Why Afghans Just Can't Get Along

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CHRIS HONDROS/GETTY IMAGES

Afghan elders and warlords attend peace talks

Kabul residents celebrated the demise of the Taliban by shedding mandatory beards and burkas, and switching on long-dormant television sets. But as they contemplate the perilous unfolding of the post-Taliban political scenario, many may soon be reminded why the Taliban were actually welcomed by many residents when they first seized the city in 1996 — they hoped the fundamentalist militia would at least bring peace. Now rival warlords within the Northern Alliance and among former mujahedeen commanders in the Pashtun south are deploying fighters to stake their claim to post-Taliban Afghanistan, and next week's U.N.-sponsored talks in Berlin over the country's political future are part of an increasingly urgent effort to avoid a new civil war.

A violent pastViolence, betrayal, intrigue and infighting have been endemic to Afghanistan's politics for the past quarter century, first among the royals, then among the communists and finally among the anti-Soviet mujahedeen — and right now its the latter who are reclaiming power. King Zahir Shah, who the U.S. hopes will return from exile in Rome and lead a democratic renaissance, was overthrown in 1973 by his cousin, Mohammed Daoud, who was himself overthrown by a communist military coup in 1978. But as infighting among two rival communist factions became more violent and chaotic, the Soviets invaded in 1979 and installed their preferred faction. That united a plethora of mujahedeen groups, who, with the backing of Pakistan, Saudi Arabia and the U.S. — and, separately, Iran — managed to drive out the Soviets and destroy the regime they left behind.

But even as they vanquished the common enemy in 1992, the mujahedeen factions set upon each other, launching a ferocious civil war in which some 50,000 people are believed to havebeen killed. The issue was simply power, and its distribution both across different ethnic groups and among rival warlords within particular ethnic groups. In 1992, the victorious mujahedeen had agreed to appoint Tajik leader Burhanuddin Rabbani as president for one year. But Rabbani held on for four years, during which time the forces of Pashtun warlord Gulbuddin Hekmatyar waged a vicious artillery campaign that turned the capital into rubble and killed thousands. Hekmatyar was sometimes joined on the battlefield by the Uzbek militia of General Rashid Dostum, a former security chief of the Soviet-backed regime. Eventually, with direct military support from Pakistan and financial aid from Saudi Arabia, the Taliban swept to power in 1996, vowing to end the bloodletting.

They drove out both Rabbani and his enemies, winning over most of the local warlords who dominate rural Afghanistan. Rabbani's ousted Tajik forces joined with the Shiite Hazari mujahedeen backed by Iran and with Dostum's Uzbek militia to create the Northern Alliance, which has now reclaimed Kabul thanks to the U.S. campaign against the Taliban. And while they're paying lip service to the notion of a "broad-based government," Rabbani is back in Kabul. Despite its internal divisions — Hazari fighters last week marched into Kabul to stake their own claim for a share of the Alliance's spoils — the anti-Taliban group appears to have little enthusiasm for giving their old Pashtun enemies too much of a role. Indeed, Rabbani on Tuesday described the Berlin talks as largely "symbolic."

How to create a unity government?

Prospects for an inclusive national government are bedeviled both by Afghanistan's awkward ethnic makeup, and its position at a geopolitical crossroads. There is no majority ethnic group in Afghanistan. The Pashtun are the largest minority, making up some 38 percent of the population, but like the Tajik (25 percent), Hazara (19 percent) and Uzbek (6 percent) they are part of a group whose majority lives in another country. Most Pashtuns live in Pakistan, Tajiks in Tajikistan, Uzbeks in Uzbekistan, and while the Hazaras are not ethnically linked with Iran, their Shiite brand of Islam gives them a common identity with the Islamic Republic distinct from their fellow Afghans. Afghanistan has traditionally been ruled by Pashtuns, although their power has often been contested. And the fearsome wars of the past two decades have deepened ethnic enmity.

Afghanistan's neighbors have historically sought to shape her politics to their needs, from the 19th century "Great Game" between the Russian and British empires to the Soviet invasion of 1979 and Pakistan's intervention via the Taliban in the mid 1990s. The Northern Alliance has enjoyed the support of Iran, Turkey, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan and Russia, each for their own reasons, while Pakistan threw its weight behind the Taliban. The regional dynamic may now be critical to international efforts at brokering a compromise. Even as it prioritizes the hunt for Osama bin Laden, on the diplomatic front the U.S. finds itself caught between the Northern Alliance and Pakistan. Much may hinge on what the Russians are telling the Alliance — although they've recognized Rabbani as the head of the legitimate government, the Russians know that a renewed civil war may see Pakistan once again expand its influence, and avoiding that scenario may persuade them to push the Alliance to compromise. But that remains a tough call, and there are few encouraging signs right now that the warlords headed for Berlin next week are ready to cooperate in Afghanistan's national interests.

Taliban rule collapsed so quickly that post-Taliban facts on the ground emerged before a wider political consensus had been achieved. Indeed, the Taliban appears to have even negotiated its withdrawal with relatively friendly non-Taliban Pashtun warlords in a number of cities in the south on the understanding that they shared a mutual enmity for the Northern Alliance. But rival Pashtun warlords quickly emerged to stake their own claim, setting up roadblocks, charging "tolls" and marking out their own fiefdoms by deploying armed men. And while the old mujahedeen carve the south into fiefdoms, Northern Alliance commanders appear to have done the same with the major towns of northern Afghanistan. Nobody is waiting for the king to lend his authority to a power grab, because he simply doesn't have any. Not surprisingly, Zahir Shah has no plans to return to Afghanistan just yet.

The one thing Afghans do agree on

The danger of renewed fighting is growing, not only between the Northern Alliance and mujahedeen forces, but also on each side of that divide. And, of course, the Taliban remains a factor. Its soldiers for the most part retreated and dispersed without a fight, and may yet have an impact on the new power equation (particularly in the south) even though they'll be excluded from a direct political role.

The one thing Afghans have tended to agree on, historically, is that they don't like armed foreigners in their midst. They united to fight the Soviets, and even now a clear distinction is made by anti-Taliban forces between the Afghan Talibans (forgivable) and the foreign volunteers (unforgivable). They're unlikely to balk at small numbers of U.S. special forces pursuing Al Qaeda in the south, but the Northern Alliance has made clear its opposition to an international peacekeeping mission — indeed, pressure from the Alliance appears to have postponed planned British deployments last weekend. Still, many observers believe peace will not last long unless it is kept by an international force. Compared to that mission, destroying the Taliban regime may well prove to have been the easy part.