Rebuilding a Nation

An issue that has slipped off the forefront of the agenda has been Afghanistan. Despite the overthrow of the Taliban, Afghanistan’s political situation remains precarious. Hamid Karzai, who led the country’s interim government for six months, was officially elected head-of-state in June 2002. Yet his power is limited: Karzai’s government is riven by ethic divisions and its control over the north and west is partial. The presence of Western peacekeepers in Kabul has helped restore order, though more are needed outside the capital.

To help rebuild Afghanistan, rich countries pledged $4.5 billion of aid in January 2002 (though only part has been paid out). Karzai is building a national army and the UN is leading efforts to clear millions of landmines. Pursuit of Taliban and al-Qaeda fugitives continues, though America’s heavy-handedness has harmed its relations with Afghanistan, and signs of a Taliban resurgence suggest that America and its allies should rethink their strategy. Work on a new Afghan constitution began in October 2002. A draft, which outlines a centralized republic based on civil law (albeit structured around Islamic principles), was debated at a grand assembly, or loya jirga, in December 2003.

The grand assembly appointed to promulgate Afghanistan’s new constitution—and set its democratic future—began, on December 14th, with tears. Some children sang a lament to their nation: "Everyone in his turn has broken your heart." Yes indeed, and many of them were sitting in the front row.

Two years after the fall of the Taliban, one can hardly look at Afghanistan and not reflect on things to come in Iraq. At least Saddam Hussein has been dragged out of his hole; Osama bin Laden is still at large. Afghanistan has yet to resolve its power struggles, and the resulting insecurity means that large portions of the country are off-limits to aid workers. The country exports little but opiates, and a reconstructed Afghanistan—let alone a prosperous one—still seems a very long way off. If anything, the loya jirga confirmed one truth: Afghanistan will be rebuilt only with the acquiescence of warlords and drug pushers.

Center-stage was clean enough. The president of the transitional government, Hamid Karzai, sat next to the 89-year-old former king, Zahir Shah, now reduced to the symbolic role of "father of the nation". The monarch gave a tidy speech, in effect winding up a kingship which began in 1933 and sputtered on in exile after he was deposed in 1973. Karzai, on the other hand, missed a golden opportunity. Instead of something snappy and passionate, he issued a dreary progress report, the finer points of which were lost on less literate delegates.

There are 500 delegates in all, from across the country. A fifth are women. But it is unclear what influence, if any, the delegates will really have over shaping the final version of the constitution, most of which had been negotiated before they made it to Kabul. The biggest issue is political: should Afghanistan have a parliamentary or, as the draft now has it, a centralized presidential system?

President Karzai made his own views clear. He told delegates he would not run in next year’s elections if they chose a parliamentary system. Afghanistan is too immature to deal with a division of powers, and the might of regional warlords militates against the federalism some would favor, he reckons. Most of his ministers agree. They would like to see two vice-presidents; or maybe three, which would keep the factions happy while helping to tie them to the centre.

An exception is the Defense Minister, Mohammed Fahim, who quite fancied being prime minister. He now seems resigned to sticking to his defense portfolio and giving up a bit more of his private army, on the unspoken understanding that no one looks too carefully into his business affairs. Still, Fahim is not to be underestimated. He showed savvy in turning up to the loya jirga in the get-up of a jihadi commander, an image reminiscent of the struggle against the Soviet occupation that ordinary Afghans appreciate.

The national anthem turned out to be a sticking point for many Pushtun delegates; they resent seeing their language usurped by Dari, the local variant of Persian, and would like more power at the expense of Fahim and other northerners. But they are divided on the question of the monarchy, which some of them would like to revive, and on Taliban moderates, whom some want to see brought back into the fold. Many Pushtun delegates, when interviewed in a quiet corner, revealed reservations about Karzai. But most said they will throw their hat in with him and a strong presidency; he may be Americanized, but Karzai is still a Pushtun.

The danger is that in tailoring a presidency to suit Karzai, Afghanistan is putting all its eggs in one basket. What if something should happen to him? What if he wins next year’s election and goes to ground or turns bad, or else is beaten by a candidate from the thuggish school of Afghan politics? No one, though, has come up with a better alternative.

Another question to be settled by delegates is what sort of legal code Afghanistan should have. Judicial reform, overseen by Italian officials, has been messy. The government has skated over the issue, to its peril. The 1964 constitution called for laws "in keeping with the principles of Islam". The new jihadi-fuelled draft calls for "laws in keeping with Islam". A subtle change, but a worrying one for human-rights advocates. There are large bits of the legal code, they fear, to which sharia—or Islamic law—punishments such as amputation and stoning could be applied. Even more worrisome is the maneuvering of Abdul Rasul Sayyaf, a conservative and piratical warlord, to head the new judiciary. Delegates appeared aghast at the thought, but a few ministers hinted a deal might be in the offing.