By Eric Vandenbroeck and co-workers
Afghanistan today
One year ago, the
democratic government of Afghanistan collapsed.
The humiliating evacuation of U.S. military forces, civilians, and roughly
100,000 Afghans remain a sore spot for Washington and its allies. The Taliban
regime has ruled the country ever since. Levels of violence throughout the
country have been dramatically reduced—but so, too, have women's rights, the
freedom of the media, and the safety of those who supported the overthrown
democratic government. Questions about the new state of affairs abound. Should
the international community recognize the Taliban? Will the Taliban moderate
themselves? Can diplomacy or sanctions compel them to do so? Is a new
international terrorist threat forming under the Taliban’s watch?
And an even more
pressing question over the country: Is the Afghan civil war that started in
1978 finally over? For four decades, Afghanistan tore itself apart. Mujahideen
fought communists. Warlords fought warlords. The Taliban fought the
Northern Alliance. The democratic republic’s army fought the Taliban. In the
process, more than two million Afghans were killed or wounded, and more than
five million became refugees. Last year’s withdrawal of foreign
forces from the country ended that cycle and allowed the Taliban to consolidate
control—at least for the time being. Pockets of resistance to
Taliban rule, the Taliban’s continued embrace of the tactics of terrorism,
and foreign intervention could all potentially rekindle the civil war in
ways that are not apparent now. Today appears to be a new peace
period, maybe just a pause in Afghanistan’s prolonged trauma. Washington’s
ability to do much about this is limited. The most important thing is to be
cognizant of how previous interventions prevented the civil war from ending.
Getting involved in Afghanistan again to mitigate risks to U.S. national
security would pose an even greater risk: worsening the tragedy for the Afghan
people.
The Soviets regarded Central Asia as their vulnerable southern flank and were
eager to project their power into Afghanistan and the Middle East to protect
the region. The Western powers regarded the whole of Southwest Asia as an
oil-rich zone vital to the West's economy that was within striking distance of
the Soviets.
Far from a monolithic movement, the term “Taliban” encompasses everything from old
hard-liners of the pre-9/11 Afghan regime to small groups that adopt the name
as a ‘flag of convenience. Plus, the Afghan-Pakistani border is an unnatural
political overlay on a fragmented landscape that is virtually impossible for a
central government to control.
The Taliban groups
also were never defeated in 2001, when the United States moved to topple their
government in the wake of the 9/11 attacks. They primarily declined combat in
the face of overwhelmingly superior military force. Though they were not, at
that moment, an insurgent force, their moves were classic guerrilla behavior,
and their quick transition from the seat of power back to such tactics is a
reminder of how well and how painfully schooled Afghans have been in the
insurgent arts over the last several decades.
Afghanistan has
never been entirely peaceful. Tribal feuds, government repression, border
skirmishes, and dynastic plots have been part of Afghan life for centuries. It
is a hard place to govern. Tribal norms place a high value on the individuality
of every member of a tribe, and no government—including the monarchy that ruled
the country from 1747 to 1973—has ever been able to control the country’s
hundreds of tribes, subtribes, and clans. Religious leaders—village mullahs,
Islamic scholars, and judges—also play an essential role in society. They, too,
have posed checks on the power of state authorities and have sometimes called
for jihad against foreign invaders and Afghan rulers.
The Durand Line
But there was a kind
of stability to the instability. Tribes were too divided to pose an existential
threat to the country or society. The monarchy’s plotting and short bursts of
violence were too brief to prevent leadership transitions. Attempts by the
monarchy to oppress Afghans were deterred mainly by the tribes and religious
leaders. And nearly a century after the British invasion and occupation of
1878–81, no major foreign invasions upset the equilibrium.
Following a standoff
between the Russian British Armies, Afghanistan's frontier with British India
was drawn by Sir Mortimer Durand in 1893 and was accepted by representatives of
both governments. Recognizing Afghanistan as a buffer between the two empires
saved the Russians and the British from having to confront each other
militarily. The Durand Line, the border, intentionally divided Pashtun tribes
living in the area to prevent them from becoming a nuisance for the Raj. On
their side of the frontier, the British created autonomous tribal agencies
controlled by British political officers with the help of tribal chieftains
whose loyalty was ensured through regular subsidies.
Forces of
modernization began to tip that balance in the late twentieth century. But
the event that sparked 40 years of the civil war was the Saur Revolution in
1978. Communists overthrew the regime of Daoud Khan, the former king's
cousin, and successor. Yet the communists enjoyed only a small base of popular
support, and their education, land, and marriage reforms prompted a backlash
among tribes, religious leaders, and the rural population. In 1979, an
insurgency formed and advanced rapidly. In December of that year, the Soviet
Union invaded Afghanistan to prevent the defeat of the incipient
communist regime.
Stable instability
The Soviet invasion
brought modern industrial war to Afghanistan, leading to a decade of bloodshed.
Most Afghan casualties and refugees from the past 40 years occurred during this
period. Soviet tanks, aircraft, and artillery smashed into villages, which were
militarized in response. Resistance to the occupation united once disparate
tribes, ethnic communities, and religious leaders. Declaring themselves holy
warriors, the people rose, armed with assault rifles, rocket-propelled
grenades, and sophisticated communications gear supplied by the United States,
Saudi Arabia, and other countries.
The Soviet defeat and
departure in 1989 left the mujahideen without a common enemy, especially after
the communist regime finally fell in 1992. They turned to fight each other. War
entered Kabul itself. Many Afghans remember this as the worst part of the past
40 years. The different sides razed neighborhoods and victimized communities. The
tribal and ethnic community leaders that had been mujahideen became warlords.
Taliban rise and fall
The Taliban emerged
out of the chaos of the early 1990s. In his 2010 book, My Life with the
Taliban, Abdul Salam Zaeef, who served as Taliban ambassador to Pakistan
during the 2001 U.S. invasion, argued that “the Taliban were different” than
what had come before. “A group of religious scholars and students with
different backgrounds, they transcended the normal coalitions and factions,”
Zaeef wrote. “They were fighting out of their deep religious belief in jihad
and their faith in God. Allah was their only reason for being there, unlike
many other mujahedeen who fought for money or land.” Although combat persisted
in the north, the Taliban reduced violence in much of the country, slowly
gaining ground such that by 2001 their rivals were reasonably contained. Their
rule appeared stable, if harsh.
The U.S.-led
intervention in 2001 toppled the Taliban regime and briefly created greater
peace and freedom than Afghans had experienced since at least 1978. In the
years that followed, however, it became clear that the more consequential
effect of the invasion was the rekindling of Afghanistan’s civil war. The
challenges of governing were not going away quickly. Nor were the Taliban.
Taking advantage of mistakes in U.S. policy, misrule by the Kabul government,
and Pakistan's support, the Taliban movement turned into a capable insurgency. Violence and instability persisted until August 2021.
The war between
Western forces and the Taliban changed Afghan society dramatically. The
casualties from bombs, mines, night raids, and drones can most easily be seen.
War also disrupted the economy; many Afghans depended on poppy cultivation for
income. Afghans experienced their first legitimate elections. Parliament had
absolute power for the first time. Yet, in the end, democracy lost out.
Religious extremism
The source of Afghan
political power that has proved most enduring is religion. In
the anarchy following the Soviet withdrawal, the traditional Islam of the
villages retained credibility among the people. As the anthropologist
David Edwards has written, “Islam migrates better than honor or nationality. As
a portable system of belief and practice whose locus is personal faith and
worship, it can be adapted to a variety of contexts and situations but
estranged from the familiar settings in which it arose, is it not also more
resistant to the mundane negotiations and compromises that everyday life
requires?” Through the Taliban, a religious movement ruled Afghanistan for the
first time in the modern era. That was no flash in the pan. The sign survived
20 years of war and rules again, making the Taliban the most significant
religious force in Afghanistan’s modern history.
The civil war and its
foreign interventions have a yet darker side. They bred extremism. As Edwards
charts in his 2017 book, Caravan of Martyrs, the Soviet invasion
and the U.S. and Pakistani support for the mujahideen pushed martyrdom to the
forefront. Foreigners—the Palestinian Abdullah Azzam
and the Saudi Osama bin Laden foremost—brought with
them ideas of terrorism and suicide bombing. Throughout the U.S. intervention,
the Taliban could not divorce themselves from either. Siding against foreign
terrorism risked criticism from internal supporters, and suicide bombing was an
invaluable weapon against U.S. and government forces.
Radical ideology was
the catalyst. While studying at King Abdul Aziz University in Jeddah, Saudi
Arabia, in the late 1970s, Osama bin Laden
joined the Muslim Brotherhood, a radical Islamic group founded in Egypt in
1928. Osama bin Laden.
As the leader of the
Taliban from 2016 onward, Mawlawi Haibatullah
has endorsed the use of terrorism. In 2008, Haibatullah
advised the Taliban founder and leader Mullah Omar that Islam justified a wider
use of suicide bombings. Haibatullah’s 23-year-old
adopted son blew himself up in a car bomb during an attack in Helmand in 2017,
recording a video before setting off on the mission. Until then, no other
Afghan leader had ever martyred a son, adopted or otherwise, signifying how
values were changing. Traditionally, sons were to be cherished, not cast aside
needlessly. An embrace of martyrdom and an indifference to the lives
of civilians had become part of what it meant to belong to the Taliban. One can
only hope that the trend fades with the departure of foreign powers and becomes
an aberration in Afghan history.
Where to go from here?
A year after the U.S.
withdrawal, it remains uncertain whether a new form of stability has taken hold
in Afghanistan. The war may have genuinely been a transformational process for
Afghan society. It is possible that the Taliban’s Islamic government may be
able to keep violence at bay, enjoy a base level of legitimacy among the
people, and deter foreign intervention. It is also possible, however, that the
civil war is not yet over. It paused for parts of the country during the
Taliban rule in the 1990s and during the first years of the U.S. intervention
from 2001 to 2005. With that historical precedent in mind, a new unstable
balance may not be apparent for another five years.
Peering ahead, a
renewed civil war could take many forms. One is the resumption of decades-long
fighting between the Taliban, composed primarily of Pashtuns and resistance
groups based in the country’s north that tend to draw from Afghanistan’s
Hazara, Tajik, and Uzbek minorities. So far, the Taliban has faced little more
than sporadic attacks from these groups and fiery statements from their exiled
leaders—a far cry from an effective insurgency. But that could change with time
if the groups can build their cohesion and resilience and win over popular
support. Resistance groups could also receive support from Iran or Russia,
which might decide to aid them because of historical relationships, cultural
ties, opposition to the Islamic State, and competition with Pakistan.
In a different
scenario, a conglomeration of Afghans in cities around the country could rise.
With sufficiently poor governance, even certain Pashtun tribes could revolt.
Land disputes could also challenge the Taliban. Tribal and villager
dissatisfaction with access to land and water have traditionally caused strife.
The Taliban received support for 25 years from poor farmers to whom they gave
or promised land. For the Taliban to make good on those promises, other
Afghans, including landed tribes with title, must lose land, and they may
resist. How well the Taliban can balance these competing demands matters. So
far, the regime has not been too oppressive, taking a little from the land
without taking it all. Yet land issues can fester and are notoriously difficult
for any government to manage.
The Taliban could
also fuel their undoing. The tactics of terrorism feed violence, and the
Taliban may be unable to control extremist trends. Young men could continue to
look to martyrdom for meaning, grow restive, and look for new targets. Those
targets are as likely to be within Afghanistan as abroad. In late 2021, there
were rumors that Mawlawi Haibatullah
and Sirajuddin Haqqani, deputy leaders of the Taliban government, had declared
an end to suicide bombings. But the presence of the al Qaeda leader Ayman
al-Zawahiri in Kabul, where he was killed in a U.S. drone strike in July, bodes
poorly. A wider acceptance of extremism could create more recruits for the
Islamic State, which maintains a faction in the country and could adapt its
terrorist campaign into an anti-Taliban insurgency.
Perhaps nothing is
more likely to revive the civil war than foreign interventions. Russian and
Iranian efforts to support ethnic and sectarian proxies in Afghanistan and
ill-judged Pakistani moves to tame the Taliban, protect Islamabad’s perceived
interests, or more clearly define an Afghan-Pakistan border could stoke new
violence. U.S. military actions to counter terrorism could also do the same.
Precision strikes on Afghan soil could trigger a backlash among Afghans and
increase support for terrorist groups. Over-the-horizon strikes may be
essential to U.S. national security, but they will likely encourage radicalization
in Afghanistan. Worst of all, in today’s environment of great-power
competition, intervention or influence by one great power could compel others
to intervene, backing their proxies or the Taliban government and producing an
escalatory spiral of violence. That would be a recipe for renewed civil war and
a tragedy for the Afghan people.
The lack of U.S. role
The United States and
its allies may want to be more than passive observers and try to do something
to stabilize the country. There is little harm in providing humanitarian
assistance or stepping aside if other countries want to assist the
Taliban regime. In contrast to supporting the anti-Taliban resistance and
conducting counterterrorism activities inside Afghanistan, such activities
would not raise the risk of restarting the Afghan civil war. But the amount the
United States and its allies can do is limited. The Taliban regime is unlikely
to heed incentives or sanctions to modify its behavior.
Moreover, substantial
U.S. financial assistance to the Taliban regime would likely draw reactions
from China, Iran, and Russia, which would back Afghans to oppose any U.S.
influence. The same is even more true if the United States attempts to support
proxies to supplant the Taliban regime. The best policy for Washington may be
to monitor the situation closely rather than inadvertently cause harm by trying
to help one side or another.
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