP demonstrating in Ghazni city in January 2017 told Pajhwok that, “The Afghan government promised us money and weapons, but provided us nothing.” There was no significant ANP and ANA deployment to the villages under threat. In the face of Taleban violence, militiamen had no sense that the government was protecting their backs.

As a forthcoming dispatch on Taleban attitudes to the ALP will detail, the movement’s tactics also changed around 2014. Although the Taleban military campaign against the militias in Andar continued, they were no longer regarded as their most important enemy. The insurgents started to use a more ‘softly softly’ approach in Andar and elsewhere, trying to persuade ALP men to switch sides, offering amnesties and trying to address the grievances of communities which may have supported the ALP.

Significantly, the Taleban have not undertaken acts of reprisal against those living in re-captured villages.That pragmatic approach has extended even to former ALP members and their families who sought amnesties and chose to stay in their areas. For example, according to businessmen speaking to AAN in 2017, when Taleban fighters detained two former ALP men, they let them go after a few days. Even though active ALP and uprisers remained targets, we also saw in 2016 the Taleban handing over the body of an ALP man whom they had killed after forcing him from his car on the Kabul-Kandahar highway. Such behaviour would have been unimaginable at the height of ALP-Taleban hostilities. Andar went to the brink of an abyss in terms of the ferocity of intra-tribal violence. It seems that for now, at least, the Taleban have realised that better behaviour towards local people, including those who went over to the other side, can be militarily useful to their campaign in the short-run – for winning back territory – and thelong-run – keeping that territory.

As the ALP and uprisers in Andar were gradually pushed back, their numbers also dwindled. In early 2017, then ALP commander Baz Muhammad said there were still 50 or so ALP and uprisers. About a dozen defected or surrendered to the Taleban in the autumn of 2017. Others went to Ghazni city or Paktia or Khost provinces where they started businesses. By October 2017, none of the original group of uprisers or ALP were left. The only serving ALP in the district were Shinwaris, drafted in from Nangrahar province (an exception to ALP regulations); this was reported by locals and confirmed to AAN by an official from the Ministry of Interior, who asked not to be named, and said it had been necessary because “locals aren’t interested in serving.”(12) These ALP men are holding a couple of security posts on the road leading to the Chahardiwal area which houses the ANA base.

Baz Muhammad, who ended up commanding most of the remaining uprisers,himself finally left the ranksout of frustration with the formidability of the task of ensuring security in a difficult area, and because of the lack of popular support. The ALP and uprisers, he told AAN, found themselves increasingly surrounded by the enemy and trying to operate in a terrain in which the population – after experiencing different types of armed actors – had lost interest in actively supporting any brand of people under arms. Baz Muhammad joined the ANP in February 2018 and was assassinated at his post earlier this month. (13)

Assessing the Andar uprising and the ALP

The uprising in Andar district failed to hold the territory it captured. In terms of the human cost, according to provincial council member and brother of an early ALP commander, Amanullah Kamranai, more than 700 uprisersand ALP men have been killed since 2012. An unknown number of civilians, ANSF and Taleban also died in the violence, which was particularly intense between 2012 and 2014.

Several themes emerge from the arc of failure in Andar. First, changes in the battlefield in Afghanistan can be rapid and unexpected. Winning over local civilians appears to be one crucial means of making gains long-lasting. In insurgencies, the support of civilians can tip the balance between warring parties, for example, if they chose to give – or withhold – tip-offs and intelligence. By the end of summer 2012, abusive behaviour by uprisers, the mercenary behaviour of local politicians, and probably, as well, the local forces’ alliance with foreign forces, was already limiting their potential support from local communities. Whether a popularly-based ALP could have been established then is unknown: the force that was stood up was created without consulting or involving local communities. Nevertheless, the ALP and uprisers could still manage to draw on the support of part of the community because of the importance of extended family networks and this made them a threat to the Taleban – as we wrote in October 2013:

If the Taleban had been an external force without indigenous roots, they would have easily been swept out of the district by such a powerful local militia. However, the Taleban have established support among a considerable segment of the society and it is this entire segment of society which has found itself the enemy of the ALP. At the same time, the ALP also has local support and those within the community who are or are perceived to be ALP-aligned now find themselves the target of the Taleban. The result has been relentless bloodshed perpetrated by both sides and a polarisation within the Andar tribe.

That last sentence is also important. A second theme emerging from events in Andar is that introducing a local element into a counter-insurgency is risky, in terms of the prospects both for stabilisation and protecting the population. Although the ALP and uprisers fought hard against the Taleban, they never managed to get enough local support to become the dominant force in Andar, which meant their presenceworsened the violence and reduced protection for civilians. The consequence was an intensification of the conflict, and, ultimately, no clear counter-insurgency win. Indeed, the situation eventually reverted, after a lot of blood was shed, to the status quo ante.

Inserting a local counter-insurgent force also localised the conflict to a much greater degree, producing a more brutal and intimate type of violence, something likely to be more pernicious and de-stabilising in the long-term. Before the 2012 uprising, the war in Andar had mainly been fought out between Taleban with a local recruitment base and foreign soldiers, with some Afghan ANSF. After the summer of 2012, it was Andar versus Andar. Those fighting knew each other and each others’ families and the conflict was fought out in their own villages and over their own lands.At the height of the struggle between the Taleban and the militias, the level and nature of the violence was worse than anything seen before, even under the ruthless rule of Qari Baba. The arming of two sections of the community – Taleban and uprisers/ALP – poisoned intra-tribal relations among the Andar and led to extreme acts of reprisal. That Taleban have not carried out revenge attacks in re-conquered villages in Andar – presumably for pragmatic reasons – can only be seen as fortunate.

The local nature of forces such as the Andar ALP and uprising group is what makes them attractive to various patrons, both Afghan and international. They bring tactical advantages – local knowledge of the terrain and the community, and clan and family networks. In the case of Andar, in the early years of the uprising, these paid dividends in terms of territory taken. Raising local forces may therefore be good for those planning the counter-insurgency, while having bitter consequences for the community. In Andar, regardless of whether the ALP or uprisers had managed to retain the territory they won, the long-terms harm of raising local militias was clear from very early on.

Finally, although the ALP and uprisers were ‘advertised’ as community defence forces, the communities did not control them. There was very little evidence, either, of any proper accountability of uprisers (by the NDS) or ALP (by the Ministry of Interior), or by US special forces of either. The indiscipline of these militia forces cost civilians dear, in terms of greater insecurity and criminality. Such indiscipline may have seemed a reasonable price to pay by patrons wanting a robust and dependable counter-insurgency ally against the Taleban, which they could hold at ‘arm’s length’. However, that predatory behaviour ate away at civilian support, ultimately weakening the force. Even though the ALP and uprisers could count on some backing from some of the community, it was never going to be enough to enable them to hold territory, however well they fought, if they also abused the citizenry.

That the Andar experience of ‘community defence forces’ is not inevitable can be seen by looking at what happened in Yahyakhel district in neighbouring Paktika provinces. The establishment of the ALP there sheds light on how it is possible to stand up a good local force, which both protects civilians and reduces violence, a force that is seen as legitimate by the ‘host’ community. This will be explored in a forthcoming second dispatch.

Edited by Erica Gaston

* This research for this dispatch is part of a joint, three-year project by AAN, the Global Public Policy institute (GPPi) and the American University of Iraq, Sulaimani. The project explores the role and impact of militias, local or regional defence forces and other quasi-state forces in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria, including mechanisms for foreign assistance to such actors. Funding is provided by the Netherlands Research Organisation.

(1) For AAN’s earlier dispatches on the ‘Andar Uprising’, see:

“AAN Reportage: Who Fights Whom in the Andar Uprising” 10 August 2012,
“AAN Reportage (2): The Andar Uprising – has the tied already turned?” (3 September 2012),
“Guest Blog: the Andar Uprising – Co-opted, divided and stuck in a dilemma” 30 October 2012,
“The Morphing of the Andar Uprising: Transition to Afghan Local Police” 2 April 2013,
“Killing Mullahs and Wedding Guests, Banning Last Rites: the Worsening of the Andar Conflict”, 6 November 2013,
“Finding Business Opportunity in Conflict: Shopkeepers, Taleban and the political economy of Andar District”, 2 December 2015,

(2) A more detailed account of the battle is as follows:

On 17 October, a Taleban suicide bomber blew his vehicle up near the district compound, leaving the way open for about 30 Taleban to attack on foot; their numbers swelled to 300 the following day. There was a three-day siege, with the district headquarters defended, District governor Muhammad Qassim Disiwal told AAN, by about 60 ANP and ANA. The Taleban blocked the three main routes which the government could have used for sending reinforcements. Two of the roads were mostly passing through Taleban-controlled areas that are located in the northern and western parts of Mirai, while on the third road which connects Mirai to the closest ANA base, in Chardiwal, and then onto Paktika to the east, Taleban fighters set up ambushes near Sultanbagh town, as well as near Ghazni city in the Urzu area. The siege was only broken by ANSF reinforcements, including ANA commandos and intensive air strikes by US forces, starting from late night on the evening on 19 October, 2017. According to villagers near the district centre, the Taleban started to retreat after suffering casualties from the airstrikes.

As well as the seventy or so people killed or wounded, Andar district centre’s infrastructure was left badly destroyed in the latest Taleban onslaught. A newer concrete building in the administration withstood the explosion, but a second, older, mud-built building was left mostly destroyed. Six shops in the Mirai Bazaar also caught fire because of Taleban shelling and burned to the ground. IEDs laid by the Taleban on the road to Chardiwal left the main asphalted road to Paktika damaged in three places near Salam Gudali village. The ANP who fell back to defend the district centre never re-took those checkpoints and the government lost some of the last villages it had controlled.

(3) Our best estimate of the casualties is 46 killed and 31 injured. Conflicting information has been provided by Afghan officials about the number of ANSF, Taleban and civilian casualties, ranging between 20 and 60 fatalities. The father of two ANP who were killed was allowed to enter the district building after sunrise on 17 October to look for their bodies and was reported as saying he saw the bodies of more than a dozen security forces lying on the ground. Officials in Ghazni told a BBC Pashto reporter that 30 people including 25 security forces, mostly Afghan National Police (ANP), and five civilians had been killed. However, a Provincial Council member Abdul Jami Jami told the BBC that 35 security forces were killed. Meanwhile, district governor Disiwal told AAN that ten security forces were killed, another 24 were wounded, ten of them with fatal injuries.

As for the Taleban, local businessmen in the district told AAN that the airstrike had killed 16 of their fighters. However, government officials claimed that more than 90 Taleban fighters were killed, while breaking the siege and in the air bombing that happened after the siege. Taleban spokesman Zabihullah Mujahid told Pajhwok that only seven of their fighters had been killed and as many wounded in the three-day siege.

(4) Asadullah Khaled, who is from Ghazni, had been the Minister of Tribal and Border Affairs when the uprising started. In September 2012, he became director of the National Directorate of Security (NDS). He enjoyed a pre-2001 working relationship with the CIA, a close relationship subsequently also with the US military and the Karzais, and a well-deserved reputation as a torturer (read his biography here.)

(5) Matthew P Dearing is now director of the South and Central Asia Security Studies Programme at the College of International Security Affairs. His analysis of Andar’s ALP and uprising force was published in 2017 by the journal, Small Wars and Insurgencies, “A double-edged sword: the people’s uprising in Ghazni, Afghanistan,” (28:3, 576-608, 10.1080/09592318.2017.1307611) (unfortunately, it cannot be read for free).

(6) Responsibility for security was transferred from the NATO ISAF mission to the ANSF in Andar in the fourth tranche of Transition (Enteqal), announced on 31 December 2012. The fifth and final tranche of Transition was announced on 18 June 2013. This NATO map shows when districts and provinces were transitioned.)

(7) A local businessman named some of those present: Haji Mirza a tribal elder from Qadamkhel, another elder Muhammad Raza from Mullah Muhammad Gudali, a religious figure Mawlawi Ibrahim from Mir Hazar, Mir Ahmad from Ghundi, and Nur ul-Haq Akhundzada from Gandaher (Mir Ahmad and Nur ul-Haq Akhundzada were later killed by Taleban). The only man at the ceremony not to join the ALP, he said, was Haji Wazir from Akal. Another person there, 33 year old Baz Muhammad Khaksar, had been a member of the uprising groupfrom the first. He named some other elders whom he said also participated in the gathering: commander Fatah from Alamkhel, Haji Zahir from Ghundi and 85 year old Haji Amin from Mahkam. All three were later killed by the Taleban, Fatah and Haji Zahir in their houses and Haji Amin outside his village mosque one evening in the month of Ramadan. Baz Muhammad said all three had been prior sympathizers with the uprisersand supported their ‘upgrade’ to ALP.

(8) The estimate was from MP Khial Hussaini, reported here. It counts only the Andar dead and includes combatants. It excludes police, army, Taleban or Hezb-e Islami from other districts who were killed. UNAMA documented 45 civilian casualties (deaths and injuries) in 2012, in Andar as well as 20 ALP and uprising combatants.

(9) The Taleban also carried out a number of ‘preemptive’ assassinations in 2012 of former Qari Baba sub-commanders who could have been persuaded to lead the new pro-government militias. For example, they killed Haji Muhammad from Bagha village and Ashraf Khan from Sher Qala village. Both men were previously with Qari Baba.

(10) UNAMA wrote:

In 2014, the ALP Monitoring and Investigations section of the ALP Directorate investigated 68 accounts of ALP-related human rights violations, including murder, extortion and mistreatment, arbitrary detention, illegal search operations, extortion of “taxes” and forced eviction. Officials in the ALP Directorate reported that the investigations led to 64 arrests and four convictions – the highest number of ALP convictions recorded. UNAMA also noted an improvement in the Ministry of Interior’s case tracking through its new documentation and reporting on the number of prosecutions and convictions resulting from ALP investigations.

(11) The Uprisers turned predatory, Dearing wrote, but ALP “could be considered a relatively protective organisation.” He thinks command and control of the ALP largely worked: “When patrons and the community engaged in complementary governance over the paramilitary group, in this case through the ALP, paramilitary behavior was protection of the civilian population. However, when patrons and communities failed to provide complementary governance, as the case of the remaining Uprising force after ALP institutionalization, the paramilitaries engaged in predation of the local population.”

(12) The Ministry of Interior official said that 32 Shinwari were present in Andar (out of a tashkil of 50). According to current regulations, as the ALP is a defensive force, checkpoints should be no more than one kilometre away from local policemen’s villages. ALP should not be deployed away except under the express orders of the Provincial Police Chief (this happened during the defence of Kunduz in 2015, and Lashkargah in 2016, for example). Deployment to another province and not even a neighbouring one and for routine, rather than emergency duty is far beyond ALP procedures.

(13) Baz Muhammad, his brother told AAN, he joined the ANP in February 2018 and was deployed to Gilan district where he was the commander of four checkposts. On 1 April 2018, an informant asked him to come to a village near his security post, but when Baz Muhammad arrived, Taleban fighters were waiting. They tried to kidnap him, but he fought back, said his brother and, along with two other ANP, was killed.

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

The State of Aid and Poverty in 2018: A new look at aid effectiveness in Afghanistan

Thu, 17/05/2018 - 04:00

Two new reports have found that despite improvements in some sectors, aid delivery in Afghanistan is still largely ineffective and poverty has risen. A joint Oxfam and Swedish Committee for Afghanistan (SCA) report on aid effectiveness reveals that while development aid has decreased, donor support continues to be fragmented and aid dependency remains high. Meanwhile, Afghanistan’s new Living Conditions Survey shows that poverty is more widespread today than it was immediately after the fall of the Taleban regime. AAN’s Jelena Bjelica and Thomas Ruttig summarise, contextualise and analyse the reports’ findings.

A new joint report by Oxfam and the Swedish Committee for Afghanistan (SCA) entitled “Aid Effectiveness in Afghanistan” (1) assessed efforts by both donors and the Afghan government to align with criteria provided by the 2005 Paris Declaration on aid effectiveness and builds on a 2008 Oxfam report on aid effectiveness. (2) The report – which was informed by a comprehensive review of the ministries’ and other government institutions’ primary data as well as interviews with key-informants among government, donors, development partners and civil society – comes to the conclusion that the continuing “fragmentation” of aid provided in many sectors still “leads to ineffective aid.” The report states that:

There are over 30 different international donors disbursing aid in Afghanistan, each with their own agenda and aid agreement with the government, and effective donor coordination and harmonisation is not a practice adopted universally […] Yet there are still major issues of fragmentation, with donors bypassing government systems in multiple areas of the development sector, and it is this fragmentation that leads to ineffective aid.

The 2008 Oxfam study had already uncovered worrying facts and figures about how ineffectively aid in Afghanistan had been disbursed and spent in the period from 2001 to 2008. The report revealed that over two-thirds of the aid – then around 20 billion USD in total – bypassed the Afghan government. Donors justified this practice by pointing to the endemically corrupt Afghan system, arguing that channelling money through government and non-governmental organisations guaranteed better financial accountability. This argument was bolstered by the findings in the report that the Afghan government did not know how the remaining third of the aid, which was around five billion USD, had been spent, due to a lack of internal communication and coordination.

The 2008 report also found that “over half of aid is tied, requiring the procurement of donor-country goods and services.” Furthermore, it pointed out that large sums of development money was siphoned off, particularly through reconstruction contracts “for international and Afghan contractor companies,” where profit margins were “often 20 per cent and can be as high as 50 per cent.” It also criticised the exaggerated salaries of “most full time, expatriate consultants, working in private consulting companies, [who] cost 250,000–500,000 USD a year.” It estimated that 40 per cent of aid since 2001 – around six billion USD – had returned to donor countries in corporate profits and consultant salaries, effectively turning aid into donor countries’ export promotion. A World Bank report published in the same year stated that spending “on” Afghanistan did not equal spending “in” Afghanistan, and that “only 38 cents of every aid dollar spent in Afghanistan actually reaches the economy through direct salary payments, household transfers, or purchase of local goods and services.” (More in this AAN analysis)

What does the new Oxfam/SCA report say in detail?

Around 66 per cent of Afghanistan’s budget in the financial year of 1396 (March 2017-February 2018) was funded through international donor support, according to the Oxfam/SCA report. Only 33 per cent came from domestic revenues, even though revenue has tripled over the last ten years, from around USD 750 million in 2008/09 to USD 2.5 billion in 2017/18. These figures reflect a continuing high level of aid dependency. (3) Additionally, the report said (with reference to a 2016 Afghan government update through the Self-Reliance Through Mutual Accountability Framework (SMAF) that 59 per cent of development aid provided by the international community had gone through the government’s core budget that year. But this percentage fluctuates on a yearly basis: in 2015, for example, of 3.73 billion USD disbursed, around 40 per cent was provided through the budget (see here).

The funds Afghanistan receives are mainly channelled through donor-run projects as well as trust funds, which are usually designed as multi-year endeavours and managed by donors. For example, for a major aid investment such as the Afghan Reconstruction Trust Fund (ARTF), although it is a fully ‘on-budget’ programme, programmatic decisions are still made by the World Bank. This is strongly influenced by donors’ investment choices and restricts governmentownership of the ARTF, as the Swedish government’s development agency SIDA reported in a 2015 evaluation (http://www.sida.se/contentassets/72dc94b2318644e9b70242b037660cfd/7a6d0a72-27e6-4bad-b17d-a44c1028ae45.pdf). This approach to budgeting, however, has resulted in the ‘over-aiding’ of the country by allocating more funds than needed for the multi-year cycles. This was also highlighted by the 2016 Afghan Ministry of Finance annual performance assessment report.

The fragmentation of aid is reflected by the fact that funds for the 6.659 billion USD Afghan government budget for 2017/8 were provided by over 30 different international donors. (4) The Oxfam/SCA report stated that each donor maintains its own agenda based on separate aid agreements with the government and highlighted that donors mainly choose to fund areas that appeal to their constituents back home:

With the government largely only able to influence where the money goes, donors are free to fund areas that are appealing to their constituents back home. Therefore, when it comes to the National Priority Programs, where the government has a clear plan for what they would like funded, donors have been known to compete for the most attractive projects, with other development areas neglected if they do not appeal.

In conclusion to its extensive analysis about whether the Afghan government and the international community have met their aid effectiveness commitments pledged in the past four international conferences on Afghanistan (Kabul 2010, Tokyo 2012, London 2014, Brussels 2016), the report reiterated the same finding: development support continues to be fragmented. However, it commended the efforts made by the Afghan government and the donor community to better align and coordinate aid, with the development of national priority programmes (NPPs) and the strengthening of the Joint Coordination Monitoring Board (JCMB), and noticed that in some sectors, however, donors do coordinate well. Mechanisms such as the Afghan Reconstruction Trust Fund (ARTF) and the Afghan Infrastructure Trust Fund (AITF) are given as examples of this “harmonised approach.” SIGAR’s new report on the ARTF, however, disagreed with this Oxfam/SCA finding. According to SIGAR, the World Bank, which manages the fund, “restricts donor and public access to how it monitors and accounts for ARTF funding, leaving donors, and their taxpayers, without important information necessary to understand the activities they fund.” The SIGAR report also states, “the Bank is not following its own policy to provide donors and the public access to ARTF records that should be publicly available.”The World Bank press release in response to the SIGAR report called “most of the findings […] somewhat anecdotal.” Nevertheless, both the SIGAR and Oxfam/SCA report, while they contradict each other on this particular topic, point to poor management, coordination and monitoring of development aid money in Afghanistan. While the Oxfam/SCA report notes this is the case in general for all development aid provided, the SIGAR report states the same for a specific trust fund. Both reports also note that the lack of transparency further exacerbates the unaccountability of development aid funding in the country.

According to the Oxfam/SCA report, the area that has received most financial support is social infrastructure and services, with over 14 billion USD from 2011 to 2015. This is followed by economic infrastructure and services (4 billion USD), humanitarian aid (2 billion USD), and production sector support (1.6 billion USD). It further offers a detailed overview and effectiveness assessment of the projects funded in each of the above-mentioned sectors.

It also found that in 2014 the majority (58.7 per cent) of donor financed ‘off-budget’ projects were below one million USD, and nearly a third between one and ten million USD. “By contrast,” the report stated, “more than a quarter of ‘on-budget’ projects in 2014 were in the 10-50 million USD category and only 21.7 per cent of on-budget projects were less than 1 million USD.” This, according to the report, means that donor support is more fragmented when provided off-budget:

The implementation of a large number of small projects, involving a large number of implementing agencies, despite existing coordination mechanisms, can lead to increased transaction costs for both donor agencies and the Government. Donors may decide to deliver aid this way to reduce their reputational risk, however it can actually increase their fiduciary risk with more resources needed to keep an eye on multiple projects, and eventually increase the long-term development risk as government ownership of this type of development approach remains limited.

It is also evident from the now publicly available and searchable Afghan annual budgets, that the government annual budgets are structured around projects (see here)and not, for example, on sub-national units like provinces or districts.

Additionally, the report states, “a decreased appetite for risk, due to the deteriorating security situation,” the report said, “impacts on their ability to coordinate […] on their ability to share information and agree to common efforts for development advocacy and planning.” This inevitably impacts national development priorities as set out by the government, and often means donors are unable to fund projects in large parts of the country. A development worker who wished to remain unnamed, told AAN that around 40 per cent of the country was not privy to donor funds. This further widens the gap between rich and poor, increasing inequality in society, as mentioned above. A lack of donor coordination and an uneven distribution of donor funds, as well as favouritism of certain projects have contributed to an increase in anti-government sentiments in some parts of the country.

The report does not adequately address the question of the extent to which aid spent by the Afghan government and the international community has been effective (or spent on intended purposes). In the report’s analysis of projects, it is unclear whether they were funded by the government or directly by donors.

What budgeting has to do with aid effectiveness

According to financial experts, the aid channelled through donor-run projects and trust funds almost never uses policy-based budgeting techniques (see here; see also the explanation about ARTF, above), ie the funding associated with these projects lacks the precise identification of public policy objectives, delineation of the means and resources for accomplishing them and an accurate assessment of accomplishments. The funds channelled through projects are linked to “results targets” and “log frames,” the set of qualitative and quantitative measurements that are set in project management paradigms and not budgeting and fiscal accountability paradigms, which should be the case when it comes to state-level budgeting. This, in practice, translates into what the 2008 Oxfam report described as:

[…] A large proportion of aid has been prescriptive and supply-driven, rather than indigenous and responding to Afghan needs. [… Aid] has tended to reflect expectations in donor countries, and what western electorates would consider reconstruction and development achievements, rather than what Afghan communities want and need. Projects have too often sought to impose a preconceived idea of progress, rather than nurture, support and expand capabilities, according to Afghan preferences.

The 2008 Oxfam report highlighted that,according to the 2006 Paris Declaration Survey, only 52 per cent of development aid allocated to Afghanistan during the early years of the intervention had been disbursed “in agreement with the government.” This estimate included all funds provided – both to the core budget and for projects where there was a signed agreement or memorandum of understanding with a ministry or government agency. In the period from 2012 to 2014, according to the Afghan government donor coordination report quoted in the 2018 Oxfam/SCA report, only 4.4 billion USD of development assistance were considered to be aligned with national priority programmes; the remaining 8.4 billion USD were considered counter to estimated needs and priorities. (See also the 2016 Ministry of Finance annual performance assessment).

Over the years, this approach also increased incentives to so-called auction-based budgeting (see here). This, in practice, means that annual budgets in Afghanistan are designed in an auction-like process. This happened most recently in 2017 when the Afghan annual budget was only passed by parliament after the Ministry of Finance agreed to allow each MP to have ‘their’ projects included in the budget (see AAN analysis here). (5) The process of auction-based budgeting, nevertheless, is where the largest incidents of misallocation, mismanagement, and outright corruption usually take place, experts say. The amount of rents, experts estimate, that can be lost through the auction process can be as high as 20 to 40 percent of a budget.

Many reports on Afghanistan reflect exactly this: that a considerable amount of donor funding to Afghanistan has been misappropriated through corruption or misallocation, despite both donor and government efforts to create accountability and transparency mechanisms (see here). A 2016 report entitled “Corruption in conflict: Lessons for the U.S. experience in Afghanistan” from the US government’s Special Inspector General for Afghanistan Reconstruction (SIGAR), for example, strongly criticised its own government for pouring billions of dollars into Afghanistan with so little oversight that it fuelled a culture of “rampant corruption” and undermined the US mission (see also here and here). (6)

Dropping aid levels

The Oxfam/SCA report also provides an overview and analysis of development and humanitarian aid to Afghanistan during the period 2010 to 2015 that equalled 34.3 billion USD. This is part of a total of development aid assistance, between 2001 and 2016, of over 71 billion US dollars in commitments – and slightly over 61 billion US dollars in actual disbursements, according to the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) (see dataset here). The main donors were the US, UK, EU, Japan, Germany, the Nordic countries, Australia and multilateral institutions such as the World Bank and the Asian Development Bank.

Kabul-based financial experts who prefered to remain anonymous estimate that the country received more than double that amount in military support over the same period; the exact figure is not in the public domain. (7) Recent figures on US spending alone seem to confirm this ratio. According to a 2018 report entitled “Afghanistan: Background and U.S. Policy In Brief”:

… Congress has appropriated more than $126 billion in aid for Afghanistan since [financial year] 2002, with about 63% for security and 28% for development (and the remainder for civilian operations, mostly budgetary assistance, and humanitarian aid).

But aid levels to Afghanistan have fluctuated since 2001. After years of a slow rise, the aid total peaked in 2011, only to decrease significantly afterwards (see here). According to the Oxfam/SCA report, Afghanistan received 6.867 billion USD in 2011, compared to 4.239 billion in 2015(see figure 1 below). The World Bank estimated a decline from an annual average of 12.5 billion USD between 2009 and 2012 to around 8.8 billion USD in 2015. As indicated in this dispatch, records on development aid for Afghanistan vary from source to source.

Figure 1: Development aid disbursed by international community from 2010-2015 (World Bank). Table made by Oxfam/SCA report.

The Oxfam/SCA report also pointed out discrepancies in the reported amounts of development aid for Afghanistan:

In its report, the Ministry of Finance states that Afghanistan received a total of USD 12.9 billion in development assistance in the period 2012-2014, which is less than a figure of 16.8 USD billion reported by the World Bank for the same period. […] The challenge to obtain accurate data on how much development aid has been received from 2010-2106 points to a lack of transparency and coordination within the aid sector of Afghanistan where clear financial data is not readily available, and agreed upon.

The report, in addition, highlights that aid disbursements have been far lower than the pledges. But this is hardly news, as the same finding came out of the 2008 Oxfam report, which said that “donors are far quicker to make promises than to report on disbursements and shortfalls.” In the period 2002 to 2008, out of 25 billion USD committed, Afghanistan actually received less than two-thirds, or around 15 billion USD for development and reconstruction, the 2008 report found. (In the same period Afghanistan received an additional 5 billion USD for the government.)

The new joint Oxfam/SCA report, however, says that there has been some improvement in the ratio between commitment and disbursement. According to the Afghan Government’s Central Statistics Organisation (AGCSO) data, the report noted “the international community has been improving since 2009/10 when only 31 per cent of pledged funding was disbursed, to 2016/17 when 71 per cent of what it had pledged was disbursed.” This point was also reiterated in an earlier International Crisis Group report, which said that between 2001 and 2011, 57 billion dollars of aid money had been spent in Afghanistan against 90 billion pledged (see this AAN analysis).

Changed aid paradigm: Development now for development’s sake?

Another factor that has influenced aid fluctuations is that ten years after the 2008 Oxfam report, the donor landscape in Afghanistan as well as the dominant development paradigm has changed. Some of the major aid actors, ie the international military, which distributed the lion’s share of development and humanitarian aid through its Provincial Reconstruction Teams (PRTs), have almost completely disappeared. The PRT Commanders Emergency Response Program (CERP) set up by the US, for example, spent about 1.5 billion USD alone between 2004 and 2011. But this high spending contributed little to the desired outcome of stabilisation, which had been the dominant development paradigm up until then.

As noted in 2009 by Andrew Wilder, “given the centrality to the counterinsurgency (COIN) strategy of the assumption that aid is an important stabilization tool, and the billions of development dollars allocated based on this assumption, there is surprisingly limited evidence from Afghanistan that supports it.” Wilder also noted that despite the amount of money spent, “Afghan perceptions of aid and aid actors had been overwhelmingly negative” (see also this Tufts University study on PRT in Helmand here). In contrast to the 2008 Oxfam recommendation to increase development aid to Afghanistan at the expense of military support, donor support to development and humanitarian needs has decreased over the years.

Aid dependency still high

Afghanistan’s aid dependency rate, meanwhile, remained extremely high. Between 2005 and 2011, it averaged 76 per cent of the country’s GDP (see here). This means that over that period Afghanistan’s aid dependency was more than three times higher than the rule of thumb proposed for optimal aid levels for a functioning, sovereign state by the Washington-based Institute for State Effectiveness, at around 20 per cent of GDP (see here). According to the World Bank, this rate decreased to 45 per cent in 2017, still more than double the recommended rate.

In short, the country has been swamped with money since 2001, which has driven its heavy dependence on development aid to new levels. Between 1977 (the last full year of the Republic) and 1988 (the last full year of Soviet troop presence), foreign (mainly Soviet) aid roughly covered between one fourth and one third of state expenditures, according to a 2007 Canadian study (see here).

Rising poverty as a key outcome?

Another trend becomes apparent when reading the Oxfam/SCA report and the Afghanistan Living Conditions Survey released on 2 May 2018 by the Central Statistics Organization (CSO) in cooperation with the Afghan Ministry of Economy and the World Bank (see here): that the large amounts of aid disbursed since 2001 have not reduced poverty in Afghanistan. This is nothing but a result of continuing ineffectiveness. While the rate of Afghans living in poverty was lowered from the 2003 World Bank’s baseline of 51.4 per cent of the population in 2003 – ie during the immediate post-Taleban era, when aid flows were still moderate – (see here) to around 34 per cent in 2007/08, these gains were subsequently lost again. The paradigm shift around 2011 – which should have been in the right direction, making development the paradigm instead of stabilisation – was accompanied by a slump in aid money alongside the gradual withdrawal of foreign troops, the transition (‘handover of responsibility’) and the Afghan government’s paradigm of going from transition to ‘transformation’. This seems to have resulted in a higher poverty rate, once again. It increased to around 38 per cent in 2011/12, which was, until recently, the last official CSO figure (see here). (8) It is now 54.5 per cent. In fact, this is even higher than the 2003 figure in the immediate post-Taleban period. During the Taleban regime, international aid was as low as 564 million USD for the entire period between 1995 and 2000, according to the OECD data set already quoted above. This, combined with the non-policies of the Taleban, led to widespread impoverishment.

In 2015, the Afghan Ministry of Economy explained the lack of poverty reduction in spite of growing development assistance in its Afghanistan Poverty Status Update by an increase in inequality, measured by the Gini index. (9) According to the document, this index in Afghanistan increased from 29.7 per cent in 2007/08 to 31.6 in 2011/12, when the country received the highest amount of development aid (see figures 2 and 3). It stated, “Had Afghanistan’s economic growth been more widely shared, poverty could have declined by as much as 4.4 percentage points.” That the Gini index had decreased by 2016/17 (despite an increase in poverty) does not mean, however, that growth was being shared more widely or more equally. It is a statistical phenomenon resulting from an almost 20 per cent increase in the poverty rate.

Figure 2: Data downloaded from the Central Statistics Organization (CSO) dashboard. Table made by AAN.

Figure 3: Data downloaded from the Central Statistics Organization (CSO) dashboard. Table made by AAN.

A possible way forward

It is expected that at the Geneva donor conference in November this year, the 2016 Brussels conference commitments will go through a mid-term review. It also means that a new set of indicators and targets could be designed to measure Afghanistan’s progress towards self-reliance. At the same time the question remains open as to who will measure how donors align themselves with the 2005 Paris Declaration and how they will deliver on their financial promises. The non-governmental Oxfam/SCA report may be a good example of an exercise in self-scrutiny, but there is still a lot to be done by other actors, too, particularly among governments. Part of the problem concerns Afghanistan’s chronic corruption and points to a lack of statesmanship among the country’s political élite. They see power as a way of accessing ‘rent-seeking’ while proving unable to address the large and rising portion of their fellow Afghans languishing in poverty. This requires a behavioural change on their part. But an equally radical change is probably required by donors, who need to review their way of doing business in Afghanistan, in line with some of the recommendations made by the recent reports on aid effectiveness.

Edited by Sari Kouvo

(1) The Paris criteria (from the Oxfam/SCA report):

Ownership: Developing countries set their own strategies for poverty reduction, improve their institutions and tackle corruption.
Alignment: Donor countries align behind these objectives and use local systems.
Harmonisation: Donor countries coordinate, simplify procedures and share information to avoid duplication.
Results: Developing countries and donors shift focus to development results and results get measured.
Mutual accountability: Donors and partners are accountable for development results.

(2) Oxfam and SCA had the support of Catholic Agency for Overseas Development (CAFOD) for this report. The report was prepared by ATR Consulting in Kabul, Afghanistan, the views and recommendations presented in the report are those of ATR, and do not necessarily reflect those held by SCA, Oxfam or CAFOD.

(3) This is also evident from the budgets for the last seven years, which are now available to the public on the Ministry of Finance’s website (see also AAN’s analysis on the Afghan budget for 2018/19). Publicly available and in searchable formats (PDFs and excel) budgets for the last seven years, are the latest attempts of the current Afghan government to make its public finances accessible and transparent and in line with the best international open government practices.

(4) According tothe Oxfam/SCA report the budget was split into two categories: 62 per cent for the operating budget and 38 per cent for the development budget. Donors gave money to both budgets, 1.9 billion USD for the operating budget and 2.214 billion USD for the development budget. In the development budget, donors provide both discretionary (493 million USD) and non-discretionary (1.674 billion USD) funding (see here).

(5) A recent Afghan media report explains how this works in practice, quoting an Islamic scholar and a civil society representative speaking at an election-related press conference in early May 2018:

[Mawlawi] Rahmatullah Andar, an Islamic scholar, told the press conference that […] “The government approved 75 development projects for Ghazni [province] this fiscal year and reserved only 14 to as many districts while the rest of the other projects are given to four districts which have representatives in the Wolesi Jirga.”

A civil society activist from Ghazni, Inayatullah Naseri, also said only four people from as many districts out of Ghazi’s 18 [district centres] represented the whole province in the parliament.

(6) A leading Afghan anti-corruption civil society organisation, Integrity Watch Afghanistan’s (IWA) 2016 national survey on perceptions and experiences of corruption, found that more than 70 per cent of Afghans thought that corruption in 2016 was worse than it was in 2014 when a similar survey was conducted.

(7) According to CSIS figures (quoted in this AAN analysis), the US ratio between military and civilian spending between 2001 and 2012 in Afghanistan was 16:1.

(8) There are more recent World Bank figures (see here), putting the 2011/12 poverty rate at 36 per cent and giving one of 39 per cent for 2013/14 – deviating somewhat surprisingly from the CSO figures, despite the fact that the World Bank cooperated with the CSO on the figures in the Afghanistan Living Conditions Survey, formerly known as the National Risk Vulnerability Assessment.

(9) The Gini index or Gini coefficient is a statistical measure of distribution developed by the Italian statistician Corrado Gini in 1912. It is often used, including by the UN, as a gauge of economic inequality, measuring income distribution or, less commonly, wealth distribution among a population (see here).

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

Still under the IS’s Black Flag: Qari Hekmat’s ISKP island in Jawzjan after his death by drone

Tue, 15/05/2018 - 08:38

In April, Qari Hekmatullah, the self-proclaimed commander of the Islamic State Khorasan Province (ISKP), was killed in a US airstrike. Under his command, a local affiliate of the Afghan-Pakistani Daesh affiliate, ISKP, had challenged both the government and the Taleban and established almost full control over two remote districts of Jawzjan province, Darzab and Qush Tepa. In this update of earlier reports on the situation in the area, AAN’s Obaid Ali takes a look at the latest dynamics there following Hekmat’s death and finds that his group is still in charge.

The killing of Qari Hekmat

On 5 April 2018, a US airstrike killed Qari Hekmat – as he was usually known – an ISKP-affiliated commander in northern Afghanistan. According to a statement released by US military headquarters, Hekmat was killed in Qorogh village of Belcheragh district in neighbouring Faryab province. General Faqir Muhammad Jawzjani, the province’s police chief, also confirmed that he had been killed in a US airstrike (media report here).

Sources close to Hekmat told AAN that he had survived a drone attack a day earlier, on 4 April 2018, while he and two of his bodyguards were en route to visit fighters in the village of Qorogh (where he was killed the following day). The attack that killed him along with one of his bodyguards was carried out as they attempted to return to his base in Sar Dara village in the district of Darzab. The second bodyguard was wounded.

Qorogh is a village on the Faryab side of the border between this province and his stronghold in Jawzjan. But it is surrounded by a number of villages that belong to Darzab district. For this reason, Qorogh’s inhabitants interact mainly with residents from Darzab. Hekmat’s presence there was due to the proximity of the village to his base and was not a sign that he was planning to expand his activities in Faryab.

Qari Hekmat was a former Taleban commander who, in 2015, joined the Islamic State Khorasan Province (ISKP), a recognised branch of the Syria/Iraq-based Islamic State (IS) for Afghanistan and Pakistan, an area the IS calls Khorasan. Under the ISKP banner, Hekmat took over most of Qush Tepa and Darzab districts and established his own parallel administration (read more AAN background on Qari Hekmat here and here).

A new leader

After Qari Hekmat’s killing, the group’s decision-making council appointed Mawlawi Habib Rahman as his successor. Hekmat had established the council, which consists of 14 loyal commanders, although its exact composition is not known. With its military and administrative structures, the council serves as the core management body for the local ISKP branch (more AAN reporting here). It discusses and decides on military, public outreach, finance and security issues every month.

Unlike Hekmat, 31 year-old Mawlawi Habib Rahman is a relative newcomer to the Jawzjan insurgency and not a local. The Uzbek from Sholgara district in Balkh province joined Hekmat’s forces in 2016. Previously he had served as the head of the group’s shadow judiciary and as a member of the decision-making council (read AAN’s previous analysis here). He had thus demonstrated his capacity to serve in a relatively high position within the group under Hekmat’s command. Despite his young age, limited local knowledge and military experience, his appointment seems to have happened without dispute and largely due to the fact that he is a religious scholar and was Hekmat’s close aide in the early stages of the pro-ISKP formation.

Habib Rahman is also the brother in-law of a former Taleban shadow district governor in Qush Tepa, Mufti Nemat, who surrendered to General Abdulrashid Dostum in 2015. He later switched sides again to join the late Hekmat. Mufti Nemat continues to operate in Darzab and might also have supported the appointment of Habib Rahman to lead the group.

The consequences of Qari Hekmat’s death

The killing of Qari Hekmat has not led to a visible weakening of the military position of the group in either of the districts they control. This has been confirmed to AAN by various sources. In the eyes of Sher Muhammad, an Afghan Local Police (ALP) commander in Darzab district, the killing did not have “any negative impact” on the group or its grip over the two districts. He told AAN “The Daesh front line is only 500 metres away from the Afghan security force’s base in Darzab district centre.” The district governor of Qush Tepa, Aminullah Amin, confirmed this to AAN. According to him, Daesh continues to occupy most parts of Qush Tepa and Darzab. While the exact number of ISKP-affiliated fighters in Jawzjan is unclear, Amin further told AAN they were strong enough to defeat the local Afghan security forces. Local sources close to the group told AAN that Mawlawi Habib Rahman currently leads 300 to 400 fighters that include some Central Asians.

Local elders told AAN that the local pro-ISKP group does not have a military base or any other permanent presence in the villages of both districts but that fighters visit villages on a weekly basis, distributing announcements to obey the ISKP’s instructions. But in contrast to this agency report, the ISKP fighters do not dwell “in caves” but occupy houses abandoned by the local population. This is also the case with their headquarters in Sar Dara, a wide valley used for agricultural purposes in Darzab. Despite the lack of a permanent ISKP presence there, neither government forces nor Taleban fighters attempt to enter these villages, for fear that they might be trapped by pro-ISKP fighters.

Following the killing of Qari Hekmat, neither the ANSF nor the local Taleban have attempted to carry out large-scale counteroffensive against pro-ISKP fighters in Darzab or Qush Tepa. The only operation conducted was one by Afghan Special Security Forces (ASSF) and US Special Operation Forces (SOF) in Darzab. According to a statement released by the US-led Resolute Support mission on 11 April – six days after Qari Hekmat’s killing –, the ASSF and SOF killed 22 ISKP fighters in the district. The statement further said that since the beginning of 2018, 90 ISKP fighters had been killed, the majority in Darzab (full text here).

The Resolute Support figure, however, was not confirmed by AAN’s local sources. Speaking to AAN, local elders from Darzab confirmed the 11 April Special Forces operation there but said only “a few” pro-ISKP fighters had been killed and that the US and Afghan forces had left the area again. Local officials also told AAN that there had not been any attempt to carry out a large-scale counter-offensive against ISKP fighters in the province so far. Sher Muhammad, the ALP commander, and district governor Amin, however, insist that such an operation must be carried out in order to eliminate the ISKP threat. Speaking to AAN on 13 May 2018, Najib Danesh, spokesman for the Ministry of Interior, said the Afghan security forces would soon conduct clearance operations against Taleban and ISKP in Jawzjan.

The limited number of local Afghan security forces in Darzab and Qush Tepa hampers such an operation. They are stationed in only a few bases in the district centres and are only capable of protecting the centres as well as a few nearby villages. Deploying reinforcements and logistical supplies to Qush Tepa and Darzab is a serious challenge, as the highway connecting the provincial centre Shebarghan to both districts is mostly controlled and often blocked by Qari Hekmat’s fighters.

Neither have the Taleban yet responded to the pro-ISKP fighters in Jawzjan after their fighters retreated to the neighbouring provinces of Faryab and Sar-e Pul in January 2018 (AAN’s previous report here). This is largely due to the local Taleban commanders’ failure to recruit new local fighters as well as their fear of being targeted by ASSF or US SOF airstrikes. Therefore, the pro-ISKP network in Darzab and Qush Tepa continues to enjoy a monopoly of control in most parts of both districts.

Links with ISKP Central?

It is still not clear how strong the group’s connections are with the ISKP’s main foothold in Afghanistan, in eastern Nangrahar province. In June 2017, a delegation from Darzab visited Nangrahar province (see AAN’s analysis here) but further face-to-face contact has not been reported. In March 2018, a video clip that was apparently filmed by Uzbek fighters operating in Jawzjan under the ISKP flag and released by ISKP supporters on Facebook, featured fighters in Jawzjan pledging an oath of allegiance to the Islamic State. The video also showed a group of young Uzbek boys completing military training and expressing loyalty to the Islamic State, although the exact locations were unclear. Furthermore, it contained material showing an ISKP commander in Nangrahar appealing to IS fighters in Syria and Iraq to join the Afghan ISKP. This was – according to AAN’s knowledge – the first video featuring both ISKP fighters in Jawzjan and Nangrahar provinces.

The pro-ISKP network in Jawzjan does not have its own media wing to release its videos or statements. In most cases, material is distributed through individual Facebook accounts belonging to sympathisers.

Conclusion

Looking at the current dynamics within the ISKP militancy in Darzab and Qush Tepa, its fighters have remained unified and resilient enough to survive the death of their local supreme leader. The late Hekmat’s investment in these isolated and mountainous areas, building on his decade of military experience with the Taleban and his knowledge of the local dynamics, has ensured a strong and resilient pro-ISKP foothold in the southeast of Jawzjan. This is not to say that the killing of Qari Hekmat will not affect the group’s continued military success or its current hold over the two districts over time, particularly as Mawlawi Habib Rahman needs to show whether he can fully replace Hekmat and operate as successfully as he did. But so far there are – despite some losses – no significant signs of disunity or fragmentation within the pro-ISKP fighters in Jawzjan, and their territorial grip remains unchallenged and unchanged.

Edited by Sari Kouvo and Thomas Ruttig

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

Two New Reports on Afghan Civilian Casualties: Gruelling, but important reading

Wed, 09/05/2018 - 03:55

UNAMA and Human Rights Watch have each released blistering reports on the killing and wounding of civilians in the Afghan conflict. UNAMA presents the results of its investigation into the Afghan Air Force’s bombing of an open-air graduation ceremony at a madrassa in Dasht-e Archi in Kunduz province in April. It concludes that, even if the air force had a military target, no care was taken to spare the many civilians present, including the dozens of children who were killed or injured. It is the voices of the civilian victims and survivors of insurgent attacks in urban areas, which are at the heart of the Human Rights Watch publication. Both reports, says AAN’s Kate Clark, make important reading.

UNAMA ‘Special Report Airstrikes in Dasht-e-Archi district, Kunduz Province, 2 April 2018.’

In Laghmani village, Dasht-e Archi district of Kunduz province at about 12.30 on 2 April 2018, Afghan Air Force helicopters fired multiple rockets and heavy machine guns during an open-air ‘dastar bandi’ (turban-tying, ie a graduation) ceremony next to a madrassa where hundreds of men and boys had gathered.

The government said the attack had targeted senior Taleban leaders, including members of the Quetta Shura, foreign commanders and members of Taleban ‘special forces’, the Red Unit, whom it said had gathered to plan a military campaign to attack Kunduz city. It had had the area under surveillance, it said, for a week.

UNAMA said it could not verify the civilian status of each person killed or injured, but found that the crowd gathered for the ceremony “was primarily civilian.” Among them was a large number of children, “many under the age of ten.” UNAMA notes that people had come to attend a ceremony that was “religious in nature” and which had been “widely advertised.” The attack was launched when lunch was about to be served. The crowd, it said, “included members of the community, including children,” who had come to observe the ceremony or eat the meal.

UNAMA’s methodology requires three independent sources to confirm civilian status. It said it had verified 107 civilian casualties (36 killed and 71 injured). They included 81 children (30 killed and 51 injured). The civilian status of a further 15 casualties (2 killed and 13 injured, including six children) was partially verified, ie by two independent sources. (In total, it received more than 200 allegations of civilian casualties.) UNAMA acknowledges that the figures presented in its report may “not be exhaustive” be because of “these stringent verification standards and the challenges of obtaining information.”

UNAMA said it is not in a position to judge whether Taleban were present or not (some locals reported to it that there had been unarmed Taleban in the crowd and a number of armed Taleban taking care of security). However, it said that even if the government had a legitimate military target, “[t]he high numbers of child casualties resulting from this attack, which took place in a civilian area during a religious ceremony, combined with the use of imprecise weapons in this context, raise questions as to the respect by the government of the rules of precaution and proportionality.” It was “reasonably foreseeable” UNAMA said, that “an attack against this area, using imprecise weapons, during a religious ceremony would have caused a large number of civilian casualties, with lethal indiscriminate effects.”

Reading UNAMA’s account, it is hard to see how, at the very least, the Afghan Air Force pilots could have failed to see the many children present, sitting separately at the rear of the ceremony. It seems they must have seen them, but gone ahead with the attack anyway. Indeed, according to the victims and witnesses interviewed by UNAMA, the helicopters struck the children first.

Local residents told UNAMA they believed the government authorities “viewed civilian populations in areas under Taliban control, such as Dasht-e-Archi, with suspicion. They expressed concern that this may be resulting in their differential treatment.”

Despite UNAMA’s use of careful, sober language, the gravity of what it is saying is clear. The Afghan Air Force did not protect, or even mitigate the harm it did to civilians. It failed to discriminate between civilians and combatants. Finally, the suspicion from the population is that the government considers anyone who lives in a Taleban-controlled area as an enemy. UNAMA reminds the government that civilians remain civilians wherever they live and must be spared.

Human Rights Watch report ‘“No Safe Place”: Insurgent Attacks on Civilians in Afghanistan.’

Human Rights Watch’s report on the experiences of civilians killed and wounded by Taleban and the Islamic State in Khorasan Province (ISKP) is excoriating. Here, it is the stories of survivors and relatives of victims told in their own words that are so compelling. HRW has heard from people in Kabul, Jalalabad and Herat who were “walking down the street, working in a shop, preparing food at home, or worshipping in a mosque” when they experienced “sudden and terrifying violence.” They were victims of attacks which intentionally targeted civilians – in mosques, schools and hospitals – or failed to discriminate between civilians and combatants or to mitigate the harm done while attacking a military target, causing disproportionate harm.

Civilian casualties often end up as statistics: the numbers are important, but so are the individuals. To take just one example from the many victims featured in HRW’s report, M Ahmadi, a property dealer, was in his shop on 24 July 2017 when the Taleban carried out a suicide bombing against a staff shuttle bus from the Ministry of Mines. The Taleban claimed they had hit an NDS bus. Even if that had been true, the attack in a busy area of Kabul was bound to kill and injure civilians like M Ahmadi. 38 civilians were killed in the attack and he was among the dozens injured.

I was in my shop…. I heard a very loud sound and I did not know what happened…. I was not hearing well, and somebody pushed me and said, “Get out!” The staff shuttle bus for the Ministry of Mines that had been bombed had crashed into my shop. I walked out with bare feet and the broken glass cut into my feet. My shop was on fire. There were fires on both sides of the street.

Out on the street a car stopped in front of him and the driver told him to get in: He took me to Mawla Hospital and he called my family to let them know. Then my sons brought me to Emergency Hospital. I do not remember how long I was there. My head, my belly, and my arm were injured—there are still shell fragments in my arm…. During the night I scream in my sleep. The doctors told me I need to see a psychiatrist. But I cannot because of the money.

My family asks me not to go to work, but what can I do? This shop is mine, and I had to borrow a lot of money to repair it. I am the only breadwinner in the family. Due to our financial problems, my children can’t go to school now. Why doesn’t the government give some money to help the injured people in this area? Aren’t we from this land, from this country?

M Ahmadi’s account is typical in many ways, describing how the consequences of an attack are not just immediate and physical, but also psychological, financial and long-lasting, with the devastation rippling through many lives. Some of the victims telling their stories have been left with permanent disabilities or are the orphans or widows of those killed.

Human Rights Watch says that, although no statistics are available, its research suggests “a large proportion of those killed and injured have been the very poor.” That poor people may be more at risk from attacks could be anticipated. The very rich use armoured cars and live behind concrete walls. Even the somewhat well off may be able to afford the choice of not working in or near places of high risk, although they may still be caught up in attacks as passers-by. Who, but the poorest with no economic alternative would spend large amounts of their working days near a high-risk location like the old Ministry of Interior? It was attacked by the Taleban with an ambulance rigged with explosives on 27 January 2017. More than 100 people were killed and 200 injured, including, said HRW, street children, peddlers and kiosk vendors. HRW makes the point that such victims and their families are also the least able to cope with the severe financial hardship of losing a breadwinner, or permanent disability or of losing what little in the way of the tools of their trade they might have had.

The government has a laudable policy of providing assistance to victims of the conflict regardless of who the perpetrator was. The sums are small, but many victims told HRW help had not been forthcoming. Others described the process for obtaining the assistance as “prohibitively onerous, or was tainted by corruption, with some receiving assistance and others not.” There is rarely the necessary assistance for complex medical needs and scarcely any provision for psycho-social support.Nongovernmental services, HRW said, were overwhelmed. “Whatever animosity they felt toward those who had carried out the attack,” HRW said, victims also described “feeling abandoned by the government and the international community.” Every person interviewed for the report, it said, described “living with fear that other loved ones would die or be injured in the next catastrophic attack.”

Conclusion

In 2017, one third of the civilians killed and injured by insurgents were victims of suicide attacks. Such attacks in urban areas, which inevitably or intentionally cause mass civilian casualties, have been have part of the Taleban’s ‘portfolio of operations’ since the mid-2000s. Last year saw a dramatic increase in the number and magnitude of such attacks, as ISKP has increasingly and intentionally targeted civilian city dwellers, particularly Shia Muslims.

This trend has come “in tandem,” HRW said, with “increased military operations by Afghan National Security Forces (ANSF) and United States forces in provinces where the Taliban have made significant territorial gains.” That increase has included air attacks – the subject of Human Rights Watch’s next report. While still only causing six per cent of overall civilian casualties, the total number of civilians killed and injured in air strikes is rising, with 2017 the worst year since UNAMA systematically started compiling statistics in 2009. (1)

In October 2017, we wrote that every single previous Afghan government or armed group with access to airpower since 1978 had deliberately targeted civilians. What makes the Dasht-e Archi bombing so disturbing is the possibility that the current Afghan Air Force may have crossed that line. When and if any Afghan party to the conflict ceases to see all Afghan civilians as ‘their people’, whether that is city-dwellers for the Taleban or those living in rural Taleban-controlled areas for government forces, the door is opened to indiscriminate violence.

(1) Conclusions on the impact of air strikes are complex. The increased United States and Afghan government air cover may be one reason why civilians casualties from insurgent ground offensives fell last year, pushing an overall slight fall in numbers: the risk of air strikes made it riskier for the Taleban to gather in large numbers to launch offensives. (For numbers, see UNAMA’s 2017 Protection of Civilians report, with AAN analysis here.

Increased air operations also resulted in a record number of civilians killed and injured in air strikes in 2017. However, the increase in sorties flown and weapons dropped in 2017 was far higher than the increase in civilian casualties, indicating that the quality of safeguards was not falling. As UNAMA put it, “the reduced harm ratio suggests improvements in targeting and civilian protection procedures.” Even so, it also said:

…as civilian casualties from aerial operations reached record high levels in 2017, UNAMA once again recommends that both the Afghan Air Force and international military forces review targeting criteria and pre-engagement precautionary measures, including considering the high likelihood of civilian presence in populated areas and starting from a position of considering all persons to be civilians unless determined otherwise.

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

Inside and Outside the System: New AAN report on Afghanistan’s political parties published

Sun, 06/05/2018 - 15:20

The role of political parties in Afghanistan’s highly centralised presidential system, with only limited parliamentary checks and balances, is an important yardstick by which to measure how the country has fared in its attempts to democratise in the post-Taleban era. This new AAN thematic report, in cooperation with the German Konrad Adenauer Foundation (KAS), looks at the complex issue of political party development over the period of 2001 to 2016, following up on a first paper published in 2006 and the parties’ impact on the nominally democratic system. AAN co-director Thomas Ruttig, who has been researching Afghan political party history for over 35 years, concludes that the parties have remained peripheral to the political system and that this is one key reason why the system is not progressing toward a more democratic political practice. In this introductory dispatch, which also serves as a short overview over developments not covered in the paper, he adds that this has not changed in the run-up to the upcoming parliamentary elections where parties, once again, will not play a major role.

The paper draws on and provides an update of the author’s 2006 paper on the same subject, published by Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung (KAS). It is based on research conducted during extensive fieldwork in Afghanistan between 2006 and 2016. It draws on a large number of interviews with political party leaders, activists and analysts, the many Afghanistan Analysts Network (AAN) publications on the Afghan political party scene since 2009 and other available literature. (You can find the list of AAN publications as an annex to the paper and as a separate dossier, here: add link).

The years since 2001 constitute the longest period in Afghanistan’s history during which political parties have been able to operate openly. For the first time parties are fully legal. Despite many shortcomings, they have become a reality within the polity of present-day Afghanistan. In reference to the democratic periods of 1947-52 and 1963-73, the post-2001 periofd could be dubbed Afghanistan’s “third democratic period.” But much of the democratic potential, particularly embodied in the political parties as a reflection of the country’s political diversity, has remained unused or even blocked. This is another similarity with both the 1947-52 and 1963-73 periods.

Notably, the three ideologically different historical political currents (Islamists, leftists and ethno-nationalists) have proven relatively stable since 2006, although to differing degrees. This cannot be said (yet) for the two new currents, the new democratic parties that openly emerged immediately after 2001 and the neo-Islamist groups that later became more prominent – and not for most existing political parties. The void in the centre of the political spectrum – ie the lack of a moderate, pro-government or pro-reform party – remains glaringly unoccupied.

A high degree of fragmentation and a personality-oriented character complicates the landscape for Afghanistan’s political parties.

Afghanistan’s laws regarding political parties and their participation in elections are highly ambivalent. As a result, while Afghanistan’s political parties are a political and legal reality today (as well as historically, with the first parties having emerged in the late 1940s) and while this system is constitutionally designed as a multi-party democracy, the parties cannot openly compete for power.

This is particularly the case in the parliamentary elections, where candidates are free to identify themselves as members of a certain party (although many do not), parties as such are unable to play an official role. Most significantly, in the current electoral system, which is individual-based, parties cannot field lists of their candidates, there are no parliamentary seats reserved for political parties, as in other countries, and parties are not allowed to establish factions in parliament. The latter provisions, even more paradoxically, have never been laid down in any legislation, yet they are still adhered to.

This situation also limits the necessity for inter-party competition and for the individual parties to tie members, sympathisers and potential voters closer to them. The level of political maturity, organisational stability and the internal democratic nature of Afghanistan’s political parties, remains low.

Legally, the parties are inherent to the political system, but in practice they remain outside it, or at least relegated to the sidelines. Their strength has never been measured by full and unhindered participation in elections. This has prevented any ‘natural selection’ based on voter mobilisation or the number of votes received, that usually curbs the number of political parties – which is seen as excessive by many in Afghanistan. This is what the author calls a “paradoxical system.”

More paradoxically, while parties as such have no place in the system as a result of an election, some of their leaders hold a very prominent place, as individuals, in the parallel political system built during the Karzai years. (This might by less so the case under the current government.) This has relegated the parties – ie their members and sympathisers – to a position where they mainly serve as voter mobilisation machines during times of election, while, in between elections, they drift back into insignificance and hold no influence on their leaders’ politics. Additionally, this has led to the emergence of a two-class party system, with some parties (or rather their leaders) within this parallel system and all other parties outside of it.

Optimistically put, Afghanistan’s political party system is still a system in the making.

Thomas Ruttig, AAN co-director and senior analyst, at KAS Kabul on 6 May 2018, presenting his new AAN paper about political parties development in Afghanistan (2001-16). Photo: AAN

Some post-2016 developments

The upcoming parliamentary elections, scheduled now for 20 October 2018 (AAN analysis here), are already casting a shadow. Political parties’ positioning, alliance building and re-aligning has already started (see for example AAN’s analysis here, here and here).

Electoral reform, however, including the envisioned strengthening of the role of political parties, has not happened (AAN analysis here). A last ditch effort by a broad coalition of parties, including some usually close to President Ashraf Ghani (see AAN’s analysis here) has apparently been warded off. This was not too difficult, as the proposal came late and was contradictory, as it would have required a lengthy legislative procedure which, in turn, would have jeopardised the 20 October election date – that parties simultaneously insisted must be respected at all costs.

After the 2016 peace deal with the government, Hezb-e Islami and its leader Gulbuddin Hekmatyar returned to the country. Various wings and factions reunited, although one of them – that of former minister Abdul Hadi Arghandiwal – challenged that Hekmatyar could claim the party’s official registration (AAN analysis here) that was done under his name, leading to Arghandiwal’s expulsion by Hekmatyar (media reporting here).

After internal power struggles in the government, Jamiat-e Islami and Jombesh-e Melli Islami set up an opposition coalition, dubbed the ‘Ankara coalition’ by the public – while many of their leading figures still occupied government positions (AAN analysis here). Jombesh itself has been challenged by the launch of a New Jombesh (AAN analysis here). In Jamiat, a struggle is underway about who should be the permanent replacement for its assassinated leader Ustad Borhanuddin Rabbani (AAN analysis here).

Supporters of former President Hamed Karzai, who continues to harbour ambitions of a political comeback, formed a new political grouping but then distanced themselves somewhat from him again, following a series of controversial political statements (AAN analysis here). Afghan Mellat, one of the country’s oldest parties, split (media report here). Its long-term leader, former minister Anwar-ul-Haq Ahadi, joined hands with the former mujahedin party of Harakat-e Enqilab-e Eslami-e Afghanistan (Islamic Revolution Movement of Afghanistan) (AAN analysis here), in a New National Front (media report here). This alliance has come out as the most vocal group demanding an end to the NUG and a political system re-launch by a Loya Jirga.

On the left side of the spectrum, some politicians re-launched the Hezb-e Watan (Fatherland Party) (AAN analysis here). A party under the same name wasthe successorof the Soviet-backed Hezb-e Dimukratik-e Khalq-e Afghanistan (People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan, PDPA), which ruled the country following a coup in 1978 and during the Soviet occupation (1979-89) and was revamped by President Najibullah in 1990 when he tried to shed its communist past (an AAN dossier here).

The on-going rift within the National Unity Government, embodied by the opposing positions of the president and Chief Executive Abdullah, over the implementation of the roll-out of an electronic ID card (AAN analysis here) that would double as a voter card has pushed Abdullah’s party, Jamiat, deeper into opposition.

Finally, President Ghani offered the Taleban a chance to participate in the upcoming elections as a political party (AAN analysis here) – which was promptly declined by the insurgents.

The Ministry of Justice (MoJ), unlike in 2009 and 2013/14, has refrained from unleashing another ‘re-registration’ exercise again, although there were hints it might do so in 2015 (media report here). But pressure on the parties has been kept up, particularly on the political party law’s stipulation that each party must have a clearly visible, separate office in at least 24 provinces (and not only a rented backroom). This keeps a Sword of Damocles hanging over them, as almost none of them – not even the more affluent ones – has the financial or organisational capacity to adhere to this stipulation.

Afghanistan’s political parties will once again remain peripheral to the upcoming parliamentary elections. Although their number, ie those registered with the MoJ, has risen again to 74 (from 57 in mid-2016), there will be no seats reserved for parties in the lower house of parliament, the Wolesi Jirga, no political party lists of candidates and no party-based parliamentary groups or factions.

Publication date: 06 May 2018

The full report can be downloaded here.

This report is simultaneously published in German at the KAS’s Kabul office website, here.

There also will be an AAN dossier on Afghanistan’s political parties up here soon.

Opening of the presentation by Matthias Riesenhuber, head of the KAS country office in Kabul, and project manager Khalid Gharanai. Photo: KAS Kabul.

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

An April Day That Changed Afghanistan 4: The evolution of the PDPA and its relations with the Soviet Union

Thu, 03/05/2018 - 03:00

After the leftists of the People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan (PDPA) seized power in the Saur Revolution of April 1978, the Soviet Union became Kabul’s key backer, to the extent of invading the country in 1979 to prevent local insurgencies and military rebellions toppling its new ally. AAN’s Thomas Ruttig here explores the relationship between the Soviet Union and the successive PDPA governments and armed forces that it backed, in an attempt to clarify how the chain of command worked. This is important because a person in authority who orders a war crime or fails to stop it being committed is considered guilty of that crime. The issue here is: who was actually in command in the PDPA governments and armed forces.

This is the fourth part of a mini-series looking at the Saur Revolution and its consequences. Part 1 looked at what happened and why there was a coup. In Part 2, we presented the stories of eight Afghans who were alive at the time, their memories of the day itself and the impact the coup had on their lives. Part 3 looked at the war crimes of the pre-Soviet invasion PDPA regimes.

The paper published below was originally commissioned by the Afghanistan Independent Human Rights Commission’s (AIHRC) for its ‘conflict mapping report’. The AIHRC report detailed the war crimes during all the various phases of the Afghan war from the Saur Revolution to the fall of the Taleban. It brought together both published sources and fresh investigations into the war crimes and crimes against humanity allegedly committed in each of Afghanistan’s provinces. Thomas Ruttig’s analysis of the PDPA and Soviet relationship was part of a chapter which detailed the command structures of the various parties to the conflict between 1978 and 2001. Who gives the orders and who actually has the authority to ensure they are implemented are critical issues when trying to determine responsibility for war crimes – hence the Commission’s interest in mapping this out.

Unfortunately, his chapter like the rest of the AIHRC conflict mapping report has never been published. An earlier ‘mapping report’ by the United Nations, which was published briefly in 2004 and then taken down from the UN website (it was cached, however, and can be read here). The report took more than six years to research and write, starting from 2005.

However, the Commission leadership felt that, in the absence of support from then President Hamed Karzai, in the last years of its presidency, the threats its staff faced from politicians who assumed they appeared in the report were too great. They also felt that for such a report to be beneficial, it should not just be dumped on the internet, but be part of a process of national reconciliation and truth-telling where Afghans could find out about what happened in parts of the county and eras they had no personal experience of. Commission staff, an internal survey found, were predominantly in favour of publishing, partly because they felt a duty to the witnesses and survivors they had interviewed. Then, in December 2011, Karzai dismissed two key members of the commission and left the body in limbo, appointing new members only 19 months later. The report was quietly put aside.

President Ashraf Ghani, speaking ahead of the 2014 election, told AAN he would publish the report if elected, “I don’t have any problem with publishing. What I want is a genuine Afghan reconciliation process. We’re tired of blood. We need to reach closure.”Chief Executive Abdullah was more hesitant; he did not know about the report, but when told about it was worried that it might refresh the “wounds of the past,” rather than curing them.(1) The National Unity Government has not published it.

Who gave the orders during the PDPA era, as during all the other phases of the conflict, is significant. All the PDPA administrations committed major war crimes. The first two governments under Presidents Nur Muhammad Tarakay and Hafizullah Amin (1978-1979) disappeared tens of thousands of citizens, carried out torture and massacres of civilians (read more about them in the third part of AAN’s series on the Saur revolution, by AAN guest author, Patricia Gossman). Under the presidencies of Babrak Karmal (1979 to 1986) and Najibullah (1986 to 1992), after the Soviet invasion, torture became more systemic under the newly created KhAD intelligence service, modeled on the KGB, and sham trials with many executions. Both Soviet and Afghan government forces carried out indiscriminate bombing of the countryside which resulted in mass casualties and the forced displacement of five million Afghans to Iran and Pakistan. (For more detail, read the report “Casting Shadows” by the Afghanistan Justice Project here.)

Here we publish Thomas Ruttig’s chapter on command and control in the PDPA administrations, as it was prepared ready for the AIHRC mapping report.

The Evolution of the PDPA and its Relations with the Soviet Union

The beginnings: In the underground

The Hezb-e Demokratik-e Khalq-e Afghanistan, or the People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan (PDPA), was founded on 1 January 1965 in Kabul. Most of its 27 founding members belonged to Marxist study circles that had sprung up in the early 1960s, some with a more social democratic outlook. The earliest one reportedly goes back to 1956 even.[1]

A number of these circles “avowed themselves to Marxism-Leninism and referred to themselves as communists”; some had military officers amongst its members.[2] The participants of the PDPA founding congress elected Nur Muhammad Tarakay[3], a teacher, and Babrak Karmal, a former students’ leader, as head of its Central Committee and his deputy. Both became heads of state later under the Soviet-backed regime.

The PDPA was one of the political groups that took advantage of the political opening that followed the adoption of the 1964 constitution. The new constitution had turned Afghanistan from an absolute into a constitutional monarchy that included elements of parliamentarianism. It allowed the formation of political parties for the first time in Afghanistan’s history. The envisaged law on political parties that was passed by the parliament, however, was never signed by King Muhammad Zaher Shah. Subsequently, the emerging parties remained in a legal limbo. The PDPA, officially respecting the legal situation, continued to work but did not call itself a “party” publicly, but Jerian-e Demokratik-e Khalq, “People’s Democratic current”, instead. While the moderate groups discontinued their activities, the more radical groups on the left (the two main Marxists currents) and the right (different Islamist groups) went underground and started to infiltrate the armed forces. The blockade of emerging party pluralism led the way to use of violent means to obtain political power.

In 1973, military officers linked to the Parcham faction supported the coup d’état of Sardar (Prince) Muhammad Daud. A number of Parcham members joined the government as ministers but the group was sidelined by Daud from 1975 onwards, under the influence of his beginning tilt towards the Shah’s Iran. Afghan history started repeating itself when military officers close to Khalq and Parcham – urged by Moscow and the Communist Party of India, both factions had re-united in 1977 – toppled Daud and killed him as well as most members of his family on 27 April 1978. This event, technically a military putsch, was labeled the ‘Saur revolution’ by the party.

From its beginnings, the PDPA faced internal factionalism. The party already split in 1967 into Khalq and Parcham, both named after the party’s early periodicals. While Khalq members mainly were Pashtuns, Parcham was predominantly considered to be non-Pashtun although its most prominent leaders – Khaibar, Karmal and late president Dr. Najibullah – actually also were Pashtuns (Karmal a detribalized one, he mainly spoke Dari.) In August 1968, North-based Settam-e Melli, or ‘[Against] National Oppression’, led by Central Committee member Taher Badakhshi, broke away because, in contrast to the two main factions, it considered the ‘national question’ more important than the ‘class question’.

While the PDPA, between its establishment and April 1978, was one amongst various political groups in Afghanistan, it turned into the ruling party when two days after the 27 April coup Tarakay took over as head of a mainly civilian Revolutionary Council from the initial Revolutionary Military Council. This signified the political takeover of the party from the military.

Despite its rhetorical commitment to a ‘broad front of all progressive forces’, the PDPA immediately established a one-party system in Afghanistan, imitating the countries of the Soviet bloc. The Khalq-Parcham split re-emerged and the ruling Khalqis officially declared five groups their enemies: Parchami, the Islamists, the Maoists, the Settamis and the Pashtun nationalist of Afghan Mellat, along with independent intellectuals. Many people that belonged to those categories – or were perceived to do so – were arrested, killed or ‘disappeared’, sometimes with their whole families. The Khalqis’ internal purges of the party were reciprocated by the Parchamisafter they came to power in the wake of the Soviet invasion over Christmas 1979. That perpetuated the split between the two factions, actually up to today.

How ‘communist’ was the PDPA?

In his inaugural speech [at the PDPA founding congress] in 1965, Tarakay used terminology like ‘class struggle’, eulogised the Russian October Revolution of 1917 and called the PDPA “the party of workers and peasants”. He said that “it is obvious to you all that our party is the party of the working class” and that it “struggles in conformance with the epoch-making ideology of the workers.”[4] The initial party program of 1966, however, avoided openly characterising the party as a ‘Marxist’ or ‘communist’. As its aim, it defined the “establishment of a national democratic government” composed “from the national progressive democratic and patriotic forces, ie the working class, the peasants and the national bourgeoisie.”[5] This terminology conformed with the ‘stage theory’ of revolutionary change that was a central part of Marxism-Leninism, the ideological basis of the Soviet-led communist bloc. The PDPA wanted to qualify as one of those ‘brotherly parties’. This terminology was maintained in the unity document of 1977 when Khalq and Parcham merged again.

Encouraged by it successful and initially not strongly opposed takeover in 1978, the party began to use Marxist terminology more openly. At Kabul International Airport, a signboard greeted visitors with the slogan “Welcome in the country of the second model revolution” (after the Lenin’s October Revolution in Russia), proclaiming the PDPA regime nothing less than the model for revolutionary change in the Third World. Later in the same year, Hafizullah Amin stated that the aim of his party was to “establish a society free of exploitation”[6], ie socialism/communism. In a bold step, the party changed the traditional national flag to its own red one. Still, terms like ‘Marxism’, ‘communist’ or ‘socialist’ were not used to publicly describe the party and its program.

This was done by Parcham in the wake of the Soviet military intervention, although it is usually considered more moderate than Khalq. In 1985, in a speech on the occasion of the PDPA’s 20th anniversary, Karmal went as far as calling the PDPA “the new typus party[7] of the proletariat and all working people of the country” the aim of which was to build “the Afghan society on the basis of socialism.”[8] This was an attempt to put the PDPA on par with the ruling parties of the USSR and its closest allies.

The state-party relationship: ‘Sovietisation’?

Contemporary Western authors broadly agree that the USSR – after its military invasion in late 1979 – intended to ‘sovietise’ the Afghan regime and incorporate it into its system. According to Hammond, ‘sovietisation’ consisted of two main elements: (1) the fact that Soviet advisors run many government offices (this included the military and security apparatus] and took the important decisions; (2) government, the party, mass organisations, the educational system and the economy were “all remodeled to imitate the Soviet pattern.”[9] Arnold even saw that “by the close of 1979, the PDPA no longer ruled Afghanistan; the CPSU [Communist Party of the Soviet Union] did.”[10] Indeed, the Soviet party leadership had established a powerful Afghan task force on the level of its Polit Bureau in October 1979. The number of military and civilian advisors increased drastically. After the invasion, “almost all affairs (…) were handled by {KGB chief] V.A. Kryuchkov’s men, and by him personally.”[11]

Virtual Soviet control and ‘sovietisation’ might be two different things. Bodansky sees a shifting Soviet perception of the PDPA regime early on: Soon after the invasion it realised “that the country was not a ‘socially developed’ state ripe for Socialism”, after it had initially accepted Afghanistan as a ‘socialist’ state in the making when the Saur revolution occurred. In contrast, Dorronsoro says that Soviet attempt to turn Afghanistan into another “Central Asian Republic” lasted till 1986, when “the failure of their project drove them to prepare the ground for withdrawal and to push for the ‘policy of national reconciliation’.”[12]

Initially, the Soviets had assumed that their intervention would be short-termed. In the country, the Soviet leadership soon found out that the Afghan government was already in crisis and saw itself forced to concentrate on stabilising it. This included the dispatch of massive numbers of advisors on all levels and in all spheres, in the party and its ‘mass organisations’ [ie youth, women’s organisations and trade unions], the government and the armed forces, from the national level at least to the provinces.[13]

While the USSR already had advisors and some military personnel in the country under Daud, this further increased after the Saur revolution to between 3000 and 4000 civilian advisors in late autumn 1979. This number more than doubled after the military invasion, “easily surpassing total PDPA membership.”[14] The largest group worked in the party structures; 80 advisors and 50 translators in the PDPA Central Committee alone and 50 in the PDPA youth organisation in 1983.[15] In 1987, there were 9000 advisors in the civilian bureaucracy. A CPSU Polit Bureau meeting designed “several points on which the Afghan leadership could be allowed to make its own decisions (…). PDPA documents were freely changed by Soviet advisors before being circulated, (…) foreign policy statements were written by them.” Amongst advisors, “KBG personnel were dominant.”[16] According to Michail Vorontsov, the last pre-withdrawal Soviet ambassador to Kabul (in the rank of a Deputy Foreign Minister), “we were always doing things for them our way, expecting them just to stand by and watch.”

Parallels were drawn to the successful integration of the Russian areas in Central Asia into the Soviet Union that had been equally backward in their social and infrastructural development in the 1920s as Afghanistan was then. Witnessing the shortcomings of the Afghan regime to safeguard its power, it substituted local decision-making perceived as ineffective by taking it over – a Soviet form of mission creep.

Constant references to Lenin’s writings in which he had warned against spreading communism in Afghanistan in official Soviet and other Eastern bloc media, however, bear witness to the fact that the USSR did not believe in Afghanistan’s development towards socialism anymore. As a former UN envoy for Afghanistan confirms, “Moscow made its first serious attempt to find a way out of the Afghan quagmire during the fifteen-month tenure of Yuri Andropov, from November 1982 until his death in February 1984.”[17] Restructuring all Afghan institutions according to the Soviet model was the only way the Soviet advisors knew how to organise a country.[18]

It seems that it was the PDPA, not the Soviets, who tried to copy the Soviet model for Afghanistan. First, it already had structured its internal party set-up according to the Soviet model, with a Central Committee (CC) as its leadership, before the takeover of 1978. Nevertheless, PDPA representatives were never invited to gatherings of the CPSU-led communist world movement before 1978. Soon after, facing growing resistance throughout the country, it had become clear to the PDPA leaders by then that its survival was dependent on Soviet support and even a Soviet military presence. The request to send Soviet troops had already been issued under Tarakay and Amin.

So, they went along with more ‘sovietisation’. In the party, now a Polit Bureau, a CC Secretariat, a countrywide structure with party organisations at the province, district and village level, in enterprises and in the armed forces were established. From 1978 onwards, “all party and governmental matters were carried out by the [PDPA] Polit Bureau.”[19] The cabinet became a Council of Ministers and the Revolutionary Council was subordinated to the PDPA, with the party’s chairman automatically its head. This was “the leading role of the party’ over the state and the whole society, another key element of Marxist-Leninist doctrine, codified in the “Basic Principles of the Democratic Republic of Afghanistan,” the provisional constitution that was in force from April 1980 until the adoption of the constitution of Najibullah’s ‘reformed’ Republic of Afghanistan in 1987. Its article 4 stipulated that the PDPA “will be the leading and mobilizing force of the society and the state,” ie the party dominated the state and not vice versa.

The party and the armed forces

Facing increasing resistance by the mujahedin, the PDPA from the beginning attempted to strengthen its political control over and coordination of the armed forces. In June 1979, the PDPA sent 1500 political instructors into the armed forces. Party decisions on a better organization of conscription (1982) and on the ‘patriotic education of the youth’ – to mobilise recruits – were taken. 86 per cent of all army units had a party organisation and the Social Science Institute had begun training cadres for army. In 1985, it appointed a special Central Committee secretary for this task.[20] An East German source assessed, however, that the “ideologisation” of the Afghan armed forces still was a “major task“ at this time.

The officer corps still lacked discipline and was influenced by ‘tribal’ conflicts.[21]

By December 1979, 30 per cent of all PDPA members served in the armed forces. In 1983, 19,320 of the army personnel (including the border troops) were PDPA members or candidates – roughly 40 per cent of the really existing personnel. On the other hand, 60 per cent or more of all PDPA members served in the army. But the party lost experienced cadres both due to internal purges, defections and in the fight against the mujahedin. “Young and inexperienced officers“ took their place and the party’s influence decreased.[22]

Particular attention was given to the intelligence service. The old one, the notorious, 7000-strong KAM with its Khalqi dominance, was completely abolished after Amin was toppled and the Soviet KGB assisted in building up the Parcham-dominated KhAD from 1980 onwards. Its personnel rose from 5,100 (1980) to 90,000 (1990), the budget increasing 300fold. 75 per cent of regional police commanders and 85 per cent of the political officers in the police still were Khalqi.[23]

When the Soviets stepped in, a ‘Soviet’ framework already existed and they were almost forced to follow its logic. Cordovez and Harrison describe KGB chief Kryuchkov’s 1978 Kabul mission when he found that key decisions about government structures were already taken by Tarakay and Amin.[24] They also could not get out of the self-set ideological trap that Afghanistan’s revolution – as the ones in Angola, Mozambique, Ethiopia, Nicaragua and elsewhere – must be protected because the ever-growing ‘expansion of the socialist world system’ was ‘irreversible’. Everything else would be a loss of prestige a super power could not accept.

Kalinovsky even argues that calling this process a ‘sovietisation’ goes too far and that Soviet advisors tried to caution the Afghan party leaders in their revolutionary enthusiasm. He argues that this Soviet exercise in nation-building “had little to do with the desire to spread communism [but r]ather (…) were motivated by a desire to stop the deteriorating situation” in Afghanistan and prevent it from turning towards the US. It was “composed of ‘off the shelf’ components, not a master plan […], founded on [Soviet/Marxist] ideas but improvised in practice.”[25]

Conclusion

In summary, the PDPA can be described as a wannabe communist party that from its establishment – not very openly, but clearly enough – declared its ambition to be part of the Soviet-led ‘socialist world system’. Before 1978, however, it was ideologically kept at arm’s length by the USSR and its allies. When it became a ruling party in that year, it followed an ‘embracing strategy’ that forced the USSR, bound to its ‘Breshnev doctrine’ that revolutionary change must be ‘irreversible’, to support its regime. First request to send Soviet troops to Afghanistan were already issues by Tarakay and Amin.

The 1979 intervention had two contrary effects on the relationship between the PDPA and the CPSU: The PDPA followed a strategy of further expanding its copycat Soviet model to present itself as an indispensable ally while the Soviets, realising that the social and political situation in Afghanistan was not ripe for a socialist development, cautioned the PDPA in its ‘revolutionary’ development and, under Gorbachov, concentrated on withdrawal, ready to sacrifice its erstwhile ally. But the fate of both was already inseparably linked to each other.

In reality and despite its rhetoric, the PDPA was far from being a wholesale ‘communist’ party. Many PDPA members were primarily driven by progressive ideas of a secular, anti-Islamist and not necessarily Marxist colour. In the framework of the East-West polarisation, the party could either link up with Washington or Moscow. How thin the communist furnish of the PDPA was, became apparent after the Soviet military occupation. It considerably raised anti-Soviet feelings that had not existed amongst most Afghans before 1978, due to rather successful Soviet economic assistance. Now, many in the ranks of the party and in particular most members of the Khalq faction that had been toppled developed anti-Soviet feelings. The same happened with the pro-Babrak Karmal sub-faction of Parcham after he was replaced by Najibullah and even stronger after the Soviet Union had made public its withdrawal decision. Then, the Karmalists accused the USSR of ‘selling out the Afghan revolution’.

The 1978-89 period is described as one of “constant disputes between Soviet and Afghan officials,” and of persistent obstruction, overt and covert, by the latter of the policies that Moscow was advocating. The story of Afghan-Soviet relations throughout this period is therefore one of the “inability of the Soviet leadership, despite Kabul’s reliance on its economic and military support, successfully to impress its policies on the PDPA leadership.”[26] In general, there was a deep gap between official proclamations and what even party leaders and members really thought and did. Many party and military cadres secretly supported the mujahedin.

In the result, although party and governmental institutions were shaped according to the Soviet model during most of the 1980s, ‘sovietisation’ had remained superficial. Most of what achieved here was rolled back after President Najibullah, from its official announcement in January 1987, had started his siasat-e ashti-ye melli, or national reconciliation policy. Its aim was to stabilise the regime by de-ideologicising it and broadening its base. This new course was encouraged, if not designed by the new Soviet leadership under Michail Gorbachov who had decided to end the occupation and strengthen Najibullah’s regime so that it could stand on its own feet both militarily and economically. This process culminated in July 1990 when, at its first – and last – congress since 1965, the PDPA was renamed Hezb-e Watan, Fatherland Party. Najibullah stated that it had been “a historic mistake” to have come under “a specific ideology.” In its new program, Hezb-e Watan committed itself to a “democracy based on a multi-party system.” The party – at least nominally – gave up its monopoly over state power and allowed other political parties to organise, offering that opportunity also to the mujahedin. However, almost the complete PDPA leadership was transferred to the new party and it tried to get away with a ‘leading role’ in disguise. For example, during the 1988 parliamentary elections it secured the majority of seats through a rather thinly camouflaged system of allocating seats to its mass organisations and allied leftist parties.

Despite the ideological disarmament, the institutions and the internal chain of control-and-command remained comparatively strong and centralised. Reporting was systematic and leadership centralised in the person of Dr Najibullah as chief of the state and the party. What was reported, however, often had not much to do with reality. There were large gaps in the system and factionalism that was never overcome undermined effective control.

Despite the omnipresence of Soviet advisors – many of them badly prepared to work in Afghanistan and to understand Afghans[27] –, Afghan leaders were able to maintain space for independent manoeuvering and decision-making. The room for this was provided by the notoriously segmented Afghan structures, factionalism and political power games as well as the institutional and personal rivalries amongst the different groups of Soviet advisor. In effect, the decision-making on the ground and subsequently the political responsibility was shared between Afghans and Soviets. There was no almighty Soviet domination.

[1] For more details on the PDPA’s early years and political parties in Afghanistan in general see: Thomas Ruttig, Islamists, Leftists – and a Void in the Center. Afghanistan’s Political Parties and where they come from (1902-2006), Kabul : Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung, 2006.

[2] There were at least two left-wing underground officer groups that prepared for a coup d’etat: the Revolutionary Army Organisation headed by A.S. Angar and ideologically led by Parcham’s chief ideologue Mir Akbar Khaibar, who untiringly tried to unite the party’s main factions until his killing in 1978. This group was founded in 1964, had 60 officers as members and later joined Parcham. The second group was the United Front of Afghanistan’s Communists headed by later Minister of Defense Abdul Qader. It was founded in 1974, had 600 members and 2000 sympathisers. Joachim Ludwig, Einige Probleme der Strategie und Politik der Demokratischen Volkspartei Afghanistans (DVPA) in der nationaldemokratischen Revolution in Afghanistan (1978 bis 1985), Dissertation, Berlin: Akademie für Gesellschaftwissenschaften beim ZK der SED, 1986, p. 32, 43, using ‘internal information from the PDPA‘.

[3] Usually, his name is written as ‘Taraki’, but Tarakay is the original Pashto form.

[4] Quoted from a German translation in: Wolfram Brönner, Afghanistan: Revolution und Konterrevolution, Frankfurt 1980, pp. 165-172.

[5] Khalq’s party program of 1966, German translation in: Karl-Heinrich Rudersdorf, Afghanistan – eine Sowjetrepublik?, Reinbek 1980, pp. 142-149.

[6] Quoted in: Neues Deutschland, Berlin (East), 6 Nov. 1978, p. 6.

[7] This term coined by Lenin was reserved by the ruling parties of the eastern bloc for themselves.

[8] See: Die DVPA – Triebkraft und Organisator des Kampfes des afghanischen Volkes für nationalen und sozialen Fortschritt, speech by Babrak Karmal, unofficial translation, GDR Embassy, Kabul, p. 1.

[9] Thomas T. Hammond, Red Flag over Afghanistan, Boulder 1984, pp. 151-152

[10] Anthony Arnold, Afghanistan’s Two-Party Communism: Parcham and Khalq, Stanford 1983, p. 99.

[11] Henry S. Bradsher, Afghan Communism and Soviet Intervention, Oxford 1999, p. 123.

[12] Yossef Bodansky, ‘Soviet Military Operations in Afghanistan’, in: Rosanne Klass (ed.), Afghanistan – The Great Game Revisited, New York 1987 (pp. 229-286), p. 237-238; Gilles Dorronsoro, Revolution Unending, London 2005, p. 173.

[13] See: Artemy Kalinovsky, The Blind Leading the Blind: Soviet Advisors, Counter-Insurgency and Nation-Building in Afghanistan, Cold War International History Project, Washington: Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars, Working Paper No. 60, January 2010.

[14] Arnold, Afghanistan’s Two-Party Communism…[see footnote 10], p. 99.

[15] Kalinovsky, The Blind Leading the Blind… [see footnote 13], p. 7.

[16] Bradsher, Afghan Communism… [see footnote 11], pp. 122-123.

[17] Cordovez/Harrison, Out of Afghanistan, New York and Oxford 1995, p. 91.

[18] See also: Kalinovsky, The Blind Leading the Blind… [see footnote 13], p. 3.

[19] Ludwig, Einige Probleme… [see footnote 2], p. 88

[20] Ludwig, Einige Probleme… [see footnote 2], pp. 87-88; Babrak Karmal, ‘Support of all people should be attracted’, Kabul New Times, 25-26.11. 1985.

[21] Prof. Dr. H[ans] Pogodda, Die Bedingungen und Voraussetzungen zur Verwirklichung der Novemberthesen des Revolutionsrates der DR Afghanistan, paper of the GDR group of higher education experts at Kabul University, Kabul 1986, pp. 83-84.

[22] Ludwig, Einige Probleme… [see footnote 2], p.74, 110; Antonio Giustozzi, War, Politics and Society in Afghanistan, 1978-1992, London 2000, p.251. The theoretical strength of the army and the border troops was 115,000 men.

[23] Giustozzi, War, Politics and Society… [see footnote 22], pp. 98, 266; Kalinovsky, The Blind Leading the Blind… [see footnote 13], p. 14.

[24] Cordovez/Harrison, Out of Afghanistan [see footnote 17], p. 28.

[25] Kalinovsky, The Blind Leading the Blind… [see footnote 13], p. 29.

[26] Fred Halliday and Zahir Tanin, ‘The Communist Regime in Afghanistan 1978-1992: Institutions and Conflicts’, Europe-Asia Studies, Vol. 50, No. 8 (Dec 1998), p. 5.

[27] Kalinovsky, The Blind Leading the Blind… [see footnote 13], pp. 4-9.

(1) In 2014, AAN asked both of the runner off candidates whether they would publish the AIHRC’s Conflict Mapping Report.

This is what Ghani said (here the full interview):

I don’t have any problem with publishing. What I want is a genuine Afghan reconciliation process. We’re tired of blood. We need to reach closure.

Q: And you mean reconciliation both for pre-2001 and after?

Yes. The social fabric needs nurturing. It’s not going to be done with cheap slogans. I reached out to General Dostum and he to me, as a sign that we want genuine reconciliation. That we accept each other. The politics of exclusion has not worked. We have tried this and it failed. 1978 [the year of the Saur Revolution], there were not more than a 1000 leftists in this country. Within three months, there was not a male member of my family who was not in prison. Then 1992 [when Kabul fell to the mujahedin], what hopes did we not have? And within weeks, people were resorting to tanks and guns. It was as though children had suddenly acquired toys…

We are wounded… We need to weave back this body politic, to make it whole. Everyone understands that we are necessary for each other and that is what is going to bring genuine peace. If you exclude everybody who’s been in conflict, who remains? The next generation will move on. But political power is in the hands of people who have engaged in conflict and war. I will play the role of critical mediator whose hands are free of both blood and corruption.

Abdullah did not know about the report and was much more hesitant about publishing it (here his full interview):

One has to see it. The important thing about human rights issues is, if it’s from one angle and politically oriented against one or two groups, that will add to the problems rather than addressing them. But as long as it addresses the problem and helps the foundation for the future. [This would be the] principle [for deciding], but I haven’t seen it.

Q You won’t have seen it… but it’s a massive piece of research…

The research might be important. At the same time, the AIHRC has a lot of duties to carry out and so has our justice system to deal with the atrocities being carried out today… So I think this is the priority for the people of Afghanistan, I have no doubt in my mind.

Q Do you think it’s dangerous to start talking about the past. General Dostum did raise it in this election – he apologised for the suffering in the war.

If that was all that needed was to call a few people and say, apologise, apologise, apologise and then carry on with this mess today, I don’t think that serves the purpose. Issues of human rights and women’s rights are serious issues in this country. It has to take us forward, move us forward, rather than dig us further in the past. That is something of a principle to be used.

Q: South Africa, Northern Ireland, Argentina, they’ve all recognised that, in order to go forward, you have to at least look at what’s happened.

I agree, but at the same time, it has to help cure those wounds of the past, rather than freshening them. That is something one has to balance it against.

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

An April Day That Changed Afghanistan 3: The legacy of the Saur Revolution’s war crimes

Mon, 30/04/2018 - 04:00

The coup d’etat that brought the People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan (PDPA) was a watershed for Afghanistan, driving it into a conflict from which it has yet to recover and ushering in a whole new level of violence by the state against its citizens. Forced disappearances, the routine use of torture for punishment as well as to gain confessions, and massacres of civilians all marked the bloody period from 27 April 1978 until 24 December 1979 when the Soviet Union invaded. The veteran Human Rights Watch Afghanistan expert, Patricia Gossman*, here looks at those crimes and their legacy.

This is the third part of a mini-series looking at the Saur Revolution and its consequences. Part 1 looked at what happened and why there was a coup. In Part 2, we presented the stories of eight Afghans who were alive at the time, their memories of the day itself and the impact the coup had on their lives. Part 4 will examine the relationship between the PDPA and the Soviets after the Soviet invasion of December 1979.

In 1978, there was no Twitter or Facebook to spread the news. Reporting from India a day after the events, the New York Times described the coup as “bloody and violent”, but information on the atrocities that unfolded over subsequent months trickled out very slowly. There were few journalists and no human rights groups on the ground to document what happened. This may be one reason why, even today, it comes as a surprise to many people to discover that serious war crimes in Afghanistan did not begin with the Soviet invasion of December 1979, but 20 months earlier.

While neither the Daud regime, nor the government under Zaher Shah were noteworthy for respecting human rights, growing demands for greater political openness had produced a number of reforms. They were limited and often short-lived, but there was some measure of free speech and freedom of assembly. In April 1978, the PDPA party leadership under Nur Muhammad Taraki and Hafizullah Amin killed President Daud Khan and most of his family and then embarked on an ambitious, but ill-planned effort to transform Afghanistan virtually overnight into a modern socialist state. The violence perpetrated by the state was extreme, indiscriminate and widespread

(For a detailed account of the political dynamics in the years leading up to the coup, see AAN’s earlier dispatch.)

Unprecedented Violence: Secret Executions and Forced Disappearances

Taraki launched the coup as what he called a short cut to “the destiny of the people of Afghanistan.” (1) The fact that the Khalqis had virtually no support base outside their immediate membership partially explains the extreme violence of the months following the coup. Amin (who had studied at the University of Wisconsin and Columbia University in the 1960s where he was exposed to leftist student politics) was the driving force of the campaign. Taraki, his mentor, called the Khalqis “the children of history,” which according to scholar, Anthony Hyman, illustrated “the almost messianic faith shared by many Khalqis that they had a special role to play as agents of modernisation in Afghanistan.” (2) It was clear that Amin saw himself in that role.

To carry out this sweeping transformation, the Khalq leaders set about eliminating all political rivals and those they considered to be obstacles to their efforts to transform the Afghan state, including anyone who had served in the governments of Zaher Shah and Daud, mullahs, pirs and other religious elites, tribal leaders, Maoists and other leftists outside the PDPA, professionals of every kind and other members of the educated class other than those who had joined the Khalq party and the leaders of various ethnic communities. Abandoning the brief rapprochement with Parcham, the other faction of the PDPA, Taraki and Amin purged the party of leading Parcham members, executing at least hundreds, imprisoning others and exiling some as ambassadors abroad.

American scholar Louis Dupree, who was living in Kabul at the time of the 1978 coup, spoke of “thousands” being arrested from all targeted groups in Kabul alone in the months after the coup, (3) the vast majority of whom were secretly killed. In most cases, the families never received the bodies for burial or any official acknowledgement of their deaths. Many were killed inside Pul-e Charkhi prison and buried in mass graves there. General Nabi Azimi, a Parchami who would become deputy defense minister and commander of the Kabul garrison under Najibullah, wrote that the regime “arrested too many ordinary people, clergymen, intellectuals … and put them in Pul-e Charkhi prison or executed them … without trial on dark nights and threw them into holes already prepared.” (4) Amnesty International reported in 1979 that it had “received a substantial number of allegations that political prisoners [were] … subjected to torture. … some prisoners [were] paralyzed and that others died as a result of torture.” (5) The prison was vastly overcrowded with some 12,000 prisoners in 1979. (6) Many died from disease from poor food and sanitation.

In 1986, scholar Olivier Roy suggested that throughout the country in those 20 months, between 50,000 and 100,000 people were forcibly disappeared, saying then that “the story of this wave of repression has yet to be written.” (7) It remains a largely untold story, although the few available accounts give a sense of the scale of killing. Dr Sima Samar, chair of the Afghan Independent Human Rights Commission, said of the time: “Any Khalqi could kill anybody.” (8) Some accounts of people whose relatives remain disappeared and mourned to this day can be found in AAN’s oral history of the ‘Saur Revolution’, here.

A UN report mapping the major patterns of human rights violations from the war’s beginning was meant to be published in January 2005, but was deemed too sensitive for official release (see AAN analysis here). It included this description:

[T]he regime … tortured captives not solely as an interrogation tactic, but to humiliate, punish, and annihilate them … The tortures and executions in Pul-i Charkhi prison became part of the legends of this time, which form part of the Afghan national memory.

The new intelligence agency Taraki had created, De Afghanistan Gato Satunki Edara (AGSA) (in Pashto, the Administration for the Protection of the Interests of Afghanistan) was principally responsible for carrying out the arrests and executions. It was headed by Assadullah Sarwary. President Taraki set the tone for its operations, announcing in March 1979, “Those who plot against us in the dark will disappear in the dark.”(9) Sarwary remains the only former PDPA official from this period to ever face trial in Afghanistan. Taken into custody by Shura-ye Nazar forces when they entered Kabul in April 1992, Sarwary was detained in Panjshir until he was brought to Kabul in 2005. In February 2006, he was tried in a rushed proceeding, found guilty of conspiracy against the state and mass killings and sentenced to death. An appeals court reduced the sentence to 20 years. Sarwary was released in January 2017. (See AAN reporting here)

Resistance and Repression in the Provinces

The tactics used by the Taraki-Amin government to crush any opposition sparked resistance throughout the country. The Herat uprising was the largest such challenge to the regime at the time, demonstrating the extent of popular resistance even in the cities. In March 1979, military commanders, including Ismael Khan, mutinied and began providing arms to resistance fighters in Herat city. They held the city for a week before the government, with the support of Soviet bombers, crushed the rebellion, killing possibly several thousand people. According to the Afghanistan Justice Project, the dead were buried in mass graves between Takht Saffar and Bagh-e Millat, an area locals thereafter called the area “the place of obscure martyrs.” (10)

The Khalq government also relied on violence to impose its reform agenda outside the cities. In an incident described in the 2005 Afghanistan Justice Project report, local authorities called the men of a Kandahar village in Dand district to come to the village school, and then asked the assembled villagers to identify the local landlords and any others resisting land reform measures. Those so identified were taken away. One witness described the scene:

Then they asked, “who has said women should wear the chador?” Again, some admitted saying it, and others were accused of doing so by some in the crowd. They were taken away too. Then those who had been accused were put into three big trucks and taken to the governor’s office. The relatives came there searching for their men. In the evening 29 of them were killed. Some were released, and others remained there. My brother was held there, and for a time we could bring him food. When Amin came to power [in September 1979], the prisoners were taken away and we never saw them again. (11)

The regime undertook military operations—which involved mass arrests and summary executions—in areas where resistance was strongest. Kunar was one such area. In early 1979, organized resistance to the PDPA had gained considerable ground throughout the province. By March the mujahedin had captured all the district centres, and were launching sustained attacks on the provincial capital, Assadabad. The besieged provincial personnel requested military assistance from Kabul, which deployed the 444 Commando Force commanded by Sadeq Alamyar. (12) His forces trapped some of the retreating mujahedin within Assadabad’s outskirts, in particular the village of Kerala, and moved in for a clean-up operation that included reprisals against the local population. The troops summoned all the men and older boys to an area of open ground on the river bank, next to the bridge which links Kerala to Assadabad. They then opened fire, and afterwards used a bulldozer to dig a trench to bury the bodies. The main mass grave is still visible in this location. (13)

In October 2015, the Netherlands police arrested Alamyar in Rotterdam, where he had been living since the early 1990s, as a suspect in the mass killing of men and boys in Kerala on 20 April 1979. According to the official statement, Dutch police made the arrest on the basis of a criminal complaint by relatives of those killed. The statement alleged that Alamyar had been head of a commando unit that had “dragged large numbers of men and boys from their homes and … killed them.” (See AAN reporting on the announcement here) The statement included a call for:

[P]ersons who were present in or around Kerala, Dam Kelai or Assadabad on or around 20 April 1979 and who are witnesses of events relating to the investigation to contact the Netherlands National Police. Persons who were present at the time as government troops or government officials may have information that is especially important for the Dutch investigation. These categories of persons are therefore urged to provide such information to the Dutch Police.

Alamyar was released from custody, although the investigation remains open, pending any additional information coming to light.

The Kerala massacre was the largest mass killing of the early years of the war. Indeed, that record would remain until the late 1990s when Jombesh and Hezb-e Wahdat forces in and around Mazar-e Sharif and Dasht-e Laili killed over 3000 Taliban prisoners in May-June 1997 and then, a year later, when the Taleban killed thousands of civilians, mainly Hazaras, after they captured Mazar in August 1998.

The Legacy: Cycles of Violence

After the Soviet invasion in December 1979, the new regime attempted to count the missing, but gave up as the numbers climbed over 25,000. (14) Five years ago, the Dutch government published an official list of 5000 names it had obtained in the course of an investigation into a war crimes suspect—a ‘death list’ of those detained and marked for execution at the time (see AAN reporting here). It was the only official acknowledgement any families ever received, but it represented a small fraction of those who were killed. I recently discussed this period with an Afghan journalist who grew up listening to stories about his grandfather, who was detained and tortured after the coup, and others who were among the disappeared. He lamented how few of his peers in Afghanistan know the history of those early years, though they live with its legacy in a conflict that continues to this day.

The PDPA’s reforms and the brutal way it imposed them launched a resistance movement that included people from a wide spectrum of Afghan society. As widespread repression prompted mutinies in army garrisons across the country, the imminent disintegration of the armed forces ultimately prompted the Soviet Union to invade to prevent the pro-Soviet state from collapsing.

Millions of Afghans were then displaced inside the country and millions more fled to Iran and Pakistan as refugees, a pattern of forced migration echoed many times over the next few decades as war washed over lands, villages and cities. The forced mass migration in the early 1980s fractured social ties which had already been weakened by the PDPA’s killing of many traditional leaders. As armed resistance mounted, authority increasingly belonging to commanders, those who could win the loyalty of armed fighters. Their power and influence has remained to this day: because of war, they emerged as military and political leaders.

In every part of Afghanistan, powerhas changed hands multiple times in the last four decades of war, pitting different alliances of armies and militia forces against each other and leaving Afghanistan open to manipulation from outside as the various forces sought foreign backing. The cycles of violence and retribution triggered by the bloody violence of the Saur revolutionaries, in hindsight, can be seen to have set Afghanistan on a course of seemingly endless war. That conflict has now consumed generations.

(1) Edwards, citing Taraki’s statement in the Kabul Times, August 16, 1978.

(2) Anthony Hyman, Afghanistan under Soviet Domination, 1964–91(New York: St. Martin’s Press), p92.

(3) Louis Dupree, “Red Flag over the Hindu Kush,” American Universities Field Staff Reports (1980).

(4) Nabi Azimi, “Ordu wa Siyasat Dar Seh Daha-ye Akhir-e Afghanistan” (“Army and Politics in the Last Three Decades in Afghanistan”) (Peshawar: Marka-e Nashrati Maiwand, 1998), p167. Cited in Afghanistan Justice Project, Casting Shadows: War Crimes and Crimes against Humanity: 1978-2001, p12.

(5) Amnesty International, Afghanistan: Violations of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms, pp15-16.

(6) Amnesty International, p9.

(7) Olivier Roy, Islam and Resistance in Afghanistan (Cambridge University Press, 1986), pp95,

(8) Barnett Rubin interview with Sima Samar, 2004, cited in the UN Mapping Report, p12.

(9) Hyman, p108, citing TheKabul TimesMay 3, 1979. After Amin overthrew and assassinated Taraki in September 1979, he renamed AGSA the Kargari Istikhbarati Muassisaas (KAM), the Workers Intelligence Agency.

(10) Afghanistan Justice Project, p21.

(11) Afghanistan Justice Project, pp17-19.

(12) Afghanistan Justice Project, pp17-19

(13) Afghanistan Justice Project, p19.

(14) UN Mapping Report, p24, citing the UN report on the situation of human rights in Afghanistan, E/CN.4/1986/24.

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

An April Day that Changed Afghanistan 2: Afghans remember the ‘Saur Revolution’

Fri, 27/04/2018 - 04:00

It is forty years, today, since the coup d’etat which brought the leftist People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan (PDPA) to power. That event has had far-reaching consequences, plunging the country into a conflict from which it has yet to emerge and changing the course of almost every Afghan’s life. AAN has been speaking to a range of people about their memories of that day and how the coup affected them personally. They include students and workers, PDPA cadre and those who went on to become mujahedin or refugees, those who rejoiced at news of the coup and those whose close family members were subsequently disappeared (interviews by the AAN team, compiled by Kate Clark).

This is the second in a special series looking at the Saur Revolution and its consequences. Part 1 describes the events, causes and consequences of the coup – An April Day That Changed Afghanistan: Four decades after the leftist takeover. Part 3 will look at the war crimes of the pre-Soviet invasion PDPA regimes and Part 4 will look at the relationship between the PDPA and the Soviets.

Also today, AAN is publishing its 18th Thematic Dossier “The PDPA and the Soviet Intervention” which brings together our writing on the coup, the Soviet intervention, the war crimes of that era, and the PDPA and its leftist descendants.

AAN team members interviewed eight Afghans, three men and five women, who remember the Saur revolution, asking them the same set of questions. Not all of the interviewees answered every question.

Do you remember the spring of 1978? How old were you and where were you? What were you doing at that time?

1 Schoolboy, Takhar

I was 15 years old and in 11thclass in Rustaq district, Takhar province. My brother (who is now in Canada) and I used to cycle to school every day (a half hour bike ride, saving us a two hour walk).

2 University student, Kabul

I was around 20-21 years old, a student, newly admitted to Kabul university

3 Schoolgirl, Kabul 1

I was 11 years old, in 5thgrade at Malalai School which is opposite the old Ministry of Interior in Kabul.

4 Islamic Activist from Kabul, in Tehran

I was around 20 and in Tehran in Iran. I’d finished school and done the university exam and was waiting to study sociology there, but that never happened. I was also already an activist and associated with an underground Muslim organisation in Kabul.

5 Carpet seller, Kunduz

I had my own business, selling rugs, at that time.

6 Surveyor, Helmand

I was in Gereshk district in Helmand province. I was 23 years old and an employee of a survey group in the Kajaki Dam project.

7 Civil servant and PDPA activist, Kabul

I was about 22, working at the National Academy of Science in Kabul and responsible for maintenance and procurement.

8 Schoolgirl, Kabul II

I was 14 years old, in class seven.

When did you realise/first hear that the Saur coup had taken place? Did you, personally, see or hear anything, either on the day or immediately before or just after? Did you do anything? What did you think about the coup at the time?

1 Schoolboy, Takhar

Each morning, at 8 o’ clock, the school took an attendance register. We’d sing the National Anthem and then go into class. On 7thof Saur 1357 (27 April 1978), we all stood in line as usual, but neither national anthem was sung, or register taken. Instead, the school principle, Abdul Hadi Khan, (1) and the other teachers stood in front of us, delivering propaganda: “Today is the revolution,” he said, “The dictatorial regime of Daud Khan had been overthrown.”

We could hear Radio Afghanistan from a window in the school playing revolutionary songs and a repeated statement from Aslam Watanjar [the army general whose troops took control of Kabul and who announced the revolution]: “The Revolution of 7thSaur has been victorious and the armed forces of the country are in control. We congratulate the people of Afghanistan.” The teachers told us to clap and then go into class. We didn’t learn anything that day. After only a few hours, we went home. My father asked why I’d come home early and I explained it all to him. “God bless us,” he said. “The future is not good.”

2 University student, Kabul

I heard about the coup on the radio. When it happened, I was happy, but things didn’t turn out the way we expected. We had felt suffocated during Daud Khan’s rule, even before [Mir Akbar] Khyber [editor of the Parcham newspaper, he was assassinated on 17 April] was imprisoned (see footnote 2 and part 1 of this series of dispatches. People felt there was a spy in every family. Their voices were strangled in their throats. When the Saur coup d’etat happened, we were happy. We thought it would bring about social change in favour of the poor strata of society – Afghanistan had farmers, but not a working class in the sense that Khalq and Parcham conceived of them. [There were fewer than 100,000 industrial workers in the country at the time.] But the country was occupied by the Soviets and in Kabul, we had a puppet regime. I became a member of the Students Association, which was an anti-Soviet movement and included students from different tendencies (both Ikhwani and leftist).

3 Schoolgirl, Kabul I

Classes were dismissed a little earlier, I think, but I cannot remember all the details.

When I got home, our main worry was my father because both of my brothers and I were already home from school. My father was an army officer, the head of the logistics department of the Ministry of Interior and my mother was very worried until he came home – very late. I suppose that, being kids, we didn’t understand the details until later.

In the following two days, things became clearer and our parents, especially my father explained the situation. We understood that President Daud whom we liked and loved (because my Dad used to talk well of him all the time) had been killed savagely, along with his family. The entire family was basically slaughtered by ‘the atheists’, we learned – those who didn’t like Islam and were against all Muslims was what we were talking about at school. None of my friends at school spoke well of them.

Since President Daud was well-liked by us all, we hated what was happening and also scared for our lives. President Daud had been famous for his achievements during the five years of his presidency. And on the other side, President Taraki, a man from rural Ghazni, was going to reside in the Presidential Palace. How sad.

Islamic 4 Islamic Activist from Kabul, in Tehran

As usual, I’d gone to buy a newspaper. [The coup] was headline news and Afghanistan was on everyone’s lips. [That day] some were worried, some interested and some were looking happy. I bought a couple of papers and returned to my room and turned on my radio.

In a strange way, I was not unhappy at all. Afghanistan had been suffering from one-family rule for so long. Politically speaking, in those days, everyone was thinking of and waiting for fundamental social change. Constitutional monarchy had failed and the first republic had done no better as Daud was an infamous dictator. Economically and politically, Afghanistan was in a bad shape. People hated Daud, but no-one new how to get rid of him or how the change might take place.

5 Carpet seller, Kunduz

Before I left the house for work, my father told me he’d heard that the Khalq Party had overthrown Daud Khan. I immediately went back to my room and switched on the radio. Radio Afghanistan was broadcasting unusual programmes. All my family gathered together to listen. We found out that Daud Khan was no longer in power. When I went out, I saw groups of people around our area, all talking about the revolution and how Nur Muhammad Taraki had come to power.

6 Surveyor, Helmand

I found out about the Saur coup that same day in the afternoon. There were many anthems on Kabul radio. I went with one of my friends to the district centre to find out what had happened. When we got there, people told us there’d been a coup and President Daud Khan had been martyred. Maalim Zaher, a Khalqi, had been appointed as district governor. The Khalqiswere happy. They were dancing. Me and all my friends were very sad, though, and thought, “The country is gone.”

7 Civil servant and PDPA activist, Kabul

I well remember the day of the Saur Revolution. I wrote two poems, one for the republican flag and this one, for Republican Day:

These are republican days, full of happiness

I cannot sleep because of happiness and delight

Everywhere, there is dance and music

What beautiful nights they are when you see others free

Young people are making efforts for the wellbeing of the country

They are dancing and laughing, delighting in their happiness

Wake up [the poet tells himself, mentioning his own name] and burn down the house of ignorance

See! Every youth competes with the other

8 Schoolgirl, Kabul II

I was going to go to school in the morning with my four sisters when our neighbours’ daughters told us they were staying at home. Their father had told them to – giving no reason – and told them to tell us to stay at home too. He was working in the government and after the Saur Revolution, he got a big position in the government, which means he was pro-revolution, but we didn’t know if he was Khalqi or Parchami. My mother hesitated, but kept us at home.

At the end of that day, about 4 o’ clock, jets flew very fast and violently over our house – we were living in Tapa-ye Bibi Mahru. It was the first time I’d seen such fast aircraft. They made a terrific noise. We all went up onto the roof to see what was happening. The jets disappeared and then, after a few minutes returned, both times flying over the Presidential Palace, the Arg. The third time they flew over the Arg, there was a big boom. It shook our houses as well as the nearby areas, but we didn’t know they were targeting the palace. Then, things became calm again. When my older brother got home that day, at the same time, Kabul Radio stopped broadcasting. This left us in confusion. No-one had known anything beforehand and nor did we understand what was happening, but it was actually the start of the coup.

Had you been aware of the People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan PDPA (or Khalq) before the coup?

1 Schoolboy, Takhar

In school, over the previous few years, there’d been four parties recruiting among the students: (PDPA) which included Parcham and Khalq, Shola-ye Jawed Party (Eternal Flame – the Maoists), Settam-e Melli Party (Against]National Oppression Party, which was pro the rights of non-Pashtuns) and Ikhwan ul-Muslimin (Muslim Brothers – a colloquial name for Jawanan-e Muslimin, later Jamiat-e Islami). Settam was particular active.

I wasn’t a member of any political party, although I was interested in the Islamic party because one of my teachers, Sayed Abdullah who taught physics and maths, was Ikhwani and he was very intelligent and had high morals. He was later arrested by the Khalq and executed in Pul-e Charkhi. All of our teachers were members of one the other parties, but they didn’t have good morals. They insulted God in public and said he didn’t exist. They insulted our fathers, ancestors, elders and scholars. They had no respect for Afghan culture.

I didn’t go to listen to Sayed Abdullah’s lessons about the Muslim Brothers because my father was against political parties. He thought that both the Islamists and the leftists were harmful and would ruin Afghanistan; they didn’t know how to govern the country, he said, and they were cruel, the mercenaries of foreigners. He’d gone to Kabul several times because his nephew was an army officer and he’d had friends high-up in the Zaher Khan and Daud Khan governments, including the ministers of education and defence. My father knew them and had a clear view of politics. I acted on my father’s advice and right up to the end, I did not become a formal member of any political party.

Some months before the coup, my father had come from Kabul, saying his nephew said the Khalqis had decided to mount a coup. He was worried about the future and that his nephew would be killed.

2 University student, Kabul

Yes, I was aware of the PDPA before the coup. I had studied in Aysha Durani High School and that area, Pul-e Bagh-e Umumi, was the epicentre of demonstrations waged by different political parties such as Khalq and Parcham and Islamic groups. I came to know about the PDPA through their demonstrations.

4 Islamic Activist from Kabul, in Tehran

Of course I was. From very early on, probably from when I was 14 or 15 years old, I had been associated with an underground Muslim organisation in Kabul, the Sazman-e Mujahedin-e Melli (National Mujahedin Organization) (3). It was not as famous as the Muslim Brotherhood (Ikhwan ul-Muslimin). People like Qasim Akhgar [a writer, political and civil society activist and a freelance journalist from Wazirabad in Kabul] was also a member. Our house in Kabul was one of the few centres of political activities. Perhaps, it was the first of its kind as my father was also involved in politics and had experienced Deh Mazang prison in Kabul. You could meet many famous figures of the day in my home such as Allama Sayed Ismail Balkhi, a religious scholar, poet and revolutionary theorist from Balkhab district of Sar-e Pul province, who’d begun his activity against Zahir Shah in 1935 (1314).

Of course, we knew a lot of PDPA people and [had seen] its two branches fighting each other in the streets of Kabul. Years before the coup, we’d heard rumours and predictions that some kind of change was in the air. As Muslim activists, we were concerned that the possibility of a communist coup was much greater because the PDPA had cooperated with Daud in his ‘White Coup’ of 1973. Because of all this, I was not surprised at all when the coup happened, but still it was hard to digest. I thought the Soviet Union had interfered.

6 Surveyor, Helmand

I was well aware of the PDPA. We had been discussing materialism and idealism every day in school and even in the classroom. There were rightest and leftists both among teachers and students.

7 Civil servant and PDPA activist

I knew various people who later became incredible members of the revolution and part of the government. I had close links with the Central Committee of the revolutionaries and was part of the group around the committee, although I held no position. The people I knew would later get leading roles. They included Anahita Ratebzad, Babrak Karmal, Suleiman Laeq, Muhammaddin Zhwak, Barak Shafeyi, Nur Ahmad Nur, Zahor Ufoq and Saleh Muhammad Zeray.

I also remember the murder of Mir Akbar Khyber, whom we called Ustad (teacher) whose death played an important role in igniting the revolution against Daud Khan. [He describes finding Khyber’s body and helping carry it to his home in Microrayan, taking part in the funeral despite government threats. For more detail, see footnote 2.]

What did you do subsequently?

1 Schoolboy, Takhar

After the coup, at school, we were only taught for maybe about five hours a week. The rest was all marching and shouting slogans. Experienced teachers were sent to jail and less experienced ones appointed, non-professionals, party cadres – some were illiterate. Anyone who joined the PDPA youth organisation could pass the exams. No merit was needed, only youth organisation membership. The level of education deteriorated to a very low level. The enthusiasm and passion of the pupils for education gradually faded away, and in the end, completely disappeared.

There were also weekly and monthly dances with school boys and girls and teachers; many people gathered to watch. The boys had to wear trousers. It’s a very traditional rural area, but there were five girls from Kabul who danced and also some of the local girls. I didn’t dance. I was too shy.

Land reform began, and people’s private property was given away and distributed. Dissatisfaction increased day by day. Teachers and students, scholars, elders and landlords were arrested and taken to prison. My father was scared of imprisonment. This didn’t happen, but they stole our property and gave it to others. He sold his animals and flocks at cheap prices and hid the money because he was afraid his animals and flocks would be confiscated and given away. At night, my father cut down his trees and sold the timber at cheap prices because he was afraid the government would take it too. People who got land were more pro-government.

There was no radio in our village or the neighbouring village. One and half hour’s away, my mother’s cousin had a Japanese radio. We went there two or three times a week to hear the news, listening to it at night to get information about the political situation: news from Kabul, but more often BBC news and sometimes news from Iran and Pakistan. Later, listening to the BBC and other non-state radio was made a crime you could get imprisoned for. That is why we listened to my mother’s cousin’s radio at night and with the volume turned low.

The PDPA government set up committees in the villages, a peasants’ committee and a party committee, which had a secretary and three members. They acted as spies and people were very much afraid of them and hid their secrets. The atmosphere was suffocating.

The three main officials in Rustaq district after the coup were Abdul Majid Eshchi, secretary of the Khalq Party (most powerful), Muhammad Jan from Logar, the chief of police, and Abdullah Basharyar, the district governor. In late 1357 (winter of 1978/9), they tried to rouse the people by saying the Shia in Hazarajat and some of the border areas, in Pul-e Khumri, Dara-ye Suf and some parts of Kunar, had been incited to rebellion by Iran. We call on you, they said, the Muslims, to help the national army fight these rebels. 3000-5000 people were gathered in the district centre, including us school children. We stood there for two to three hours – we’d been forced to go by the principle to swell the crowd.

A great number of people decided to go and took up arms against the Shia. I saw four of the big trucks used for carrying stones, each full of people – 40 or 50 each – leave Rustaq. Bandits and criminals had believed the government officials’ message: the Shia are kufar [unbelievers] and it is valid for you to take their property, but their heads should be brought to the government.

In late 1358 (1979/80), it was also reported that the people in the districts of Ragh and Shahr-e Bozorg in Badakhshan were rising up and killing the Khalqi people. Muslims had freed these districts. Our district neighboured them and, in turn, Rustaq was freed in one night. The district governor, police chief, a number of soldiers and a girl who was an active member of the PDPA were all killed. And the people set fire to the district headquarters. The number of insurgents reached about 1000 people that night.

My father and I were with the insurgents, but we were not involved in the night attack because the battle had ended by the time we got to the district centre. When I arrived, I saw the flames coming out of the government offices. Party secretary Eshchi and Police Chief Muhammad Jan had been killed. District Governor Basharyar had escaped. His house was far from district centre. Someone said he’s at his home, so they went – about 3000-4000 people – and got into his house. He was hiding in a barn, but they killed his son, who was still a boy and couldn’t speak. I saw the people with axes, pickaxes and spades kill him. I had a sword from the English times – Dad had three along with an antique rifle, but I didn’t use it.

Then, in three days’ time, they organised the uprisers into six groups of several hundred each and they went to Chah Ab, Yang-e Qala, Dasht-e Qala and Khwaja Ghar districts. I didn’t go because my father didn’t let me, but some of my classmates went and told me what happened, how one after another, those districts fell and then even the provincial centre. The uprising reached Kunduz province, but at that time the Russians had flown into Afghanistan and also brought tanks through Tajikistan to the Amu Darya river and Sher Khan Bandar – but nobody knew. It was winter.

One of my classmates, Mumin, who was later killed, saw the Russian tanks hidden under rice straw and branches near the Amu Darya. When the insurgents approached them, they were massacred. It was in the area of Qatar Balagh in Emam Saheb district. 360 people only from my district were killed, along with a large numbers of others, including from Badakhshan. They are still buried in the area.

Within a week, the Russians, in collaboration with PDPA’s Khalq and Parcham had taken the areas lost to the insurgents. The people fled to mountains. Armed war began. I had stayed on at school for almost two years after the Saur Coup, but when the Russians came to our country on 6 Jadi (27 December 1979), I went to war against them. I was a commander. I never had a membership of any faction. I was just a military commander of the jihadist parties.

2 University student, Kabul

We were living in Khair Khana in northern Kabul at that time and I remember that, one day, around one year [sic] after the coup when the Soviets invaded the country, I was going to Kabul University and saw the Soviet tanks, in the Juy-e Shir area. I was a fearless and intrepid girl and hurled stones at the tanks. We waged a lot of demonstrations. [This apparently refers to the 3 Hut (22 February 1980) uprising in Kabul – see this AAN dispatch.]

Five people, including my fiancé and brothers, were imprisoned in raids on our home. My little brother was beaten and released after just a week because he was so young. My older brother was released only after a year.

3 Schoolgirl, Kabul I

We were more careful in how we talked at school because we knew the new regime and the political party in power were already listening and trying to identify their enemies and punishing them very quickly. The prisons were full of people, families, children – mainly the elite of Kabul. But, together with thousands of other school pupils, I became active in joining and at times helping the demonstrations against the government and holding strikes inside school.

My father was suspended from work, so he was at home for a few years until he asked for early retirement. The government had asked him to work for them, but he didn’t want to be part of such a government.

Some of my relatives and a few close friends of my dad were arrested and disappeared. A few years later (under Babrak Karmal when Dr Najib was in charge of the Afghan intelligence agency, the KhAD, from 1980 to 1985), my older brother, who was 17 years old, was imprisoned. He was a member of Jamiat-e Islami, studying in the Amani school. He was leading a group of 24 other students. For that, he was given six years in prison, but since he was a minor, they reduced it to three. He wasn’t a real mujahed. They were just kids meeting and talking against the government.

For the first time in my life I saw my father crying, seeing his young son in the prison he’d built. (He’d earlier been the commander of the Public Works Department of the Ministry of Defence which had built famous dams of the country and any other large government structures, including the Pul-e Charkhi prison.)

When they imprisoned my 17 year old brother, he denied membership of any political party, but they used horrible types of physical torture on him, some of which he told us about later. He was told that if he didn’t confess, they would come and rape his sister – me – and then kill all of his family. He is still suffering from that trauma. He lives in [names country] now and has never visited Afghanistan again and never will do.

Women that were imprisoned were tortured, raped and then either killed or released. Some of them talked about it and some we would heard from other people. The staff of the KhAD prisons were also bragging about it in public. Quite a lot of those women either died as a result of torture or later killed themselves. A young woman I became friends with at university, much later, when Dr Najib was president, told me a little. She would go quiet and start weeping quietly every time she touched on her time in prison. She never told me the details, but one day she didn’t come to university and her relative told me she’d killed herself. The family didn’t even hold a large and proper funeral for her. They buried her quietly. She was very strong when she spoke to me. She was trying to recruit me to their political party because she had seen me talking in public and arguing with the KhAD people at university. I was threatened a few times and then I was afraid, so I knew how far I could go – only as far as they would not imprison me.

5 Carpet seller, Kunduz

Khalq Party supporters started to promote the red flag and deliver speeches in schools and in pro-Khalq gatherings in the city. Shortly after, red flags were put in government offices. It was calm, but everyone was worried about insecurity. Some people in our area (east of Kunduz city) didn’t allow their kids to go outside or even go to school for some days. After a few weeks, Khalq members, together with the police, started to search particular houses. I remember a few influential people from our area were arrested and accused of opposing the revolution. After that, the house searches, arrests and detentions continued until the end of Babrak Karmal’s regime.

6 Surveyor, Helmand

A week after the coup, they started arresting people. Senator Habibullah Khan from Helmand, along with 12 other khans(tribal elders), was arrested and taken to Kabul by plane. They never arrived. Instead, they were thrown from the plane and were killed. The Khalqis immediately started distributing peoples’ lands, especially those of the khans. Farmers, who were organised Khalqis, got six acres of cultivable land. The same month, Mawlawi Khateb captured Musa Qala district and killed many Khalqis. Later, Kajaki district also became restive.

One of my old classmates who was a Khalqi, Hassan Folad, – we were calling him “Tor” (black in Pashto) – became the manager of Customs and Revenues. He married a girl by force. One day I went to his office and called him “Tor,”to his face and he got very angry with me, “You do not understand humanity,” he said “You think you’re a Sardar(a khan) but you’re perfidious.” I told him “You deceive yourself. You think this Khalqi government will prevail. There is still a long way for you to reach your goals.”

The next day, a friend who was working for AGSA [the name of the Khalqi intelligence agency] told me to disappear or I would be arrested. I went to Kabul, but was so bored I came back to Helmand after a month. I told my father I should become a soldier in the government because there was no other alternative – my father was a khanand we were being targeted.

I became a soldier in Paktia province. There, I spoke against President Hafizullah Amin [Taraki’s deputy, who seized power on 14 September 1979]and was put in prison. They sentenced me to death and I was waiting for my turn. One day, a person, a telephone operator, came and told me that someone was on the line for me I thought it was the end of my life but when I held the telephone, the other person said “Salaam.” It was good news. I was to be released. I was in shock. Still to this day, I do not know who that man was. I was released the next day.

7 Civil Servant and PDPA activist

I remember that when [President] Taraki went missing, people complained about why he had disappeared. They wanted to know the hospital where he was supposedly under treatment. People said that it was when Amin and his government came under pressure from the people that they killed Taraki.

After this, different news spread from person to person: some said Taraki had been killed in an underground room of the presidential palace; some said Amin supporters had put a pillow over his mouth and he suffocated – all sorts of different stories.

I remember that, after his death, the government people brought his body at night and buried it in an area called Qul-e Abchakan in Kabul. I went there myself and saw a place where people had been doing some work. I saw a newly dug grave. Later, the rumours were that Taraki’s body had been moved to Ghazni [his home province: he was from Nawa district]. But no-one knows clearly whether his body was moved or not. From then onward, Amin did a lot of brutal things to local people including with the help of the then chief of intelligence, Assadullah Sarwari. (4)

Later, when Hafizullah Amin got into power, the Russians suspected him of having relations with the Americans. That was the reason they brought Babrak Karmal back from Russia and made him president. I remember that day. There was a lot of Russian firing and shelling in Kabul. I was in the Pul-e Kheshti area and the Russians fired several rockets at the city. When Karmal got power, my friends and I went to the presidential palace to congratulate him on his new position. His supporters had him on their shoulders, most of them Parchamis, and very happy. When they got the power, they started arresting Khalqis. In Karmal’s government, Suleman Laeq was appointed head of the central bureau and I went to work there with him.

8 Schoolgirl, Kabul II

After the coup, the communists named the Arg ‘Khana-ye-Khalq’ (the House of the People) and opened it up for visits. Daud Khan’s family and many others had been killed there during the coup, but it was like a park at that time and anyone could go and look around. After a couple of weeks, I went, along with my sisters and other relatives. We didn’t see any dead bodies, but we could see signs of blood in various places. The trunks of trees were tainted with blood. Daud Khan’s bathroom was also badly destroyed, maybe with rockets. On most of the walls, I could see bullet holes. There were crowds of people and most of those I saw were very sad about the situation, seeing the bullet holes and other signs of destruction.

There was a smell in the Arg, a smell of blood or… I cannot name it specifically. The atmosphere was silent and everyone was terrified. Some people were crying. I was scared because I’d never witnessed such destruction in my life before.

Some months after the coup, things calmed down and everyone was going to school again and the government officials were back at work. The communists had announced their new cabinet and system of government. But slowly, the situation became terrifying because people were being hunted down and suppressed. Government people were following people, scrutinizing who was with the government and who against. Most of the investigations were taking place in schools, universities, government offices, mosques and madrasas. They had spies everywhere.

One of my two brothers, Ibrahim, was in fifth class at Kabul Polytechnic and in the students’ union. He was engaged to a girl, but not yet marred. He was young, about 28-29 years old and emotional and hot-blooded. After the coup, he took part in the protests against the government. The government people identified him and started following him. My oldest brother told him to be careful because the communists were ideologically committed and expert in pursuing people. He told Ibrahim, “Don’t speak everywhere and in front of everybody. Don’t put yourself in a position where you’ll be targeted.”

Ibrahim was not alone – there were other students who shared his thinking. He would stay for longer on Thursday evenings at the university cafeteria. One day, about five months after the Saur Revolution, he left home a bit late and asked my mother for some money. He said as it was a Thursday, he might return a bit late. My mother asked him to come and do some work at home and Ibrahim said that he would do it on Friday. She gave him 100 Afghanis. He said goodbye to her. And that was his last goodbye. That evening, we waited for him till late. He always came home, or if he was going to stay with friends, he’d let us know beforehand. That Thursday, we waited for him till late in the night, but he didn’t show up.

The next day, a neighbour knocked at our gate and came in. As soon as she entered, she said her husband Anwar, who worked in the government, had also not returned the previous night. My mother said, “You’re worried about Anwar and we are waiting for Ibrahim.”

My elder brother and other relatives went several time to different prisons of Afghanistan, but our efforts were in vain. We failed to find any clue about my brother.

We never saw Ibrahim again.

It was not only him. About six families in our neighbourhood lost family members and they are still missing. They included Anwar, our neighbour, who left behind his wife and their children.

Two months after that, so seven months after the coup, my uncle, my mother’s brother, in Kunduz also went missing. He was also an activist. We also lost a cousin on my father’s side – he was in an officer in the Afghan government and the brother-in-law of my elder sister. In total, four members of our family went missing and never returned. We call them the unknown martyrs.

After some time, I don’t remember when, the communists declared a general amnesty and some prisoners were released from Pul-e Charkhi jail. [There were two amnesties and mass releases of prisoners, in September 1979, after Amin took power, and after the Soviet invasion, in early January 1980.] Thousands of people went hoping to find their relatives, including my sisters and I. Mostly it was people like tailors and bakers who were freed. My brother was not among them, nor our other kin.

I think the communists had taken my brother and my other relatives to the Polygon and killed them en masse with other prisoners. These were the toughest conditions we lived under. We were so sad.

Meanwhile, I started studying at Aryana High School and would see girls who were members of different communist party groups, such as the Organisation of Modern Youth and the Pioneers(Pesh Ahang,in Dari). They went from school to school, recruiting anyone who showed interest or had talent. I had no interest in joining them and my family wouldn’t have allowed me to join if I had. Some classmates did though.

Four of my classmates also had missing brothers. One day, one of them stood up in class and started shouting at these girls who were recruiting new members. “You are promoting music and dance and concerts,” she said, “but other people are suffering from grief and sadness because their beloved ones are missing.”

The daughter of Hafizullah Amin was also studying in our school. Her name was Malalai and every morning when school started, she’d give speeches. She’d say that we have come into the power and we will bring a lot of changes and the country will go to a prosperous future.

Did the coup change your life – if so, in what way?

1 Schoolboy, Takhar

I had been the number one pupil in my school. Under Daud Khan, the education system was really good – the university students were better even then now. When the Khalqis came to power, it all went downhill, as I explained earlier. My father had been an orphan and was not able to study, so he really wanted us to be educated. He had a vision for us. He’d gone to Kabul, a year before the coup, and got advice about my future from two friends. One, the defence minister, said I should become an officer, but the education minister said I should study medicine or economics or agriculture and he would help get me a scholarship in a foreign country. My father returned happy. He’d been deprived of his education, but we would not be. But my future was very different: I fought the Soviets.

I lost people in the jihad – two cousins and two uncles were martyred. All three of us brothers were imprisoned and two of us sentenced to death, but we all managed to escape. My father was arrested and beaten (in Karmal’s time) and was left injured. He could not be treated and he died after a long illness.

2 University student, Kabul

It changed my life in good and bad ways: the negative side was that it led to war, insecurity and a period of strangulation. But it awakened the people, including myself to knowledge about different regimes. This influenced me. I completed my university studies and stayed in Kabul until the Taleban took over.

Like any other revolution and changes that have their slogans, the Khalq and Parcham slogan “Kar, dodey, kali”(‘house, bread and clothes’) didn’t come good. They were problems with how they wanted to implement that slogan. The Khalq and Parcham waged a revolt, but didn’t understand the society well and failed to move slowly and gradually. Since then, the mujahedin and Taleban have said Islam is their motto and justice is central – but justice didn’t prevail.

3 Schoolgirl, Kabul I

The coup made me grow up, as I learned about the political situation and how oppressed we became and how evil the communist regime was. It affected my life directly and I can never forget that. I see the entire problem of this country due to the events of those days. It changed the course of the history of this country in a very bad way.

After describing the torture suffered by her brother and the sexual abuse suffered by female detainees – see earlier section – she added:

This is the reason I am so against most of the leftists, especially the Parchamis and Khalqis, because I probably know more details about what happened than people who are younger than me. Many people have only seen what the Taleban or the mujahedin did and they put up pictures of Dr Najib in the city, disrespecting the people of this country who suffered under him when he was head of KhAD. I have not heard of anyone worse than him in running KhAD in the history of the country. He had no mercy.

Remembering what this country has been through and is still going through is hard to bear. There is not a single family that has not been affected in some way.

4 Islamic activist, in Tehran

The coup not only changed my life, but the lives of the whole population, both the winners and the losers in the game. I was forced to surrender to my fate as a refugee, which took the best part of my life forever. I could not see my family. Some I never saw again. I was not able to see my dear friends again. As one of the Palestinian poets says: “I lost the face of the sun.”

6 Surveyor, Helmand

The coup changed my life from very good to the very worst. Still, my life is not good.

7 Civil Servant, PDPA activist

There have been different effects of the revolution on my life and my family. When the Khalqis were in power, they arrested me because I was with Suleiman Laeq. I was sentenced to one year in jail, but Laeq freed me when the Parchamis got into power. I didn’t do anything against the government, but since I was not Khalqi, they arrested me and sent me to prison.

As a result of the revolution, I also lost one of my cousins, Khyal Muhammad, who was a Khalqi, with Aslam Watanjar. He’d been the driver of the first tank to attack the Arg. The guards fired back and killed him, in front of the presidential palace. The communists named him as the first martyr of the revolution. I found his grave only six months later. It’s in Tapa-ye Maranjan, where King Zahir Shah and his father are buried. But when I found the grave, the police were not allowing anyone to see any of the graves of the martyrs [because they were worried opponents would cause trouble]. I was deeply disturbed by this.

It was not a good revolution, I think, because it resulted in a lot of differences between Khalqis and Parchamis. Supporters of both parties killed, not only [non-PDPA] people, but also each other when they got into power and arrested each other.

In the early days of the revolution, it had a good effect on my life. I had a coupon card and the government provided me with all the daily necessities of life – rice, sugar and all the other stuff I needed. We were not supposed to buy anything because the coupon card was everything for us. Like everyone else who worked in government, whether they were low or high level officials, they benefited from the coupons a lot. But this good effect and good situation was only for short time.

8 Schoolgirl, Kabul II

Obviously, we all feel so much sorrow, still about my missing family members…

We also became refugees. My elder brother decided we should go to Pakistan four years after the coup. He said he couldn’t take care of his sisters and protect them in Kabul, because the situation was bad and anything could happen. There had been some protests and arrests and there were also restrictions imposed on the citizens and then some security forces broke into a neighbour’s house – although they had already fled. He also thought the government would force us his sisters to wear miniskirts and ban them wearing headscarves.

We went to Peshawar, then Rawalpindi. One of my sisters became a teacher at an Afghan school there. I started working at a tailoring factory and then at a clinic for Afghan refugees. Life was cheap in Pakistan and we could feed ourselves, but we missed our country.

I got married in Pakistan to a man I didn’t see before the wedding. It was a very small ceremony and we only invited a few relatives who were living in Peshawar. There was no music or gifts exchanged in the way you see now in Kabul. We missed my brother too much to enjoy a wedding. If Ibrahim had been alive, it would have been the happiest of weddings. Now, my children ask me, “Why do you have no pictures of your wedding?”

Interviews conducted by Fazal Muzhary, Rohullah Sarush, Ali Mohammad Sabawoon, Kate Clark, Jelena Bjelica, Ali Yawar Adili, Ehsan Qaane and Obaid Ali.

(1)The interviewee said that, despite being a Parchami, Abdul Hadi Khan prospered, becoming the governor of Badakhshan and later Takhar when he is alleged to have killed many people. The interviewee said he is still alive and living in the Netherlands.

(2) Khyber was the editor of the Parcham newspaper, from which his faction of the PDPA got its name. After his burial on 19 April 1978, an estimated 15,000 PDPA sympathisers demonstrated in Kabul. Daud ordered a crackdown of the PDPA leadership which may have prompted it to launch the military coup.

The PDPA activist was an eye-witness to some of these events:

Khyber had an office in Zarlasht Market in front of Kabul municipality. I used to go to him there and take secret documents from our office, hiding them in newspapers. It was one of the meeting places for all the leading leftists.

One day I took a book to the Afghan State Printing House, in the Shashdarak area of Kabul when a friend Assadullah Ludin came and told us that a dead body was lying in the ground nearby. Ludin and I were the first people who saw the dead body. It was Khyber.

The government spread warnings, banning anyone from taking part in the condolence ceremony of Khyber. But on the second day after the death of Khyber, other leftists swore to each other that we would take revenge. Leftists took his body to Microryan. I was with those carrying the body. Others were Ratebzad, Karmal, Barak Shafeyi and Suleiman Laeq. The central committee people didn’t allow anyone else to get closer to Khyber’s body.

They said all his followers should come the next day for the burial and bring flowers. Despite the government ban, I went. One of his relatives said he wanted to bury the body in Logar that was where he was from, but others told him that he was Ustad of us all and should be buried in Kabul.

(3) My group was initially (late 1960s to 1973 called Pasdaran-e Islami-e Afghanistan(the Afghanistan Islamic Guard), but after 1973, it developed into a more disciplined, underground organisation and changed its name to Sazman-e Mujahedin-e Melli (National Mujahedin Organisation). After the coup d’etat, it again changed its name to Sazman-e Mujahedin-e Mustaz’afin-e Afghanistan (Organisation of the Mujahedin of the Disenfranchised of Afghanistan). After 1992, it merged with Hezb-e Wahdat-e Islami. I was a member up to 1978. Then I left it for good as I no longer believed in the armed struggle.

(4) The Taraki-era Afghan intelligence service was called AGSA (De Afghanistan de Gato Satelo Edara, in Pashto, the Bureau for the Protection of Afghanistan’s Interests) and headed by Sarwari. Under Amin, it was renamed KAM (De Kargarano Ettela’ati Muasesa, in Pashto, the Workers’ Intelligence Organisation). A close relative, Assadullah Amin, was its head. After the Soviet invasion, the agency was renamed KhAD (Khedmat-e Ettela’at-e Daulati, in Dari, the State Intelligence Service)

For more on Sarwari, see this AAN dispatch.

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

An April Day That Changed Afghanistan 1: Four decades after the leftist takeover

Wed, 25/04/2018 - 02:45

Forty years ago, Afghanistan experienced its second military coup d’état within five years. The authoritarian President Muhammad Daud had seized power in 1973 without much attention abroad and even little notice in Afghanistan – Daud was a sardar (prince) and seen as just another new king, although he proclaimed a republic. It was the second coup, on 27 April 1978, that changed Afghanistan forever. The ‘Saur (April) Revolution’ toppled Daud and killed most of his family. Within 19 months, Soviet troops would invade to save the regime. The invasion, and the reaction of the West and regional powers, internationalised the conflict and turned into the last hot battle of the Cold War. AAN’s co-director Thomas Ruttig looks back at the events and their background.

The following is part 1 of a short series about the events of April 1978. The next part, on the day of the anniversary, 27 April, will present eyewitnesses’ accounts of the events. Another part will look at the relationship between the PDPA and the Soviets after the Soviet military intervention in late 1979.

On 27 April 1978, parts of the Afghan army’s 4th Tank Brigade based in Pul-e Charkhi on the eastern outskirts of Kabul moved towards the former royal palace where President Muhammad Daud was chairing a cabinet meeting. (1) The tanks were ostensibly meant to protect the president — that was what the brigade’s chief of staff, Lieutenant-Colonel Muhammad Rafi, and two battalion commanders, majors Muhammad Aslam Watanjar and Sherjan Mazduryar, told their commander. But actually the tanks were on their way to topple Daud.

What the commander did not know (unless he was complicit) was that the three young officers belonged to a clandestine left-wing network in the military linked to Hezb-e Demokratik-e Khalq-e Afghanistan (People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan, PDPA), a semi-legal party founded in 1965. Their civilian leaders had been arrested the day before, and the cabinet was meeting to decide their fate.

The arrests of the PDPA leaders came after the murder of the party’s main theoretician Mir Akbar Khaibar on 17 April 1978, followed by mass protests at his burial two days later. About 10,000 to 15,000 people poured into Kabul’s streets in what the government saw as a show of force for the PDPA after its reunification less then a year earlier, in July 1977. Since 1967, because of tactical differences and personal feuds among some of its leaders, the PDPA had split into factions. The largest factions were Parcham (banner) led by Babrak Karmal (Khaibar also belonged to it), and Khalq (People), led by Nur Muhammad Tarakay. (2) Both factions maintained networks in the armed forces. Karmal and Tarakay were among the leaders whose arrests provoked the reaction from the young officers. Both of them would also assume ministerial posts and be quickly removed from them again in the tumultuous months that followed.

The PDPA claimed to have 18,000 members in 1978, although independent sources estimated the party’s membership at 4000, up from 1500 a decade earlier. (3) It had gained a following among university and high school students, as well as the small but growing ranks of industrial workers. Starting in 1965, students had been protesting against difficult living conditions, particularly for poorer students from the provinces who lived in dormitories in Kabul where food rations were handed out irregularly. Other issues were corruption in the entry exams and the lack of job opportunities after graduation – problems that sound familiar in Afghanistan today (see AAN analysis here). The workers demanded better working and living conditions, and the right to set up legal trade unions. At the time, the only worker associations permitted were self-help groups that collected money for colleagues falling ill or passing away.

Organised labour activities had increased significantly by 1968. One source listed 21 workers’ strikes between April and June that year alone. This was not confined to Kabul but also spread to towns such as Gulbahar, Jabal us-Seraj, Pul-e Khumri and Kunduz, where decades of government development programmes and private investment had created an industrial base. The workers were supported by students and farm labourers. Andreas Kramer, a German development worker, describes how workers from the the refineries in Shebarghan and the textile mill in Pul-e Khumri marched hundreds of kilometres toward Kabul in 1968, before the police broke up their procession by force. At least one other strike, at Kabul’s largest industrial site, Jangalak, also ended in violence. These strikes were either organised by the PDPA or its Maoist rivals from Shola-ye Jawed (Eternal Flame) (read an AAN paper about this group here). (4)

The PDPA’s small but vocal group of four MPs elected in 1965 – all later Parchamis – brought up these problems in fiery speeches in parliament. (5) A well-known contemporary image shows Karmal at the forefront of a Parchami First of May demonstration in Kabul. It was during this period that Afghan politicians earned the activist bona fides they would later bring into power during the Soviet occupation: Karmal, whose self-chosen second name translates as “friend of labour”, marched alongside his unofficial romantic partner Anahita Ratebzad, a parliamentarian who would later become Minister of Education, and alongside Sultan Ali Keshtmand, who later served as Prime Minister.

In the same year, when the first commoner in the position of prime minister faced a vote of confidence (the position was previously reserved for members of the royal family), Parcham encouraged students to occupy parliament. This resulted in clashes with the West German-trained riot police, the ghund-e zarba, which shot dead three students. The day, 3 Aqrab, (23 October) became a students’ action day for many years.

The clandestine officers’ groups and Parcham

One of the clandestine officers’ groups had been founded in 1964 by Khaibar, whose murder sparked unrest four years later. Olivier Roy, a French scholar, described him as the “only real Marxist” in the PDPA. Various sources refer to the officers’ group as the Revolutionary Army Association or the Communist Union of Army Officers, but it is unclear if the group ever used an official name. There was a parallel Khalqi network within the security forces run by Tarakay’s deputy Hafizullah Amin, a teacher who did some postgraduate studies in the US but was expelled for left-wing political work before graduating—and who also climbed briefly into Afghanistan’s highest office in 1979.

Khaibar, a graduate of Kabul’s military academy, had been imprisoned for political agitation in the armed forces in 1950. In prison he met Karmal, a leading voice of the students’ association at Kabul University. (6) Khaibar was said to have ‘converted’ Karmal, four years his junior, to Marxism during their time in custody. When both of them were released in 1956, Khaibar returned into the ranks of the police as an instructor at the Kabul Police Academy. In 1960, both founded one of the first mahfel, political discussion circles, that preceded the PDPA. Khaibar also became joint editor-in-chief of Parcham’s eponymous party newspaper during its short existence in 1968 and 1969. It can be assumed that Khaibar started his recruitment within the armed forces on the PDPA ticket and, after the party’s split in 1967, merged the clandestine officers’ group with his cellmate’s Parcham faction.

It is not clear whether the leading officers of the 1978 coup — Rafi, Watanjar and Mazduryar — belonged to the same or different networks in the military. Rafi was later known as a Parchami, while Watanjar and Mazduryar were Khalqis. In any case, the difference cannot have been that big as they seem to have cooperated closely during the coup.

The Daud-Parcham alliance and its end

Daud had known the Parchami leader – the son of a general and part of the Afghan elite himself – since Karmal’s student activism days in the late 1940s. Although serving as Minister of War (1946-48) and Interior (1949-51) during that period, Daud had already been plotting to take power then, trying to ally himself with the reform-minded intellectuals and students such as Karmal. (The attempts were not particularly successful and he played a role in suppressing the reformist movement.) Daud’s ambitions then were put on the backburner for a while when the monarch, Muhammad Zahir, appointed him Prime Minister in 1953. He held the post for ten years, until 1963.

But in 1963, Daud was sacked and sidelined as a result of his confrontational policies toward Pakistan, which had led to severe economic problems for landlocked Afghanistan. He also suffered as a result of the king’s political reforms, turning Afghanistan from an absolute into a constitutional monarchy. Ironically, the plan was Daud’s own; he had proposed the changes to the king himself in 1962. But the reforms did not happen the way Daud suggested. The new constitution that came into force in 1964 barred members of the royal family from holding government offices and from becoming members of a political party. Many Afghans, among them the sidelined ex-prime minister himself, saw the constitution mainly as a means to keep Daud away from power. This put Daud back onto a path of confrontation with the king, and he turned to Parcham for support. Daud sought the backing of Parcham’s clandestine officers network starting in 1971, some sources report. This did not remain secret. Embassy cables later revealed that US diplomats were aware of Daud’s preparations to take power latest by 1972 (read the document here).

The alliance with Parcham worked out in 1973, during the overthrow of the king. Half of Daud’s first cabinet was made up of Parchamis, and many of the young officials he dispatched to the provinces to revamp the country’s ineffective, corruption-ridden administration were members or sympathisers of the group. Many of them had studied in the Soviet Union. (7) But, as the historian Amin Saikal wrote, the alliance between Daud and the Parchamis “was not based on ideology” rather solely on Daud’s desire “to wreak vengeance on Zahir Shah and seize power in pursuit of his own vision of Afghanistan.”

The Daud-Parcham alliance was over again soon, as Daud started sidelining Parcham. With one exception, all its ministers were removed from the cabinet by 1975. Karmal, who never had received a cabinet or similar position under Daud, was under de facto house arrest. Daud also dismissed or demoted many Parcham members in the armed forces. Colonel Abdul Qader, one of the leaders of the July 1973 coup who had been made deputy commander of the Air Force, was particularly humiliated: In 1974, after he challenged the president to make good on his promise to legalise political parties, Daud made him the director of the Kabul slaughterhouse.

These moves prompted the PDPA’s Khalq and Parcham factions to re-unite in July 1977, facilitated over more than a year by the Indian Communist Party and Ajmal Khattak, a leftist Pashtun nationalist poet and politician from Pakistan who lived in exile in Kabul. The unification took place in Jalalabad, and Tarakay became party leader with Karmal as his deputy, likely due to the fact that Khalq had more members than Parcham (2500 against 1000 to 1500). Their clandestine military networks were kept separate but cooperated against Daud after the arrest of the party’s leaders in April 1978.

It is still unknown who killed Khaibar, the event that triggered the April 1978 upheavals. Hezb-e Islami (Gulbuddin) claimed the assassination years later, but a more common theory points at Daud’s secret police and at his Khalqi rival Amin. Bruce Flatin, who served as a US Embassy political counsellor in Kabul from 1977 to 1979, later said that a West German police officer, who was then a police adviser to the Afghan Ministry of the Interior, told him that the same weapon used to kill Khaibar had been used earlier to kill another union leader. (8) and “that fact indicated that both killings may have been a government-type assassination” (read interview here). Amin may have wanted to sideline Khaibar and his Parchami military organisation in the re-united PDPA and take over himself by provoking a coup among the remaining left-wing officers who, as with Watanjar and Mazduryar, were closer to Khalq. Cordovez/Harrison’s finding that Qader, a Parchami, was initially hesitant to join the coup indicates that he may have perceived it as Khalqi-led. (9)

… and the PDPA turned the first tank that entered the palace into a memorial for the ‘Saur Revolution’. Source: Afghanistan Today/Afghanistan Hoy, propaganda book, Moscow 1986

The PDPA takes over

Qader endured his assignment at the slaughterhouse and returned to his military duties, reinstated as Air Force chief of staff, but seized the opportunity to seek revenge for his humiliation. On 27 April 1978, fighter jets flown by pilots under his command supported Watanjar’s tanks and started pounding the presidential palace. When commando units also joined the coup, the resistance put up by Daud’s Republican Guard at the palace broke down. After Khaibar’s assassination, Daud might have wrongly assumed that the threat against him emanating from leftist army infiltration was over. Several sources even reported that the army units were still celebrating the PDPA leaders’ arrest when the coup started.

This coup was much more violent than the first one in 1973. The PDPA regime later talked about some 100 people killed on 27 April. Western eyewitnesses quoted in the Washington Post described the fighting:

“I never knew the Afghan army had so many tanks […]. They were everywhere, hundreds and hundreds of them, and many of them had been knocked out in the battles. It was all very fierce stuff.” […]

(Read the full story here.) Louis Dupree, another eyewitness, recounted how, in the weekend traffic, private cars were swerving in and out of tank columns and how traffic police tried to give directions to the tanks.

Daud refused to capitulate and drew a pistol on the officers who came to arrest him. He was executed along with all 18 of his family members in the country at the time, including his wife, his brother, and their children and grand children, five of them underage. (10) They were buried in unmarked graves until 2009, when Daud received a state burial (read here).

It was also Qader who, as the head of a Revolutionary Military Council, announced the success of the coup over national radio on the afternoon of 27 April. (According to one source, Watanjar read out the same text in Pashto.) Two days later, the military council handed power over to a civilian government. On 30 April, the first two decrees of the new government wee published, announcing that PDPA leader Tarakay was appointed head of state and prime minister. Karmal and Amin were made his deputies; Amin also was foreign minister. All of them had been liberated by the military plotters on 28 April who knocked down the mud wall of Sedarat prison in central Kabul with their tanks. Amin was leading operations with a handcuff still around one wrist. Qader became the PDPA’s first defence minister. The country was renamed Democratic Republic of Afghanistan.

The new regime allied itself with the Soviet Union, while claiming to be non-communist, and embarked on radical reforms. This alienated the landed elite and the religious establishment, as well as large parts of the population. Growing armed resistance, often spontaneous, was organised by nationalist and even leftist groups, although both were later completely sidelined by the mujahedin parties. This rebellion soon brought the regime to the brink of collapse. It answered with brutal repression against everyone it considered an enemy. While related atrocities in Kabul are relatively well-known (see AAN reporting here and here), similar ones in the provinces are less notorious. For example, the author was told by a tribal elder in Uruzgan province in 2008 how the local PDPA leadership invited all provincial elders for a shura, only to have them arrested: “They were tied together with ropes around their necks and led away. We never saw any of them again.”

In September 1979, Amin assassinated Tarakay and put himself at the helm. Tarakay had established a close personal relationship with then Soviet leader Leonid Breshnev, so the killing cost Amin the backing of Moscow. (Qader, Rafi, Watanjar and Mazduryar had all long been sidelined.) Allegations spread in the party that Amin was a CIA agent. His alleged plans to broker a peace deal with Hezb-e Islami leader Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, who belonged to the same tribe as Amin, finally persuaded the Soviet leadership to intervene militarily. They toppled and killed Amin, replacing him with Karmal, in an alliance with the Khalqi officer group around Watanjar.

The rest is history. The country, a backwater of the Cold War that had preserved its non-aligned status and used it to attract massive foreign aid from both East and West, became the last battleground of the Cold War where the US also took revenge for the Soviet-assisted defeat in Vietnam.

What caused the coups?

The 1973 and 1978 coups did not emerge spontaneously and are closely linked. Lesser-noticed domestic developments had undermined Afghanistan’s relative internal stability of forty years that followed Zaher Shah’s accession to power in 1933 after the assassination of his father Muhammad Nader Shah, and led to the build-up of domestic political tension and finally the first coup in 1973.

This included profound changes in Afghanistan’s social fabric as a long-term result of Amanullah’s modernising reforms in the 1920s and demographic change. These reforms have often been described as a failure. But they were never reversed, only slowed down. Over the following decades, they led to a growth of the educated class that was inadequately absorbed by the stagnating state bureaucracy, dominated until 1964 by the extended royal clan. The educated youth and the growing intellectual class – called roshanfekran (enlightened thinkers) in the country – turned into a breeding ground for the re-emergence of the reformist political current that began with the first constitutional movement (mashrutiat) at the start of the century. This movement continued with the Young Afghans who inspired and pushed forward Amanullah’s reforms and became active again during a political opening in the late 1940s and early 1950s under the name Wesh Zalmian (Awakened Youth). They were the recruitment pool for the new political groups that emerged after the passing of the 1964 constitution.

Secondly, there were tense relations with Pakistan immediately after British India’s partition in 1947. The failure to grant the Pashtun-inhabited areas of the new country the choice of independence or re-accession to Afghanistan led to permanent irredentist politics in Kabul. In 1949, a Loya Jirga in Kabul proclaimed its support for the self-determination of ‘Pashtunistan’ and declared the 1893 Durand Agreement void. Since then, Afghanistan has not given up its claim to these areas and Kabul has supported armed rebellions among the Pashtuns and Baloch in Pakistan. Daud became a prime protagonist of this policy, building his appeal among the reformist and nationalist intelligentsia.

Thirdly, Afghanistan’s rejection by the US drove Daud into the arms of the Soviets. Since 1944, Kabul was repeatedly told by Washington that the country was of no particular interest. The US told Kabul in 1951 that “it would help if the Pashtunistan claim is dropped” and in 1954 that “extending military aid to Afghanistan would create problems not offset by the strength it would create.” In 1955, Afghanistan declined to give in to pressure from Washington to join the anti-communist Baghdad Pact (later CENTO) and remained neutral. The USSR opened its territory when Pakistan blocked the transit trade with land-locked Afghanistan. As a result, Kabul started military cooperation with the Soviet Union that year. An increasing number of Afghan officers and civilians were trained in the Soviet Union. Some of them adopted communist, or at least nationalist anti-Western ideas, and started recruiting followers. The increasing Afghan-Soviet relations and activity of left-leaning political forces also led to a crisis between the Afghan monarchy and the Islamic clergy which traditionally had bestowed religious legitimacy on the leadership.

Fourth, the crackdown by Daud and his Parchami against the Islamist groups gave Pakistan a chance to mirror Afghanistan’s policy of supporting armed insurgents on its territory. Pakistan received the fleeing Islamist survivors with open arms and offered training. The US became part of the game early on, contributing financial aid to the Islamist leaders as early as 1973, according to Pakistani officials involved then (quoted here). After the Soviets invaded, these Islamist groups became the basis for the mujahedin movement fighting them and the major force opposing the PDPA regime.

These social and political tensions were exacerbated by an environmental crisis, resulting in the drought of 1969 to 1972 which led to crop failures, food shortages and food price hikes across the country. Thousands died of starvation, mainly in the northwestern provinces of Herat, Badghis and Ghor, parts of the Hazarajat and Badakhshan (see telegrams from the US Embassy in Afghanistan here; here and here). German magazine Der Spiegel reported in October 1971:

Thousands of Afghans leave their villages in the Southwest of the country. They move to Iran or West Pakistan. Afghans attack Afghans. They fight for food and access to water. (…) The herdsmen and farmers slaughter their animals or sell them at knockdown prices to their neighbours in Iran, the USSR or West Pakistan. [… A]t least 70 per cent of sheep flocks will not survive the winter unless foreign countries urgently help the Afghans.

The inadequate response of the government further undermined the legitimacy of the monarchy. US sources (here and here) reported that foreign aid, including wheat, was left to rot at the Kabul airport. According to the US Embassy, “provincial officials including governors [showed] extraordinarily poor leadership” or often were “ruthlessly exploiting the situation,” selling food aid in the markets. Journalists and foreigners were kept out of most affected areas, and the central government was reluctant to declare an emergency in order to avoid being blamed (read more here). Afghan-German writer Matin Baraki wrote that a large part of the assistance delivered by the UN was misappropriated by a member of the royal family who was the honorary chairman of the Afghan Red Crescent, redirected to the military, hospitals and boarding schools or sold in the bazaar. Donors criticised the lack of a coordinated plan of action and the absence of a relief coordinator at the cabinet level. This behaviour undermined the standing and legitimacy of the monarchy among large parts of the population.

Inter-dynastic problems also played a role. While Daud stood for political reform and saw the Islamists as the major challenge to his aims, a more conservative strand of the royal family – represented by his uncle, Sardar Shah Wali Khan and his son General Abdul Wali, the commander of the central army corps in Kabul – had the King’s ear and was able to slow the pace of reform. There were even tensions over private relationships, indirectly alluded to by the historian Saikal as “the context of an intensified polygamic-based power rivalry.”

In any case, Daud’s coup d’état in 1973 ended a ten-year interlude under Zaher Shah that had been relatively democratic in the context of Afghan history. It also set an example that violent regime change was possible. The PDPA learned this lesson. Daud’s regime was also much less effective than often described. Flatin, the former Kabul-based US diplomat, deflated this posthumous mystification, calling Daud’s post-1973 republican regime “a one-man type of rule“ and Daud as not having “enough energy to found and run this new republic of his properly. There was dissatisfaction everywhere.“

First page of first issue of “Khalq” newspaper, 1966. Source: screen shot

Where did the PDPA come from?

The PDPA was only one of a number of parties-in-waiting that emerged after Zaher Shah started his top-down democratic opening in 1963. They included royalists; Islamists; liberal and social democrats; Pashtun and non-Pashtun ethno-nationalists; as well as Marxists, both pro-Moscow and pro-Beijing. The PDPA was officially founded on 1 January 1965 in Kabul after a series of meetings between a number of mahfel, who had established a PDPA kamita-ye tadaruk (preparatory committee). Finally only five of them participated, those of Tarakay (who became party leader), Karmal (his deputy), Taher Badakhshi (who later founded his own leftist-ethnonationalist group, known as Settam-e Melli), Ghulam Dastagir Panjsheri (a later minister) and Zaher Ufoq. In contrast, some moderate leftists opted out of the party during the preparation process, in particular senior historian Mir Ghulam Muhammad Ghobar who had been a supporter of reformer-king Amanullah and elected parliamentarian in 1949. Karmal and Tarakay, too, had gained political clout as activists during the first democratic period and later suffered prison or exile.

In its documents, the PDPA avoided the term Marxism-Leninism. Instead, it talked about the “scientific world view” – and everyone knew what it meant. “This party did not hide that its aim was the establishment of a socialist society,” one of its co-founders, Karim Misaq, was later quoted as saying. The Soviets were less enthusiastic about the PDPA, particularly because of its notorious factionalism; they did not want to be forced to say whether Parcham or Khalq was the ‘real’ brotherly party in Afghanistan. (As a rule, the USSR only recognised one communist party per country.) Vladimir Plastun, a leading Soviet specialist on Afghanistan, told the author that Moscow did not believe either of the two factions were really communist parties as per the Soviet definition.

While the new constitution contained the right to form political parties, its implementation was predicated on a pending law on political parties. This law had passed parliament and awaited the king’s signature. The king chose not to sign the law, however, fearing that extremist groups might get the upper hand in parliament (read US Embassy cable here). Laws about provincial councils, the right to demonstrate and an independent judiciary were also unsigned (see here). This “royal indecision and caution” proved to be, as Saikal called it, a “fatal mistake.” While the moderates obeyed, either dissolved their groups or decreased their activity, the leftists and the Islamists went underground and started to infiltrate the armed forces, viewing a coup d’état as the only possible way to power. As a result, this only half-hearted democratic opening, almost paradoxically, led to a further destabilisation of the country and to a radicalisation and diversification of the opposition that opened the way for the second, PDPA-led coup in 1978.

Did the Soviets orchestrate the 1978 coup?

There seems to be a growing consensus among those studying Afghanistan that, despite close contacts between PDPA leaders and the Soviet Embassy in Kabul, the Soviets did not engineer the 27 April coup. Much of what was written earlier was coloured by the Cold War. It was clear, though, also to the Soviets, that various groups including the PDPA were working toward a military takeover. On the part of the PDPA, these preparation were well advanced in 1977. Khaibar’s assassination and the remaining party leaders’ arrest likely resulted in the coup plans being accelerated.

A large volume of analysis written after the Cold War seems to show that the Soviets were surprised by the coup. Soviet documents show instructions to their ambassador in Kabul and the chief military advisor, ordering them to have no dealings with the PDPA leaders and leave it to the local KGB. The KGB people, however, told Tarakay and Karmal that the conditions were not ripe for socialism in Afghanistan and that they should instead unite to support Daud. Rodric Braithwaite, a former British ambassador to Moscow who studied all available Soviet sources about Afghanistan for a book published in 2011, comes to the conclusion that “reliable evidence that the Russians were behind the coup is lacking.” At best, KGB advisors were privy to plans for a coup at a later stage, but the coup came, as Braithwaite put it, “like a bolt out of the blue to Soviet officials in Kabul, even the KGB representative.” Former US president Jimmy Carter wrote in his memoirs that even Brezhnev had told him that the Soviets first heard about the coup on the radio.

This does not contradict Rubin’s assumption that the PDPA “probably received financial assistance from the Soviet Union, aided by some Parchamis whose state position gave them access to Soviet aid and trade.” The Swiss editors of a collection of Soviet documents concluded that even though Daud’s relationship with the USSR had become less close in his final years, a change of power in Kabul “was in no way in the interest of the Kremlin in spring 1978.” In other words, they found Daud still much more reliable than the notoriously squabbling PDPA leaders.

That the Soviets were not behind the coup does also not mean that some PDPA leaders were not interlocutors, informants or even agents of Soviet intelligence services. This has been repeatedly claimed, among others by Vassili Mitrokhin, a KGB archivist who defected to the West and claimed the KGB had recruited “long-serving” Karmal in the mid-1950s; Tarakay “possibly” at the same time; and Qader and Ratebzad “informally.” Former PDPA leaders also made such allegations in books published after they fell from power.

The end of the revolution: Soviet military debris at Kunduz airport. Photo: Thomas Ruttig (2007)

Coup or revolution?

The question of whether the events of April 1978 were a coup or a revolution is not a theoretical matter and remains hotly contested in Afghanistan. The answer has been a make-or-break question particularly for leftist, former leftist and pro-democratic groups and has prevented them at various times from joining hands against what they perceive as the overriding problem for their country, the Islamist threat. Many of them are successor organisations of the now defunct PDPA (renamed Hezb-e Watan, or Fatherland Party in 1990; read AAN analysis here) while others stood on the other side of the barricades between 1978 and 1992 and were persecuted by the PDPA. For the next generation of progressive Afghan politicians, it remains a central matter of concern whether the groups that emerged from the PDPA develop a critical look at the regime’s deeds or continue glorifying it.

There is however no question that the takeover of power was achieved by a military coup. Some authors have described the three-day delay before the handover from the military council to the civilian PDPA government as a measure to avoid exposing the PDPA leaders’ involvement in case the coup went wrong. This argument does not carry water: There was no need to conceal any PDPA role. Daud was informed by his intelligence services that there were coup preparations (which he took too lightly, after Khaibar’s death); the links between Khaibar’s officer group and Karmal’s Parcham as well as the close relationship between the two men were equally well known; and the remaining key leaders’ arrest after Khaibar’s funeral showed that they were not unknown entities. The quick handover of power from the military council to the civilian PDPA government, though, was unusual for leftist military revolutionaries in countries without a strong Marxist party (see Mengistu’s Ethiopia). This most likely indicates that there was no plan to establish a military dictatorship.

This could have opened the way for the coup to become a real revolution that overturned Afghanistan’s socio-political relations. The radical reforms envisioned – including land reforms; debt cancellation for landless farmers; implementation of a 42-hour working week; paid maternity leave for working women – could have led in this direction. But the PDPA leadership, overconfident after their easy takeover of power, underestimated the resistance particular their land reforms would create because of the strength of relations between landowners and share croppers, whom the PDPA simplistically viewed as between ‘oppressive feudals’ and ‘oppressed farmers’ waiting for liberation. They also underestimated the influence and staying power of the clergy, and started answering any resistance with brutal force. This cost them most of their initial support. The Soviet invasion in late 1979, meant to stabilise their regime, dealt their project the death blow. Under the conditions of a full-blown guerrilla war, it became nearly impossible to carry out any constructive reform programme.

The authoritarian and bureaucratic model with its one-party state, mostly copied from the Soviet Union, was also incapable of mobilising sufficient support for such a programme. When the Soviet leadership under Gorbachev realised this in its own country and told Karmal in October 1985 to “broaden the base of the regime, forget about Socialism, share power with those who have real influence, including with mujahidin leaders […] and try to act so that the people will see that it is getting benefits from your revolt,” it was too late. Too much blood had already been shed.

Edited by Graeme Smith

The above rendering of the fateful events on and around 7 Saur 1357 (27 April 1978) is based on the following literature, as well as the author’s research on the democratic movements of 1947-52 and 1963-73 and political party development in Afghanistan:

Andeshmand, Muhammad Akram, Hezb-e Demokratik-e Khalq-e Afghanistan – kudeta, hakemiat wa furupashi 1357-1371 [PDPA – coup d’etat, rule and downfall] (Kabul 2009)
Andrew, Christopher/Mitrochin, Das Schwarzbuch des KGB 2 (German version, 2006)
Arnold, Anthony, Afghanistan’s Two-Party Communism (1983)
Bradsher, Henry S., Afghan Communism and Soviet Intervention (1999)
Braithwaite, Rodric, Afgantsy (2011)
Bucherer-Dietschi, P./Stahel, A.A./Stüssi-Lauterburg, J. (eds), Strategischer Überfall – das Beispiel Afghanistan (1991)
Emadi, Hafizullah, State, Revolution and Superpowers in Afghanistan (1997)
Farahi, Abdul Ghaffar, Afghanistan During Democracy & Republic 1963-1978 (2001)
Halliday, Fred, “Revolution in Afghanistan”, New Left Review (1979),
Halliday, Fred/Tanin, Zahir, “The Communist regime in Afghanistan 1978-1992, institutions and conflicts”, Europe-Asia Studies (1998)
Kakar, M. Hassan, Afghanistan (1995)
Korgun, V.G., Intelligencija v politicheskim zhizni Afganistana (Moscow 1983)
Majid, Walid, “Prime minister Daoud’s relationship with Washington (1953-1963)”, paper for the Institute for Afghan Studies
Male, Beverley, Revolutionary Afghanistan (1979)
Roy, Olivier, Islam and Resistance in Afghanistan (French original from 1985)
Rubin, Barnett, The Fragmentation of Afghanistan (1995)
Saikal, Amin, Modern Afghanistan (2004)

All possible misinterpretations or mistakes should only be blamed on the author, who also declares his interest to hear from readers if they have more information about the events described (please contact info@afghanistan-analysts.org).

(1) Read Barnett Rubin’s 1994 biography of him in Encyclopaedia Iranica here.

(2) In most sources in non-Afghan languages, Tarakay is spelled Taraki. The author chose the lesser used version to reflect that the name is not pronounced as Tarakee but with the diphthong “ai” as in “to buy” or in Khaibar (in English sources often: Khyber).

The author also uses the adjective Khalqi only for the eponymous PDPA faction or its members, not for the entire PDPA – according to its Dari name, Hezb-e Demokratik-e Khalq-e Afghanistan – whose members are often also summarily called “Khalqis.”

(3) See a list of the quote and other literature consulted for this text above, above, at the end of the main text.

(4) Shola-ye Jawed, just as Khalq and Parcham, were not the official names of the groups but of the groups’ often only shortlived newspapers which were much better known publicly than their actual names. Shola-ye Jawed, for example, was called Jamiat-e Demokratik-e Nawin (New Democratic Association), a term borrowed from Mao’s rulebook who had coined it for the system in his own country.

(5) Those four got seats in the 1965 parliamentary election, so far the most open one in Afghanistan’s history. Also Tarakai, Amin and some more Khalqis had run, but with no success. In 1969, when the government’s grip had been tightened again, only Karmal made it again, but also this time Amin, giving the Khalq faction its only ever seat in parliament.

(6) The Kabul University Students Association was the first-ever social organisation in Afghanistan legalised, and initially even encouraged by the government. It existed only from March to November 1950. The association was banned again after it started challenging the monarchy; one student started a public conference without mentioning the king in his opening remarks, a behaviour unthinkable of at that time. In 1951, students held demonstrations in favour of its re-legalisation. One protest, on 21 June 1951, began with a meeting at French-supported Esteqlal Lycée and led to the royal palace where, among others, Karmal gave a speech which led to his arrest. He was released in 1956.

(7) Even Daud’s adopted son Sayed Abdulillahi, who became Vice President in 1977; his chef de cabinet Muhammad Hassan Sharq, another future prime minister under the PDPA; and the first commander of his presidential guard Zia Majid were said to be Parcham sympathisers. (The PDPA’s Khalq faction remained in opposition throughout Daud’s reign.)

See a rendering of the events on the day of the 1973 coup by an accidental witness in the New York Times here.

(8) His name was Enam-ul-Haq Gran, a leader of the pilots’ union at the state carrier Ariana. The pilots went on strike in 1977 and Gran was shot by unknown assailants.

(9) Cordovez/Harrison also have one of the most accurate rendering of 27 April events, from the military side, is their 1995 book Out of Afghanistan (pp 25-8, online here)

(10) Wikipedia lists Daud’s direct family members murdered in April 1978 here.

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Categories: Defence`s Feeds

Going Nationwide: The Helmand peace march initiative

Mon, 23/04/2018 - 04:00

Protests in Helmand calling for a ceasefire and talks between insurgents and government are about to enter their second month. The pro-peace demonstrations which began in what are often described as the Taleban’s ‘southern heartlands’, have been spreading: they can now be found in half of Afghanistan’s provinces and for now, at least, they are transcending tribal and ethnic divides. As AAN’s Ali Mohammad Sabawoon reports (with input from Thomas Ruttig), both Taleban and government appear to have been wrong-footed by the protesters, unsure how to respond.

The relatives of victims, activists and other residents from Helmand – both men and women – who began a sit-in for peace following a car bomb suicide attack in the provincial capital of Lashkargah in late March 2018 which left dozens of civilians injured or dead (see a media report here), are now taking their initiative a step further. Spontaneous reactions in other parts of Helmand, where tents were erected and other forms of protest occurred, have spread to neighbouring Kandahar, as well as to other provinces – 16 in all. Sit-ins in support of the Helmand protestors have been organised Herat, Nimruz, Farah, Zabul, Kandahar, Uruzgan, Ghazni, Paktia, Kunduz, Kunar, Nangrahar, Balkh, Parwan, Daykundi, Maidan Wardak and Jawzjan.

A tent was erected in Sheberghan, Jawzjan’s capital, for example, on 20 April, where Tolo News quoted Farzin Fahimi, a female activist there, as saying this was a message to those who choose war: join the peace process. She added that civil society would help them with their legal demands, ensuring they would be accepted. Another tent was erected in Maidan Wardak province on 19 April in support of the movement. One of the protestors, Dr Najiullah Samun, told Pajhwok News Agency that the people were fed up with war. He called on both sides of the conflict to observe a ceasefire as soon as possible in order to pave the way for peace talks.” In Charikar in Parwan province, civil society activists also erected a tent (see media report here), where Pajhwok news agency quoted Khalida, a female participating activist, as saying “This move is in support of the people of Helmand.” Muhammad Sabir Fahim, a civil activist who spoke on behalf of the protestors, called on the Afghan government, armed groups and the United Statesto end the conflict in the country. “The people are tired of war,” he said. Support meetings have also been held in two other provinces, Bamyan and Badakhshan (although only some of these have been reported in the media, see here; and here).

These place names clearly indicate that people from non-Pashtun areas have also joined the protests, potentially making this a countrywide movement for peace.

Another protest tent was also planned for the capital, Kabul. A few days ago, one of the organisers, Eqbal Khaibar (a local journalist and youth activist) and his team met the relatives of victims of attacks in Kabul, as well as other civil society members and youth activists who told him they would support the Helmand initiative. However, officials have not allowed their tents to be erected in Zarnegar Park. They argued it was too close to the high-security Serena hotel, one of the few places where foreigners on official trips can still stay (they made no mention of its use by government officials, although that might also have been on their minds). Until now, the government had not objected to tents being put up in this park, which has been a popular location for similar protests on several earlier occasions. Khaibar told AAN on 16 April that they would choose another place for the tents. Up till now, no protest tent had gone up in the Afghan capital. Khaibar further told AAN he had had meetingsin Kabul with nearly 320 civil society representatives, as well as political groups, government and media.

Khaibar told AAN that a large gathering – a ghunda in Pashto – is planned for today, 23 April, in Lashkargah, in which representatives from all provinces will participate. There, they plan to reach a consensus and declare their decision to go to Musa Qala, the district centre that has served as a ‘capital’ for the Taleban since they took it over in 2015 (read AAN analysis here) to meet insurgent representatives. This was the initial plan when protests began, but it had to be postponed. Khaibar said, “We are very thirsty to go there.” According to Khaibar, the protestors see themselves as intermediaries between both sides and want to bring about talks between the Taleban and the government.

For this, the protestors want to muster additional public support. On 17 April, Khaibar said, a preparatory gathering in Lashkargah was held in order to appeal to the Taleban to allow telecommunication companies to resume their services, phone connections in Helmand have been down since 14 April, which has hindered plans for rallying supporters. However, protestors have announced that teams will go from street to street, to villages, schools and madrassas in order to inform people of the outcome of the ghunda. The Taleban, however, have claimed that closing down mobile phone services had been taken for the protestors’ security (they did not explain further).

In the past, Khaibar explained, the Taleban had been afraid that armed people would join the peace march and therefore refused to let protestors come to Musa Qala. At the same time, he said, there was support from “local Taleban; we are in contact with them every day.” But, he said, “the real problems” were with the ministries of defense and interior and the National Security Council, who, in his opinion, do not have a real plan for peace, while “the president and a limited number of people around him are determined to work for peace. “When we work on the Taleban mindset and make some progress,” he said, “the government forces carry out an attack or airstrike that negatively affects the Taleban mindset”and this, he said, throws their initiative off-track.

How the initiative began

The sit-in for peace in Lashkargah and the Helmand Peace March initiative began on 26 March 2018 when a protest tent was erected at the Ghazi Ayub Khan Stadium in Lashkargah, two days after after a suicide bomber drove his car into a crowd leaving a wrestling event at the stadium, killing over a dozen civilians and injuring 40 others. Youths tied white banners around their heads with the slogan “Jang bas dai, sola ghwaru,” (Enough war, we want peace). Protestors asked the Taleban to initiate talks with the government.

Youth activists took the street asking Taleban and government for peace. Photos: c/o Helmand Peace March Initiative, 2018.

One of the victims’ relatives and one of the first to join the Helmand protest is Obaidullah, originally from Nawzad district but now living in Helmand. He told AAN that four of his nephews had been killed in the explosion at the in Ghazi Ayub stadium. “Six others of our family members were injured, two of whom are still in the hospital.” He added that he was also at the stadium but had gone to pray just three minutes before the explosion. “Our tears have not dried yet.” He said. “We want the Taleban and the government to stop killing innocent people.”

On the second day of the protest, women’s rights activists as well as those who lost their relatives in the war also joined the sit-in. The protestors declared their intent to march on Musa Qala, 87 kilometres to the north of Lashkargah, conveying their message of peace to the Taleban. They demanded that, in order to facilitate the march, both insurgents and the government must declare a ceasefire for at least two days and that the government delay their planned “Operation Nasrat” (Victory) against the insurgents.

The women would play a very specific role in this. In Afghan tribal tradition, when women perform nenawati (entering a house to demand help or seek forgiveness), the request is rarely rejected, although such traditions have been worn threadbare over the last four decades of war. Female members of the High Peace Council voiced their support for Helmand’s women on 1 April, saying in a statement, “We support the voice of Helmandi women who have lost their sons, brothers, husbands and relatives in the war.”

By then, the protestors had adopted the name ‘Helmand Peace March’ for this initiative – which is also the hashtag for their mobilisation on social media – and De Sole Wulusi Harakat (People’s Peace Movement). An organiser told AAN that their leadership council comprises nearly 20 people, but said he would not disclose all the names. Some of the organisers are known, however, as they have spoken to the media and been active on social media. Apart from Eqbal Khaibar, those who started the sit-in include Muhammad Erfan, a medical doctor, Qais Hashemi, a Helmandi singer famous for his song Sola Ghwaru (We Want Peace), Bacha Khan, another youth activist, as well as Ahmad Jan and Safiullah Sarwan. Khaibar described the group’s members as “people who have a national mindset,” ie not having any affiliations with organisations or militant groups, be they mujahedin or other. As is customary, the participating women’s backgrounds were not provided. It is very rare for women in southern Afghanistan to be allowed to be seen outside of their households, not to mention take on a political role.

The protestors indirectly responded to President Ashraf Ghani’s announcement on 28 February 2018 that his government was ready to talk with the Taleban without any preconditions, in any location (see AAN analysis here). The Taleban have not yet published an official reaction to Ghani’s offer; indeed both sides intensified their military activities in the weeks following the offer of talks.

The demonstration was inspired, in part, by the Pashtun Tahafuz (Protection) Movement, which also uses the name parlat (Pashto for ‘sit-in’) and was launched in Islamabad, the capital of Pakistan, on 1 February 2018. The protestors’ core demand was that the Pakistani security establishment stop the torture and extra-judicial killings of Pashtuns following the high-profile death of a young Pashtun shopkeeper, allegedly at the hands of police in Sindh. That protest lasted until 10 February, when Pakistani authorities promised that it would fulfill the demands within a month. The protestors announced the end of the sit-in but warned of future strikes if their demands were ignored.

The Taleban and the government’s reactions

On the first day of the sit-in, local Taleban reportedly welcomed the demonstration and its demands. Provincial authorities also showed an interest in a dialogue with the protestors and reiterated the government’s position that they were ready for peace talks without preconditions.

But the first official statement by the Taleban was less sympathetic (see here in Pashto). On 28 March they told the protestors they “should go to Shurab and Kandahar airbases of [the] American forces and ask them for peace instead coming to Musa Qala.” The statement warned that protestors should not go to Taleban areas because international forces or intelligence services might take advantage of the situation “and something might happen to you.” The statement added that the Taleban “would be compelled to react” if the march were to be instrumentalised, “and then the responsibility will fall on your shoulders.” The statement noted a widespread desire for peace in Afghanistan and claimed that the Taleban had made sacrifices for the sake of security in the country. “It’s now the duty of the whole nation including you [the protestors] to raise your voice against invaders”, the statement said.

There was also serious wavering on the government’s side. When the protestors went to the provincial government’s office in Lashkargah asking for a ceasefire so they could start their march to meet the Taleban, the government asked for time. Khaibar told AAN that the provincial government had told the activists it had submitted their proposal to the National Security Council in Kabul and would soon respond. But no response came before the deadline set by the protestors.

The response of the protestors

The Taleban’s negative message and the lack of a timely and concrete reply from the government provoked a furious response from the protestors. On 29 March, they announced the march to Musa Qala would be delayed and some of them converted their protest to a hunger strike that same day. A video spread on social media showing one of the organisers weeping and pleading for peace. Hashemi, the singer, expressed his anger at both sides (here on Facebook): “You have destroyed the lives of the people. My tears became dry.” Khaibar told AAN that the march would be delayed “until we receive a response from the government [about] whether or not they accept our proposal of ceasefire, at least to present to Taleban that we have this commitment from the government and now this is your turn.”

As the hunger strikers also refused to drink water, six of them soon had to be hospitalised. Seeing this, Sayed Gul Sarhadi, a local journalist based in Lashkargah and a participant of the sit-in, told AAN a group of religious scholars with a reputation for impartiality intervened and pleaded with the hunger strikers to stop. They also offered to mediate between the government and the strikers. The hunger strike was ended after 48 hours. But the protestors remained in their tents and their protest started to spread throughout the country. They also set out conditions for those to join: government officials could not participate; they would not eat in the tents and only drink water (but not bottled mineral water); and slogans and demands should only be about peace; no other slogans were allowed.

A local scholars’ committee consisting of 15 religious figures was formed on 1 April, headed by Sheikh Habibullah, a famous religious scholar in Helmand who was accepted by the protestors as a trustworthy personality. The scholars decided they would also take part in the sit-in and would continue the struggle until their demands for peace were accepted. At the same time, the scholars warned the protestors that preparing any future peace march on Musa Qala would require time for preparation.

On the same day the protests spread to Nawa and Gereshk, two Helmand districts that have been heavily embattled over the past months, and where demonstrators have also set up tents. On 3 April residents of Washir, a third district in the province, gathered to support the sit-in and planned to set up their own tents the following day. Washir is home to conservative Taleban who control 95 per cent of the district. Protest co-organiser Khaibar said the local Taleban had endorsed the demonstration and that their relatives were among the protestors. But “some outsiders” – referring to Taleban from other districts or provinces – were against it, so they decided against erecting a tent there, for fear that a conflict might occur – “and we stand against conflict.” Khaibar added, “We are working on Garmsir district, too.”

On 9 April Khaibar told AAN “We [also] managed to set up tents in Zabul and Kandahar and we are now in Kabul finding the families of the martyrs of Zanbaq square [the 31 May 2017 tanker truck bomb – see here] and other bomb attacks and talking with them. We would erect the tent in Kabul through them.”

How did other parts of the country react?

The protest first caused reactions in neighbouring Kandahar. On March 28, dozens of elders, including members of the provincial council and religious scholars, gathered in the provincial capital and called on the Taleban to give a positive response to the demands of the people raised in Helmand. One of the religious scholars, Mawlawi Muhammad Haq Khatib, said “now it is time the Taleban give a positive respond to the demands of the people regarding peace.” He also said that this parlat should not be limited to Helmand province but should spread countrywide. Khatib is a leading member of De Wolus Ghag (Voice of the People), a local political movement established recently. (1)

In the meantime, in Kabul, another sit-in was launched in support of the demands of the Pashtun Tahafuz Movement in Pakistan at Chaman-e Hozuri, a popular spot near the national stadium. Its participants also voiced their support for the aims of the Helmand peace sit-in. This sit-in was another example of the significant risks linked to such gatherings and demonstrations in Afghanistan, as on its ninth day, on 4 March, an explosion killed one protestor and injured fourteen others. The incident was attributed to a magnetic bomb (media report here). No insurgent group has claimed responsibility for the attack. Shortly afterwards, protestors held a press conference and told journalists that they would continue their demonstration. (2)

On 1 April, members of the Meshrano Jirga, or upper house of parliament, discussed the sit-ins in Helmand and offered their support. Initiated by a Helmandi senator, the house called on the inhabitants of other provinces of the country to support the Helmandis and raise their voices for peace. On 2 April, the Wolesi Jirga, or lower house, followed suit and unanimously declared its support for the Helmand demonstrations.

On the same day, dozens of civil society activists and youths from northern Balkh province gathered at the Hazrat Ali Shrine in Mazar-e Sharif in support of the Helmand protestors with the slogan: “Dear Helmandis! You are not alone. We are with you.” (media report here). Since then, local residents have erected a permanent tent to show their support to Helmandi protestors there, too (see here).

AAN approached several older civil society groups and political movements for their reactions. Raihana Azad, a member of the leadership council of Jombesh-e Roshanayi and MP for Uruzgan province, told AAN on 8 April, “Really, they are the voice of those who are the victims of the war. In this peace protest we hear the voices of mothers who have lost their sons, the voices of the widows who have lost their husbands and the voices of those who have lost their relatives.” Aziz Rafiee the member of Transitional Justice Coordination Group (TJCG) and director of the Afghanistan Civil Society Forum (ACSF) also told AAN that he supported the peace sit-in in Helmand and thinks that it is a response to an “urgent need of the people.” He said he had also done so in the media and hoped for “a fruitful outcome.” Ahmad Parwani, a member of Jombesh-e Taghir wa Rastakhez (Uprising for Change Movement) also welcomed the sit-in. He said their leading members were not currently in Kabul. Otherwise they would have also raised their voices in support of the Helmand sit-in. All three more or less cited the alleged lack of interest in peace on the part of the government and regional powers as reasons why an ‘all-Afghan’ peace movement had not arisen until now. Enthusiastic support also has a different chime to it.

Moving beyond Afghan divides

This is the first time – in spite of significant risks – that people in southern Afghanistan have publicly, and over a sustained period of time, raised their voices against Taleban violence and mobilised publicly, and with such energy. Even the initial unfavourable response has not made them give up; it has actually strengthened their resolve. This protest is also remarkable insofar as it is happening in an area often described as the ‘heartland of the Taleban’.

Indeed, the Taleban control more than half of Helmand’s territory while the government’s hold is limited to the administrative centres of six districts – Nawa, Marja, Nadali, Gereshk, Garmsir and Washer – as well as Lashkargah, the provincial capital. The population in the Taleban-controlled areas provides them with refuge, food and money but it is difficult to say how many do so voluntarily and how many by coercion. It is also clear that the never-ending war has inflicted significant costs to many inhabitants in Helmand province and they are getting more and more tired about this. The protest makes clear that there is dissent due to the Taleban’s violent actions among many in this Pashtun-majority province. Moreover, the Taleban’s control over large areas gives the people an address where they can their concerns and complaints to the Taleban.

The Lashkargah stadium bombing has led those who lost their loved ones to raise their voices, take to the streets, protest against the war and ask for peace, put public pressure on the Taleban. The images of Taleban attacks killing innocent civilians that have spread across social media may have contributed to undermining their prestige and raised questions about the legitimacy of their war. These reactions indicate that people are tired of the fighting and cannot endure further atrocities. As Pashto idiom says: “The power of people is the power of God.” If the civilians can bolster the Taleban, they can also undermine them.

It is unsurprising that leaders from both sides of the conflict have demonstrated so little enthusiasm for the Helmandi protestors. The government took so long to react to their request for a ceasefire, the march on Musa Qala had to be postponed; the official Taleban reaction was even more discouraging. Furthermore, neither side has shown much interest in brokering peace. Since the conclusion of the second peace conference in Kabul, neither party has decreased its military activities. On 2 April, an Afghan airstrike killed and injured at least 150 civilians in Dasht-e Archi district in Kunduz province. This kind of incident drives recruitment for the Taleban and feeds the narrative among insurgents that peace talks are just a money-making project for government officials.

Against this backdrop, the success of the organisers of the Helmand Peace March depends on their ability to keep their initiative up and mobilise more people in their province as well as countrywide. Scores of people have lost relatives in the war and a number of recent, large attacks have generated public outrage as well as protests (see AAN reporting here and here) – this is a large constituency to tap into.

The protest organisers are now systematically reaching out, and, given the number of protest tents that have gone up as well as other support activities, they have achieved much already. Remarkably, the protest has transcended the south-north divide, most notably between Pashtuns and non-Pashtuns. However, the less than enthusiastic reaction from some civil society activists in Kabul that AAN noted indicate that there still seem to be reservations and maybe even scepticism and bias towards what appear to be newcomers on the scene.

The protestors have tried to maintain their impartiality by preserving their distance from the government and by not allowing other interests to take over, hence the ban on slogans on anything other than for peace. They have not heeded, however, the Taleban’s demand that protestors go to US military bases.

It is also striking that ordinary Pashtuns on both sides of the Durand Line who are tired of the insecurity in their particular areas are protesting in large gatherings, rallying young people in mostly peaceful protests. Regardless of whether inspiration is mutual or even whether there are any direct exchanges among those mobilising, organisers on both sides claim they want to build civil movements for obtaining basic rights and have expressed commitment to the peaceful pursuit of democratic aims.

Edited by Graeme Smith and Thomas Ruttig

(1) Some sources from Kandahar told AAN said Khateb was close to the Karzai family and that the head of the provincial council, another Karzai ally, was present at the meeting.

(2) On 23 July 2016, the big TUTAP protest (AAN analysis here) in Kabul organised by the Enlightenment Movement (Jombesh-e Roshnayi) was attacked by suicide bombers causing a large number of casualties (UN report here).

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

The Afghanistan Election Conundrum (7): A deficient polling centre assessment

Mon, 16/04/2018 - 04:00

A fundamental question ahead of any Afghan election is where polling centres are located. In the past, they have been located in ways that deliberately disenfranchised some voters. New regulations designed to prevent this are aimed at making sure locations are ‘balanced’, ie there are now strict criteria which should ensure centres are near voters, their number is proportional to the local population and they are not sited in insecure areas. Given how vulnerable this aspect of Afghan elections is to manipulation, the Independent Electoral Commission’s (IEC) assessment of polling centres is crucial to the credibility of the forthcoming provincial and district elections (now scheduled for 20 October 2018). Here, AAN’s Ali Yawar Adili takes a close look at the IEC’s assessment and examines the doubts which have surrounded its findings.

This is part sevenof a series of dispatches about preparations for the parliamentaryelections. Part one dealt with political challenges; part two with an initial set of technical problems, including the date, the budget and the use of biometric technology; part three with electoral constituencies; part four with controversies around the appointment of one new IEC member, after its former chief was sacked by President Ashraf Ghani; part five with a demand by political parties to change the electoral system and; part six with the date of the polls and with voter registration.

Why do polling centres matter?

Polling centres are the actual places where voters cast their ballots. They are often located in schools, mosques, government offices, large private homes or even in tents when no sufficiently large building is available. For example, many polling stations for Kuchis have been in tents during previous elections (see here).

Each polling centre contains at least two polling stations, one for men and one for women. (1) Identifying how many polling centres are needed and where they should be located is fundamental to preparing for any election in Afghanistan, a country marred by conflict and with insufficient – and by now, largely unfavourable – experience with elections.

Prior to the 2014 elections, AAN released its own analysis of what to watch out for in elections and their preparation. Polling centres featured prominently in this analysis. On the one hand, AAN argued, polling centres need to be known and accessible, so that voters keen to vote are not disenfranchised. On the other hand, the number of polling centres needs to be manageable, as each additional centre increases the likelihood of fraud, whether this is petty, spontaneous and localised, or large scale and well-prepared. This is especially the case in insecure areas where monitoring is limited. The more ballots sent to areas that are out of reach of observers, the greater the likelihood of receiving back large numbers of fraudulent votes.

The establishment of the polling centre list is, in itself, an important process. In advance of previous elections, the number of polling centres was altered several times. This led to complaints that the changes were intended either to disenfranchise or favour voters in certain constituencies (see this AAN paper) (2).

What does the new legal framework say?

The 2016 Electoral Law (see AAN’s previous reports here and here) goes further than its predecessors. It does not merely define what polling centres and polling stations are, but also stipulates that polling centres should be established in a balanced manner. In this context, ‘balanced’ means taking into consideration the number and geographical location of voters, so that the proportion of centres to voters and the proximity of centres to voters is the same across the country. This extended provision was included, based on recommendations by the Special Electoral Reform Commission (SERC), which was established by the government in 2015 to come up with proposals for electoral reform. The SERC specifically proposed that polling centres be revised in order to ensure “easy access” by voters to the centres. Article seven of the Electoral Law states that:

The Commission is obliged to establish polling centers taking into consideration the number of voters and their geographical locations in a balanced manner;
The Commission makes available all materials necessary for election at the polling centers prior to the election day, and provide the possible facilities to the voters and candidates to participate in elections and exercise their right to vote.

Based on the Electoral Law, the IEC developed and approved a regulation for a polling centre assessment. This was reported by the IEC on 9 May 2017 in a press release, which said that it had also approved the procedure and operational plan and that the budget for the assessment had been submitted to the government for it to provide funds. The regulation (available in Dari here) specified ten criteria for the allocation of polling centres, as follows:

Polling centres should be established in schools, or other public facilities if there are no schools;
A polling centre should be established for each residential area with a minimum of 200 voters, and the distance between a voter’s residence and the polling centre should be a maximum of three kilometres in urban areas and five kilometres in rural areas;
The minimum distance between two polling centres in densely populated urban areas should be one kilometre;
Each polling centre should consist of at least two polling stations;
The IEC determines the number of voters in each polling station and the number of polling stations in each polling centre for each election through a separate document and based on the voters list;
The existing polling centre list and Central Statistics Office’s data about the population will be used as the basis for allocating new polling centres;
The location of polling centres should be suitable for providing safe logistical services;
The location should also be suitable in terms of the safety and security of election workers, voters, agents, observers and of elections materials;
The polling stations within a polling centre should be large enough to be used for polling and counting activities;
Telecommunication coverage is an advantage in the allocation of a polling centre, but is not a determinant criterion.

The regulation also said that, in cases where these criteria do not exist when selecting a polling centre, the head of the IEC provincial office, in consultation with local authorities could recommend another suitable alternative location, which should be approved by the IEC central office. (3) Officials from the United Nations who are dealing with the Afghan elections, in conversation with AAN, said it was the first time the IEC has had such a clear regulation and called it “a big achievement.”

The IEC’s 2017 ‘countrywide’ polling centre assessment marred by doubts

As mentioned in the regulation, the point of departure for the polling centre assessment was the list of existing polling centres from the 2014 election. The assessment was, in practice, aimed at analysing whether the existing centres fulfilled the new criteria, or if adjustments had to be made. According to the IEC, it had a master list of 7,180 polling centres from 2014. However, not all of those centres were activated during the 2014 election due to security reasons. At that time, a list published on the IEC website contained 6,775 polling centres with 21,663 polling stations, 12,705 for men, and 8,958 for women (see AAN’s previous report on how the list changed constantly here). It went through even further revisions as per security reviews, and the number of polling centres that actually opened in the first round of 2014 presidential elections was 5,928. (4)

The IEC’s current assessment began on 7 August 2017and was conducted by 1,000 temporary staff (who, according to the IEC, had been hired and trained for this purpose), first in the provincial capitals and then in the districts. According to an IEC update, from 30 August 2017, the staff used tablet computers with the capability to obtain GPS and other information. The tablets, it said, had been designed to work “online and offline,” so that they could automatically transmit data from an area without internet coverage to headquarters when they came into an area with internet connection.

The IEC’s 30 August 2017 update also provided a breakdown of territorial coverage of the assessment (press release in Dari here). It said it had been able to access 385 (92 per cent) of the country’s 418 administrative units, but did not specify how many polling centres it had been able to visit in those units. (5) The IEC’s press release added that, in the remaining “33 administrative units (8 per cent) with high security threats, the polling centre assessment has not been done, but [the IEC continues to] work to pave the way for [their] assessment.” Again, it did not specify how many polling centres were located in those areas. On 28 October 2017, Wasima Badghisi, the IEC deputy chair for operations, told the local website Khabarnama that, if the IEC could not assess these areas before election day, it would approve sites used in previous elections.

The IEC, in its first open session to decide the polling centres, on 7 November 2017, indeed made the decision that polling centres that had not been assessed due to security threats would be retained in their previous location, so that eligible voters were not disenfranchised should the security of those areas on election day be ensured. This indicates that the IEC had already come to terms with fears that it would not be able to assess these areas in advance of election day. In early January 2018, AAN received a list from the IEC that showed that 32 districts in 14 provinces had not been assessed. (6) Afghan media outlets also published a slightly shorter list. The lists largely overlap and include well-known areas of intense Taleban activity. On 18 February 2018, the head of the IEC field operation department, Zmaria Qalamyar, told AAN that the list of 32 districts was correct and that a 33rd district, named in an IEC press release was either a mistake, or that one ‘administrative unit’ had been added later to the list of those units that had been assessed.

Some election observers doubted the IEC’s claim of having assessed 92 per cent of the country’s districts. Sughra Sa’adat of the Transparent Election Foundation of Afghanistan (TEFA) told AAN on12 September 2017 that TEFA’s observations showed that “three districts in Balkh province (Chemtal, plus two others) haven’t been assessed at all. Out of Ghor’s ten districts, only three and in the provinces of Sar-e Pul, Faryab and Jawzjan, only the provincial capitals’ districts have been assessed.” She told AAN that TEFA’s assessment was based on observations collected from all 34 of the country’s provinces collected by 43 partner organisations which work with TEFA, either under a project contract, or as volunteers.

Sa’adat also raised concerns about the assessment in general. She said that “in the last elections, we had a lot of ghost polling centres, others inaccessible to women and [or] located in the houses of powerful men.” (This is confirmed by AAN research; see here and here.) She indicated that this might be the same this time.

Similarly, on 18 February 2018, Muhammad Yusuf Rashid, the executive director of the Free and Fair Election Foundation of Afghanistan (FEFA), another major observer group, wondered how the IEC – which had announced that the aim of the polling centre assessment was to balance polling centres – could do that, if it did not know the exact number of voters. A UN election specialist in conversation with AAN said that it was a ‘chicken and egg’ problem. This meant that it would also be hard to tie voters to specific polling centres if the IEC does not have a list of polling centres (according to article six of the Electoral Law, a voter should be tied to a specific polling centre, ie they should vote at the same poling centre where they registered to vote). Rashid also said that FEFA’s follow-up research showed the IEC employees had not visited many polling centres. Instead, they had either met elders or talked to people on the phone, asking if they were happy with the polling centres used in 2014.

The UN also seems to have its doubts. On 25 September 2017, the UN Special Representative to Afghanistan, Tadamichi Yamamoto,reported to the UN Security Council that the IEChad “completed its assessment of polling stations, reportedly[our emphasis] reaching more than 90% of districts.” Together with voter registration as the next step, he said this “would lay the foundation for what will be the most important electoral reforms since 2001: the establishment of polling station-specific voter lists and the completion of a viable voter registry.” (see here.)

Shahla Haque, the acting head of the IEC secretariat, (7) in response to the allegations, told AAN on 20 March 2018 that the IEC, in addition to the fact that it could not access 32 districts at all, also could not assess some polling centres in the districts that it accessed. She said that 32 districts included only around 360 polling centres, while the IEC could not assess an aggregate number of 1,744 polling centres and that this was what the IEC had reported publicly.

Shahla, in response to Rashid, told AAN that it was important for the IEC that employees brought the coordinates and other physical specifications of the polling centres they had assessed. This, she said, would not be possible unless they had visited those centres in person.

The outcome of the assessment

On 6 December 2017, during a consultation forum with political parties and civil society organisations (also attended by the author), the IEC gave these detailed statistics:

Out of 7,180 former polling centres (the IEC’s master list of polling centres from 2014), 5,436 (76%) were assessed and 1,744 (24per cent) were not assessed due to insecurity.

1,015 polling centres (14.2 per cent) were moved from their 2014 sites to an alternative location, 617 (61 per cent) to schools and 398 (39 per cent) to mosques.

1,341 new centres were proposed. This would have increased the total number of centres to 8,521, an increase of 18 per cent. However, out of these, 1,176 (14 per cent) were found to be contrary to IEC criteria, while 586 others were merged.

In the end, 7,355 centres were approved. This number includes the 1,744 centres (23.7 per cent) which could not be assessed because of insecurity. Crucially, it is not known whether fulfil the new criteria or not.

A provincial breakdown of the centres can be seen in footnote 8.

Criticism from within the IEC

Apart from doubts about the actual territorial scope of the assessment, there were also questions – even within the IEC itself – as to whether or not the assessment achieved its objectives. For instance, the media received a copy of a letter (see here in which IEC Field Operations Chief Qalamyar wrote critically to the head of the IEC secretariat on 24 November 2017 that, despite the fact that the assessment was considered a huge achievement, the GIS (Geographical Information System) information showed that it had not met one important goal, to balance the polling centre assessment. He also called into question the budget and the efforts invested in the project.In a conversation with AAN on 7 January 2018, Qalamyar gave more detail:

I will not tell you the names of the provinces, but in some provinces, for each three villages within a radius of ten kilometres and with 1000 voters, one polling centre has been allocated, while in some other provinces, for each nine villages within a radius of six kilometres and with four thousand voters, one polling centre has been allocated. [This] will lead to an imbalanced distribution of polling centres.

If this is correct, it will affect the accessibility of polling centres to voters in certain areas. This, in turn, might lead to their disenfranchisement, as well as violating the Electoral Law’s provision that calls for balanced allocation of the polling centres.

Pajhwok News Agency reported on 10 December 2017 that, as a result of the new polling centre assessment, the number of polling centres had decreased in Nangrahar, despite its having seen a high rate of returnees and so has more voters. The number of polling centres for Nangrahar approved by the IEC (on 29 November 2017) is 457, a decrease of 41 polling centres from 498 in 2014. (see here.)

On 27 December 2017, the IEC’s Shahla Haque rejected Qalamyar’s criticism that polling centres had not been balanced. She told AAN that his criticism wasbased on additional criteria that he had wanted to introduce (such as the territorial size of each province). She further pointed to the on-going complaints procedure that could lead to adjustments to the polling centre list.

Allegations of corruption

In the process of carrying out the polling centre assessment, the IEC also found itself dealing with two major allegations of corruption. These allegations were associated with the procurement or the assessment itself. First, on 14 September 2017, the IEC announced that it had suspended the head of its field operations, Zmarai Qalamyar. This came after the IEC obtained an audio tape in which, as the (former) head of the IEC secretariat, Imam Muhammad Warimach told Tolonews, Qalamyar allegedly asked the head of a provincial IEC for 500,000 Afghanis. Warimach said Qalamyar couldbe heard demanding, “just cash three hundred thousand of it and keep the other two hundred thousand and pay the salaries.” (see here). It is unclear how this audio was obtained.

An IEC member who has listened to the tape and preferred not to be named told AAN that actually a larger sum was at stake in this case and that Qalamyar had spoken to the head of the provincial election office in Kandahar, asking him to return 1.5 million Afghanis allocated for the polling centre assessment in that province. The IEC has not published any report about budget allocation and expenditures or the corruption allegations. It was not clear, therefore, whether the 1.5 million afghanis was part of, or the full amount of the money spent on the assessment in Kandahar. The IEC member told AAN, “Ghost people were sent to carry out the polling centre assessment.”

This IEC member claimed to have told IEC officials to send the clip to the judicial agencies for prosecution and that, as a result of this pressure, Qalamyar had resigned on 6 September 2017. IEC spokesman (now chair) Gula Jan Abdul Badi Sayyad (9) told AAN on 23 October 2017 that Qalamyar’s resignation had been approved and that the case was now with the Attorney General’s Office. Later, on 6 December 2017, Sayyad backtracked and claimed that the Attorney General’s Office had sent a letter to the IEC saying Qalamyar could continue to work with the IEC and that he was already back at work.

On 7 January 2018, Qalamyar himself provided a diametrically conflicting story about the corruption allegation against him in a conversation with AAN. He alleged that the Kandahar provincial election officer holds two tazkeras (ID cards), one from Kandahar and one from Zabul, but had concealed his Kandahar tazkera and showed only his Zabul tazkera when he was hired as the provincial election officer in Kandahar. Qalamyar said that, after he received the provincial election officer’s Kandahar tazkera in 2017, he notified the Human Resources Department that the Kandahar provincial election officer had two tazkeras and asked whether they should continue to work with him or not. Qalamyar said that, according to the law, provincial election officers could not work in their own province. Qalamyar also alleged that, since then, the Kandahar provincial election officer has held a grudge against him and had forged the audiotape. He said he had resigned after the allegation came to light, but withdrew it after the Attorney General’s Office cleared him.

In the second corruption allegation against the IEC, an IEC member told AAN on 7 September 2017 that there had also been a misuse of resources during the purchase of the tablets used for the assessment. This allegation was about over-pricing and violation of procurement requirements. The IEC purchased them for 46,000 afghanis (around 700 USD) each, while, both according to IEC sources and AAN enquiries, the market price for such tablets is between 200 and 500 USD. The tablets were also purchased using a single-source procurement procedure. Another IEC employee confirmed both these facts to AAN. According to rule 22 of the general procurement rules of procedure, such a single-source procurement may only be used where: 1) a particular potential bidder has exclusive rights in respect of the provision of goods, works and services or the procurement can only be conducted from single source; 2) there is an emergency need for the goods, works or services, involving an imminent threat to public health, welfare or safety or an imminent threat of damage to property, and engaging in open tendering proceedings or other procurement methods would be impracticable or; 3) where the estimated value of the procurement does not exceed 5000 afghanis. (See the Dari version here).

Again, Qalamyar was involved in this issue. A source from the UN, which is privy to the IEC’s internal discussions, told AAN that Qalamyar very particularly pushed for single-source procurement. Qalamyar rejected this in a conversation with AAN. He even asserted that he was against this method. He said the IEC had not faced an emergency and there was more than one dealer readily available in the market.

However, then IEC spokesman (now chair), Sayyad, played down this allegation of corruption in two conversations with AAN, on 23 October 2017 and again on 6 December 2017. He claimed there had been insufficient time available for open-source or limited tendering methods, but the IEC would still deal with the issue seriously.

AAN is not in a position to judge who is right in either of these two cases. However, the allegations have left a stain on the IEC’s credibility. Some Afghan election observer organisations have expressed similar concerns. For example, Jandad Spinghar, the director of Election & Transparency Watch Organization of Afghanistan (ETWA), was quoted as saying that, although corruption existed everywhere, within the IEC it could “create distrust among the people about elections.” (see here.)

On-going assessments

There are two other assessments of polling centres.

One: Security assessment

After its approval, the IEC submitted the list of the 7,355 polling centres to the security agencies for a security review. Coordinating and approving the final list of polling centres that will open on election day with the security institutions responsible for the security of each of the centres has been the procedure ahead of every previous election.

On 18 February 2018, the head of the IEC field operation department, Zmaria Qalamyar, told AAN that, according to their procedure, the security agencies should provide their list to the IEC four months before election day. This would be 20 June 2018 for the new election date set on 20 October 2018 (it was scheduled after it became clear that the previously planned date, 7 July 2018, was not feasible). (10) After 20 June, the security agencies will no longer be able to clear any additional polling centre on the 7,355 list, but could still cancel centres which are under threat. According to Qalamyar, the IEC does not have any say in the security assessment of polling centres. If security agencies, for example, say they cannot ensure the security of a certain polling centre, then the IEC cannot open it.

On 25 March 2018, Senior Deputy Minister of the Interior Murad Ali Murad provided the security agencies’ assessment to the IEC. He said that out of the total 7,355 centres, 1,122 remain under “medium threat,” 1,120 face “high-level” threats and another 948 are not under the control of government forces. This would mean that out of the 7,355 polling centres proposed by the IEC, 3,190 or 43 per cent are either under a medium or high threat, or are in areas not under government control.

On 5 April 2018, Qalamyar told AAN that this meant the security agencies needed to take extra measures for those facing threats (both medium and high) and to regain the control of areas in which the 948 centres were located. This would be necessary for the delivery of election material, voter registration – another key step that the IEC plans to carry out between 14 April and 12 June 2018 (see also AAN analysis and on election day itself.)

Two: the ongoing complaints process

Simultaneously with the security assessment, a complaints process has been underway with regard to the IEC assessment’s results. According to the Electoral Law (article 28.1), the Electoral Complaints Commission (ECC) is responsible for addressing challenges and complaints arising from negligence, violation and identification of crimes related to elections. Pursuant to this provision, the ECC said, on 29 November 2017, it was ready to receive complaints regarding the balancing of polling centres, either at ECC headquarters in Kabul, or the IEC provincial offices. It said it had dispatched working teams to the zones between 2 and 11 December 2017.

The ECC has five members. Three are appointed for five years and two for three years. In addition to the central ECC, Provincial Electoral Complaints Commissions, comprising three members, have to be established one month before the candidates’ registration starts. Two members of the provincial bodies are appointed by the central ECC and take into consideration gender (there should be one woman and one man), while the third member is appointed by the Independent Human Rights Commission of Afghanistan upon the recommendation of the central ECC and approval of the president. According to article 29.6 of the Electoral Law, the government may also appoint two international election experts as non-voting members of the ECC in consultation with the United Nations for the purpose of ensuring further transparency in addressing challenges and complaints arising from the electoral negligence and violation. On 30 March 2018, ECC spokesman Ali Reza Ruhani told AAN that the provision of the appointment of non-voting international members was intended to boost the confidence of the people, as well as the international community if there are disputes, but it was not binding. He said the need for such an appointment has not come about yet. UN sources told AAN that some political party officials had flagged this; without being more specific, they wished the UN to play a greater role in elections.

On 16 December 2017, the ECC extended the complaints period for ten days until 21 December 2017, but without mentioning the reason (see here) (11). On 1 February 2018, it announced it had received 373 complaints from the provinces regarding the IEC’s performance in carrying out the polling centre assessment. It said it had sent the list of complaints to “the relevant authorities” to obtain the required information and would make decisions thereafter. The EEC indicated that the IEC had asked for one week in which to respond. After a preliminary review and analysis of the complaints, it published a list of them. According to Ruhani, this included an analysis of who complained and what was the complaint about (see it in Dari here).It showed various types of complaints. Some demanded more polling centres be allocated or reallocated to a certain area in various provinces (due to a number of reasons, including long distances from the polling centre, concentration of population, removal of polling centres and lack of polling centres).

The ECC held an open meeting on 28 March 2018 with representatives of the election observer groups to address the 373 complaints. (Ruhani had confirmed already to AAN on 20 March 2018 that the ECC had received the IEC’s response in three categories: invalid complaints; valid complaints which should be acted upon and; those that required the IEC to send its teams to the areas to reassess polling centres.) The ECC made the following decisions for these 373 complaints:

19 complaints were plausible and accorded with the specified criteria such that these polling centres should be established;
three cases had not been surveyed due to security problems;
five complaints were valid and new polling stations should be established on election day;
13 complaints were against the removal of polling centres, but it was established that the centres had not been removed;
the locations of 30 cases had not been given to the EEC by the IEC;
44 complaints were duplicate cases;
71 cases needed further review by the IEC’s technical team;
184 complaints were considered implausible and rejected by the IEC, but needed more discussion and review;
There were complaints about four polling centres that did not exist.

On 5 April 2018, the IEC’s Qalamyar told AAN that it had added 11 centres based on the complaints procedure. This increased the total number of centres to 7,366. As the complaint process is ongoing, there could be further changes to the initial 7,355 polling centre list approved by the IEC.

Conclusion: the ‘balance’ of polling centres still in doubt

The IEC worked on the existing master list of 7,180 polling centres from the 2014 elections (not all actually used) to assess whether or not they met the new criteria established for the coming elections. The IEC claimed it could not assess 32 districts and 1,744 of the centres –almost one quarter of the total – due to security reasons.Although it stated it would work to ensure those districts and polling centres would be assessed before the election, the practical follow-up so far shows it has put no urgency into this task. Indeed, these districts and polling centres may not be assessed at all. If the IEC is not able to open polling centres for voter registration and voting in areas that were open during the 2014 election, this would be a serious matter, the effective disenfranchisement of the population there.

As a result of this exercise, the IEC has, so far, approved 7,366 polling centres for the next elections. Thishas been one of the key steps that the commission has taken in preparation for the next parliamentary and district council elections. As a complaints procedure and a separate security assessment of the centres are both ongoing, the final numbers may still change.

The IEC’s polling centres assessment was designed to find out also whether the centres’ distribution across the country’s population was balanced, or needed adjusting, and whether or not the centres were accessible to the voters. Although the IEC has, for the first time, put in place a clear regulation that specified the criteria for measuring this, doubts remain as to whether they were used in practice, as claimed by the commission. Some election observer groups, in particular, have cast doubts on the number of polling centres that the IEC claimed to have assessed, saying the number of districts and polling centres that remain un-assessed must be larger than those admitted to by the IEC. They have also accused the IEC of not carrying out part of the assessment on the ground, but by using indirect, remote methods. Doubts about the validity of the assessment have been compounded by allegations of corruption, which have not been refuted convincingly by the IEC.

As yet, the IEC’s polling centre assessment exercise remains deficient. If matters are not clarified, this means the integrity of the forthcoming elections is already in doubt.

Edited by Sari Kouvo, Thomas Ruttig and Kate Clark

(1) The size of a polling centre can vary greatly. Large polling centres can have up to 12 polling stations. Every polling centre has a code indicating the province, district and centre. Within the centre, each polling station is also numbered. (see AAN analysis here) A polling station is provided with one ballot box per election and a maximum of 600 ballot papers (see also this AAN’s paper here).

(2) For instance, as AAN wrote previously, “in June 2009, a leaked letter from the Ministry of Interior suggesting to decrease the number of planned polling stations in the North by 1000, due to shortage of security staff, met with protests in the media and led to allegations that certain actors were seeking to disenfranchise the non-Pashtun constituencies. In the south of Afghanistan, several interlocutors commented in the run-up to the elections on the potential willingness of local government officials to sacrifice security in certain districts where opposition candidates may make a strong showing. Due to insecurity, mainly in the Pashtun areas, several hundred planned polling stations may need to be relocated to more secure areas (in many cases next to existing polling stations or into the houses of tribal elders), while others may not open at all”

(3) The IEC in its polling centre assessment regulation also said it would determine the number of necessary mobile polling stations prior to each election. These are the polling stations to which voters are not specifically linked. It further said that these mobile polling stations would be set up in; 1) hospitals, prisons and military bases, one polling station for each 100 or more eligible voters; 2) impassable areas and villages that do not meet the abovementioned criteria. These would be identified during the polling centre assessment and reported to the IEC. The IEC may then decide to allocate mobile polling stations to those areas, based on their circumstances.

(4) Both Shahla Haque, the acting head of the IEC secretariat, and Zmarai Qalamyar, the head of the IEC field operations, told AAN that the 2014 polling centre list was based, in turn, on an earlier IEC polling centre assessment conducted in 2011 which, according to a concept note developed by IEC field operations, dated 24 June 2011 (which AAN received from Qalamyar) aimed to establish a “robust polling centre database (with polling centre risk factors, staffing needs and logistical support requirement).” According to this concept note, the assessment included two months of data collection and data compilation each with later updates.

It provided the following sample from the then-current list of a polling centre, which the concept note said, was not sufficient and that “many other facts about a given polling location must be managed.”

Province District Polling Center Name and Location PC Code Est. Voters Total PS/

Male Female Kuchi Herat PROVINCIAL CENTER Sultan High school, PD 1 2401001 4500 8 5 3 0

Both IEC sources provided the following list of the data that it proposed be collected for the assessment of polling centres. It pointed out this was still not exhaustive.

GPS coordinates
Village/nahia (urban neighbourhood)
Photos of building
Type of building: mosque/school/madrassa/private house/open field/clinic
Chairs and tables available (yes/no)
Contact who manages the site on a day to day basis
Number of rooms available
Communications infrastructure for voice and data services
- Mobile network (AWCC, Roshan, Etisalat)
Village catchment by the polling center (to be tested against G[eographical] I[nformation] S[ystem] data)
Access mode: road/track
Smallest vehicle access: truck/4X4/donkey/camel/helicopter
Tents needed (yes/no)
Male and female stations co- located (yes/no)
Kuchi stations (yes/no). If yes, which season are they present? Where are they during the off-season? (This will need considerable planning and accurate information in order not to disenfranchise them.)

(5)According to a list of the Independent Directorate of Local Governance (IDLG) that AAN received from its spokeswoman Munera Yusufzada on 18 December 2017, there are currently 364 official districts and 21 ‘temporary’ (unofficial) districts in Afghanistan. On 27 December 2017, Shahla Haque, the acting head of the IEC secretariat, told AAN that the IEC also used these figures (364 plus 21) and added the 34 provincial capitals, but not the urban districts, called nahias or nawahi (which, however, would give a total figure of 419, not 418 ‘administrative units’). (More on the relevance of this in a future dispatch about the district council elections.)

The IDLG in an 11 June 2017 official letter to the IEC (AAN has obtained a copy of it), introduced 21 temporary districts to the IEC to include in the electoral processes. According to the letter, ‘temporary districts’ refer to those districts that have been approved, after entry into force of the 2004 Constitution by the president of the country due to some security considerations.

However, they have yet to be approved by the parliament. However, according to another list that AAN was given by Obaid Ekhlas, executive manager to the deputy head of IDLG in mid-February 2018, there are 384 official and 23 temporary districts.

(6) This is the district list that AAN has received:

1) Maidan Wardak: Jaghatu; 2) Nangarhar: Hisarak; 3) Baghlan: Dahana-ye Ghori; 4) Ghazni: Zanakhan (under Taleban control), 5) Giro (only district centre with the government) 6) Ajristan (only district centre with the government) 7) Nawa;; 8) Paktika: Neka, 9) Gyan and 10) Dela; 11) Badakhshan: Warduj and 12) Yamgan (both are completely under the Taleban (see this AAN’s report); 13) Kunduz: Qulbad and 14) Gul Tapa of (both under the Taleban control); 15) Urozgan: Chora, 16) Shahid-e Hassas and 17) Chinarto; 18) Kandahar: Miyaneshin, 19) Shorabak and 20) Reg; 21) Faryab: Kohistan; 22) Helmand: Nawzad, 23) Sangin, 24) Musa Qala, 25) Reg (Khanneshin), 26) Baghran and 27) Disho; 28) Badghis: Ghormach; 29) Herat: Farsi, 30) Zer Koh and31) Pusht Koh; 32) Farah: Bakwa.

(7) Shahla Haque was appointed as the acting head of the IEC secretariat (also known as CEO) on 16 January 2018. This came after the former head, Imam Muhammad Warimach, was dismissed by President Ashraf Ghani on 21 October 2017 (see AAN’s previous reports here and here). Before this, Shahla was the head of the IEC training department. According to the electoral law, the IEC should introduce three candidates to the president who appoints one as the CEO. The IEC advertised the position with a six-day (20-26 February 2018) deadline for application. According to an IEC press release, 40 potential candidates had collected application forms, but only 29 people actually applied. The IEC started shortlisting on 12 March 2018. Shahla Haque herself toldAAN that she did not apply for the position as she lacked some legal requirements – the applicant should have degrees in certain fields that did not include her medical field. A UN election specialist expressed concern that, if Shahla were replaced, things could unravel, especially if a new CEO with no experience was appointed because, according to this source, things had been moving well with the election preparations since she became the CEO.

(8) The IEC approved the following polling centres in four sessions:

On 7 November 2017, for the following seven provinces: Samangan (115, increased from 101), Jawzjan (129, increased from 126), Kunduz (220, increased from 219), Nimruz (67, increased from 62), Sar-e Pul (149, increased from 143), Logar (82, decreased from 84) and Farah (224, decreased from 227). (see here.)

On 13 November 2017, for the following nine provinces: Baghlan (284, increased from 281), Badakhshan (322, increased from 315 in 2014), Ghor (289, increased from 240), Faryab (238, increased from 216), Kunar (137, increased from 119), Uruzgan (65, increased from 60), Zabul (99, increased from 81), Helmand (246, increased from 219) and Parwan (170, increased from 164). (see here.)

On 22 November 2018, for the following seven provinces: Paktia (197, decreased from 212), Panjshir (97, decreased from 108), Khost (192, increased from 186), Badghis (210, increased from 197), Kapisa (93, decreased from 107), Herat (462, decreased from 480) and Maidan Wardak (157, decreased from 160). (see here.)

On 29 November 2017, for the following 11 provinces: Kabul (553, decreased from 557), Balkh (314, decreased from 319), Bamyan (220, increased from 188), Paktika (237, decreased from 266), Daikundi (256, increased from 184), Kandahar (225, decreased from 245), Ghazni (406, increased from 397), Laghman (123, increased from 136), Nangarhar (457, decreased from 498), Takhar (241, increased from 215) and Nuristan (79, increased from 77). (see here) All the above links above include tables for each province.

(9) These allegations of corruption (as well as divisions within the IEC) also provided an opportunity for political groups to question the credibility of the IEC and demand the replacement of all of the IEC – and ECC – members with new ones. (See AAN’s previous report here) As a result, President Ghani sacked the IEC chairman on 15 November 2017 and a new IEC member was appointed on 13 January 2018. (See AAN’s previous reports here and here).

On 31 January 2018, the IEC elected its former spokesman Sayyad as its chairman for two and half years and Wasima Badghisi as deputy for operation and Mazallah Dawlati as deputy for finance and administration both for a period of one year. However, it has yet to elect a spokesman who, according to the Electoral Law, also serves as its secretary. According to paragraph two of article 11 of the Electoral Law, the chairperson is elected for a period of two years and six months, and the deputies and secretary (spokesperson) for a period of one year.

(10)For instance, before the 2010 parliamentary elections, the security institutions decided that 938 of the 6,835 originally planned polling centres (ie 13.7 per cent) could not be secured. The IEC accepted this in its final list of polling centres, which then consisted of 5,897 polling centres, representing a total of 18,731 planned polling stations. (See this AAN’s paper).

(11)According to the IEC regulation for complaints arising from the polling centre assessment, the IEC has to issue its final decision about the complaints received and send it to the IEC within 30 days for implementation (a Dari version of this regulation is available here).

Categories: Defence`s Feeds

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The Afghanistan Analysts Network (AAN)

The Eid Ceasefire: Allowing Afghans to imagine their country at peace

Eid Mubarak from AAN to All Our Readers

How to Fight the Booming Opiate Economy? Harsher and progressive laws, but to no avail

Peace (hopefully) for a few days: A ceasefire for Eid as Helmand marchers approach Kabul

Why Farah? A short history of the local insurgency (II)

Surrounding the Cities: The meaning of the latest battle for Farah (I)

How to End the Afghan War? A new publication on peace reviewed

Widespread Violence yet Perpetrators go Unpunished: A new UN report on violence against Afghan women

The Afghanistan Election Conundrum (8): Controversies over voter registration

Uprising, ALP and Taleban in Andar: The arc of government failure

The State of Aid and Poverty in 2018: A new look at aid effectiveness in Afghanistan

Still under the IS’s Black Flag: Qari Hekmat’s ISKP island in Jawzjan after his death by drone

Two New Reports on Afghan Civilian Casualties: Gruelling, but important reading

Inside and Outside the System: New AAN report on Afghanistan’s political parties published

An April Day That Changed Afghanistan 4: The evolution of the PDPA and its relations with the Soviet Union

An April Day That Changed Afghanistan 3: The legacy of the Saur Revolution’s war crimes

An April Day that Changed Afghanistan 2: Afghans remember the ‘Saur Revolution’

An April Day That Changed Afghanistan 1: Four decades after the leftist takeover

Going Nationwide: The Helmand peace march initiative

The Afghanistan Election Conundrum (7): A deficient polling centre assessment

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