Why So Many Politicians Run in Kabul

Take a walk around the Afghan capital and the faces on posters are everywhere: proud, defiant, smiling — or shredded into slivers. With the country's parliamentary elections just two weeks away, campaigning has intensified, and nowhere more than in Kabul, where a whopping 664 candidates — more than a quarter of the total nationwide — will be on a ballot that might resemble a book. At face value, the outsize figure would suggest a democracy that's burgeoning despite the advances made by the Taliban-led insurgency. In reality, that number is huge in part because an increasing number of candidates have chosen to live in the capital, finding refuge in Kabul from the lawlessness of the provinces.

Many incumbents from restive areas have since decamped for good to run to represent constituencies in the capital. Others who still represent their embattled provinces of origin do so in name only, scarcely, if ever, returning home to their constituents out of fear — even as election day nears. (They are permitted to run for provincial office even if they never visit home.) "It's far too dangerous to be out in public now, so I am forced to find other ways to reach my people," says Najia Aimaq, a female member of parliament from Baghlan, a northern province that saw some of the worst violence in last year's presidential election. She now lives in Kabul year-round. According to Fabrizio Foschini of the Afghanistan Analysts Network, this gathering trend is another symptom of the "government losing control around the countryside." (So far three candidates have been killed by suspected militants, with dozens more injured in attacks.)

A year ago, Taliban threats that shut down or scared people away from hundreds of polling centers were exacerbated by widespread electoral fraud. President Hamid Karzai won his second term, but it came at the expense of the appearance of legitimacy. The upcoming poll is unlikely to be an improvement. The President has resisted the electoral reforms demanded by critics at home to address irregularities, moving instead to limit the powers of a commission tasked with investigating charges of vote-rigging. Already, more than 10% of voting stations will not even be open on election day because of a lack of security. Meanwhile, alleged war criminals are again among the nearly 2,500 standing for 249 seats in the lower house of parliament, or Wolesi Jirga. As the government loses credibility, Taliban gains have prompted some Afghan officials to relocate to the big cities.

Fazlullah Mujadidi is one of them. For the past five years he has represented Logar province, the southern gateway to Kabul where he was formerly a mujahedin commander in the jihad against the Russians in the 1980s. But "today's life is better for me in Kabul than in Logar because the Taliban has grown much stronger and made many threats against me," he says. The Taliban, Mujadidi says, has made it all but impossible to campaign. Although he visits his constituency occasionally to see family and friends, he insists he has no misgivings over making the switch, pointing out that as a member of parliament he has to spend most of his time in the capital anyway. And besides, he adds, "there's no difference whether I am here or there. My first goal is to help serve the people of Afghanistan."

The same instability that has sent lawmakers packing has accelerated migration to urban centers. Officially, Kabul province is now home to 3.5 million of the country's 28 million people, but by some estimates the actual total is far higher — perhaps more than 5 million. Analysts note, moreover, that most of the candidates who have abandoned the provinces to contest Kabul seats are from areas closest to the capital — Logar, Wardak, Parwan — making it easier for their faithful supporters back home to travel into the capital to swell the voting rolls on their behalf. Indeed, during voter registration last month, there were reports of large groups going to Kabul from surrounding provinces to sign up.

Other incumbents, like Aimaq, have chosen to contest the same seats on Sept. 18 while maintaining the slightest footprint in their volatile home provinces. After more than four months away from her native Baghlan, she went back last month under the cover of a burqa, accompanied by a lone bodyguard in street clothes to avoid drawing any dangerous attention. Unable to make any public appearances, she says that trusted supporters went to visit her in small numbers at her family residence to "pass my message to the people."

That's still a step up from fellow MP Shakiba Hashimi of Kandahar, who largely depends on alternative channels, including a Kabul-based radio station, to communicate with people in the Taliban stronghold where she has long faced death threats. More than the militants, she claims that that elements loyal to the President's controversial half brother and head of the provincial council, Ahmed Wali Karzai, may do her harm because she has been harshly critical of him, repeating much of the same charges of alleged corruption and links to the drug trade circulating in the Western media. She says that she, too, must travel undercover.

Fear may justify some lawmakers' living arrangements. But according to Haroun Mir, a Kabul native and first-time candidate for parliament, there's another factor that is swelling — and soiling — the pool of candidates in the capital: money. With so much cash floating around in a war economy, many outsiders have been attracted to the honey pot. And with 33 at-large seats up for grabs in Kabul, he says a host of businessmen turned candidates are sparing no expense on TV spots and flashy advertising to buy their way to power. The legal immunity that comes with being a member of parliament is an attractive perk. "Why else," he asks, "would someone spend so much to get a seat in the parliament that is so dysfunctional?"

With limited means at his disposal, Mir is banking on his reputation as a respected political analyst visible in the local media, hoping that will help him rise above the dizzying fray of transplants and businessmen. He hopes that as an elected official his voice might have more of an impact. "I'm pretty sure this is our last chance, and when I seen this kind of [well-funded] competition and especially fraud, it's very hard to have hope," he says. "But I'm holding out."