FICTION
Women’s view
The Hindu
AUNOHITA MOJUMDAR
A Thousand Splendid Suns documents, in vivid detail, the lives of Afghan women, in both the richness and the poverty of their lives.
Hosseini doesn’t make any overt political choices amongst the warring factions, but does portray the mujahideen years and that of the Taliban as the worst for women.
A second book is often an unfortunate addendum to a great first book, a limping shadow that disappoints, lurks and then disappears into obscurity, taking with it the author who is quickly transformed from the creator of a best seller to the writer wh o could not repeat his genius. Not so Khaled Hosseini’s A Thousand Splendid Suns.Splendid repeat
The Afghan-born author’s book has shot to the top of the bestsellers lists soon after its simultaneous release in several languages. Hosseini, it appears, can rest easy, at least with his publishers, having repeated the success that came to him with his debut novel The Kite Runner, which explored the story of friendship between two Afghan boys.
Comparisons between the two books are inevitable, more so because Hosseini’s new novel returns to some of the territory familiarised in the first book. Yet the stomping ground is quite different. The first person narrative is replaced by the slower cadence of lives observed. In A Thousand Splendid Suns the main characters are all women — four portraits spanning four generations and six different periods of conflict in Afghanistan. The monarchy, the new republic, the Sov iet incursion and its puppet government, the short-lived mujahideen government followed by the chaos of the mujahideen wars, the brutal order of the Taliban, followed by the American-led “bombing to liberation” and the current government.
Most of the story takes place in Kabul and in the Western city of Herat with a brief incursion into neighbouring Pakistan which has hosted million of Afghan refugees during the long years of conflict.
The core of the story revolves around two of the four women who are divided by almost a generation and by social segregation. The story of each woman is narrated in alternating chapters and the two halves slowly come together. The book documents their relationship or their many relationships with each other which they develop, discard and transcend until a climactic moment.Story worth telling
But the tale is more than a tale of two women. If The Kite Runner explored and brought alive some of the complexities of interrelationships in a ethnically diverse and unequal society shattered by war, A Thousand Splen did Suns documents, in vivid detail, the lives of many Afghan women, in both the richness and the poverty of their lives and that is a story worth telling and retelling.
Nearly six years after the so-called liberation of Afghanistan, Afghan women could well question whether this liberation was for just half of the country’s population. The denial of basic human rights to women, which demonised the Taliban and helped build the international support for the invasion, continues to be practised to varying degrees in Afghanistan. Though Afghan women now have equal rights on paper, strong and repressive social mores dictate otherwise. For the slightest degree of freedom to participate in public spaces and civil society, women are dependent on the goodwill of their families, husbands, in-laws, community, ethnic tribe and the generosity of the judiciary. Women, sometimes girls as young as seven, are still bartered to settle debts and seal bargains and the criminal system treats women running away from domestic abuse and sexual violence as perpetrators of a crime, and not as its victims, for having violated the family honour. Hosseini doesn’t make any overt political choices amongst the warring factions, but does portray the mujahideen years and that of the Taliban as the worst for women. The current situation is portrayed as a beneficial one for Afghanistan and for its women.Complex tapestry
Hosseini is a good storyteller and he weaves a tapestry in which politics, ethnicity and economics forms the backdrop, tinting it with the sounds, smells and colours of Afghanistan. Different lives and events are drawn together like strands of a warp and weft. He counts the victims, the dead and the maimed but also the survivors. One of the most powerful parts of the book is the documentation of the struggle to survive, to find enough food: the slow progress from wholesome meals to scratchy diets, the slow loss of weight, the malnourishment leading to quick aging, the creeping illnesses which mirror the political emaciation of Afghanistan.
The pace, the voice and the march of the book is distinct and different from The Kite Runner, lacking a certain urgent immediacy of the earlier book. It is at the end of the book, however, that the author of The Kite Runner shows up clearly: the build up, the climactic moment and the dissipation of tension into a neat and regular ending. The tidying up of loose ends, bringing order to the mess and mash and unfinished beginnings of real life, the trimming of a wild garden into a well- manicured lawn. It is also perhaps what makes A Thousand Splendid Suns a bestseller and a good book, and keeps it from becoming a great one.
August 06, 2007
The story behind the stories
Special Report
The story behind the stories
Newsline
Even post-Taliban, journalism in Afghanistan is not for the faint-hearted, says Aunohita Mojumdar, a reporter based in Kabul.
The Taliban may have retreated, taking with them the extreme controls on all forms of independent media in Afghanistan. However, even in present-day Afghanistan, being a journalist is not for the faint-hearted. With no tradition of independent journalism in the country, increasing insecurity, lack of information, absence of physical infrastructure and a deepening financial crisis, Afghanistan's media are in an unenviable spot.
Though the Taliban are generally blamed for the controls that virtually eliminated all but the state media, even prior to the emergence of the Taliban, media were not entirely independent. "We did not even understand the concept of an independent media," says an Afghan journalist candidly. "We did not have much exposure to the international media and thought that being aligned to one group or the other was quite normal." The result was that the media derived its strength, financial resources and protection from groups, communities or individuals it was aligned to, rather than from recognition of its independence.
While media organisations have attempted to chart an independent path in the last five years, the recognition of this is slow to come, especially in remote areas where the role of a journalist is scarcely understood. In many rural areas, even today, survival is a matter of negotiations; who you know and how you behave determine your chances of survival in areas where the state has either not reached or exercises scant control. Being a journalist, however, entails challenging the very sources of power which could provide protection. For most journalists in rural areas, survival depends on balancing out conflicting interests, deciding what issues to report on, who to report about and when to report it.
Those challenged by such reporting often resort to their own form of summary justice, which may involve seizure of materials, and going as far as threats, detentions, tortures and finally murders. While the overt violence grabs the headlines, what goes largely unreported is the daily self-censorship exercised by all Afghan journalists. Whether it is deciding how much of the content may be considered against the tradition of the country and lead to reprisals or deciding whether the source of power in a remote area is too powerful to be criticised, each media organisation draws its own limits.
Tolo TV, owned by an Australian Afghan family, for instance, has been pushing the boundaries of acceptable programming by using a large amount of foreign content and snappy, urban-oriented entertainment programmes. However, many in the Afghan media feel "the TV channel goes too far in the current context of Afghanistan," even while defending their own boundaries.
In the more remote rural areas, it may not even be the content that is offensive. There are instances where journalists asking routine questions have been detained by locals on suspicions of being spys on the assumption that that is the only reason why strangers would come asking questions.
Reporting on the battle against the Taliban is fraught with danger. It is difficult to get to the areas where there is often heavy bombardment and 'collateral damage.' The Taliban have also 'arrested' several journalists who had gone into the areas where they hold sway, the most recent example of detention being the case of the Afghan journalist Ajmal Naqshbandi, who was finally killed by the Taliban.
Naqshbandi's case starkly illustrates the double standards that exist for journalists in this country. Five-and-a half years after the liberation of their country, Afghan journalists still continue to be second-class citizens, inferior to their international, especially western colleagues. Whether it is sections of the international community or the Afghan government, international journalists find it much easier to access information and get interviews and appointments than their Afghan counterparts, especially those working for Afghan media organisations rather than international media outlets. Though this is partially fed by the language barrier (most Afghans do not speak English), there is sufficient anecdotal evidence suggesting that westerners and non-westerners usually receive different treatment. Fear of being completely blacklisted keeps Afghan journalists from lodging formal complaints, but not from sharing their grievances privately. Instances range from one in which an embassy kept Afghan reporters lined up in the sun for several hours while international journalists had lunch inside prior to a briefing, to requests for appointments being turned down without any substantive reasons.
Afghan journalists also work in conditions that are usually much more fraught with danger. Even while they run greater risks from societal displeasure, incurring the wrath of local commanders or criminals, they are usually poorly paid and unprotected in comparison to their Afghan counterparts.
Though the situation of Afghan journalists has improved over the last two years, even the occasional incident of discrimination is enough to reinforce the feeling of humiliation. However, international journalists also receive their share of humiliation, doled out regularly on grounds of security. Simple but routine examples are at the presidential palace where male journalists are lined up facing a wall, or when journalists outside the ISAF base have to stand, week after week, for usually an hour in the snow, rain or sun because five years have not been long enough for ISAF to build a tin roof that could shelter them.
While insecurity is a primary issue, it is not the only one. The lack of physical infrastructure makes operating a news agency a difficult task. Scarce power, especially in winter when power comes on for a few hours every few days, bad roads and insufficient technology plague news operations. An artificial economy sustained by the international community has made most buildings almost out of bounds for the ordinary Afghan with rents in thousands rather than hundreds of dollars.
Danish Karokhel, the director and editor-in-chief of Pajhwok Afghan News, worries about how to sustain his organisation. Pajhwok, like many other media organisations, was set up with a large influx of aid money. The funding has dropped sharply, and while Pajhwok currently raises 50% of its expenditure, it is not sure whether it can meet the shortfall when its funding is cut by another 50% from August 1. "A large number of journalists have become unemployed and have turned to other professions," says Karokhel. Several media organisations have also folded up. In a farewell editorial, the editor and founder of Kabul Weekly, Fahim Dashty, spoke passionately of his struggle to keep alive the weekly before deciding he could not sustain it any longer. Unspoken among journalists is the threat that organisations unwilling to fold may start taking money from different and dubious sources. With the power of the media slowly unfolding, control of news organisations is to be coveted by those wielding power.
In fact, it is the success and reach of the independent media that has perhaps led to increasing calls for its control. In the struggle over territory and power, all sides expect the media to join the battle on their side. The government itself has resorted to a number of measures to control information. The last three years have seen increasing restraints on government servants, including doctors, policemen and teachers, who are asked to obtain clearance prior to any interaction with the press. In the absence of any databases, information-gathering depends, of course, on the willingness of people to speak to the press. More specifically, access to information can also be used to reward those who provide favourable coverage.
More direct attempts to intervene in press coverage include a mysterious memo that emanated from the president's office before being disowned, which spelt out specific parameters for reportage. More recently, there have been attempts to impose restraints on the media through a media bill currently being debated in parliament.
Adding to the problems faced by the journalists is the difficulty of uniting different groups. While media organisations have been able to establish independence in reporting, it has been more difficult for journalists to unite on issues threatening media freedom. Years of ethnic, community and political divides still cast their shadows, as do gender stereotypes.
As managing editor of Pajhwok, Afghanistan's single largest independent news agency, Farida Nekzad manages far more than news. Dealing with threats to her correspondents in the provinces and urging on her reporters in an environment where there are increasing controls on information, is no mean task. On a daily basis Nekzad has to counter conservative attitudes from society, which challenge her role as a newswoman. In an environment where women are expected to largely efface themselves or fulfill roles within their home environments, there is little space or respect for those like her. However, against all odds, Nekzad and a number of gutsy young women have come forward to take on the most challenging roles. As managers, newscasters, reporters and even photographers, they work shoulder to shoulder with men, demanding respect and stretching boundaries. They give hope that the Afghan media will find within itself the strength to counter the challenges of what promises to be a critical year.
(The author is a Kabul-based Indian journalist).
The story behind the stories
Newsline
Even post-Taliban, journalism in Afghanistan is not for the faint-hearted, says Aunohita Mojumdar, a reporter based in Kabul.
The Taliban may have retreated, taking with them the extreme controls on all forms of independent media in Afghanistan. However, even in present-day Afghanistan, being a journalist is not for the faint-hearted. With no tradition of independent journalism in the country, increasing insecurity, lack of information, absence of physical infrastructure and a deepening financial crisis, Afghanistan's media are in an unenviable spot.
Though the Taliban are generally blamed for the controls that virtually eliminated all but the state media, even prior to the emergence of the Taliban, media were not entirely independent. "We did not even understand the concept of an independent media," says an Afghan journalist candidly. "We did not have much exposure to the international media and thought that being aligned to one group or the other was quite normal." The result was that the media derived its strength, financial resources and protection from groups, communities or individuals it was aligned to, rather than from recognition of its independence.
While media organisations have attempted to chart an independent path in the last five years, the recognition of this is slow to come, especially in remote areas where the role of a journalist is scarcely understood. In many rural areas, even today, survival is a matter of negotiations; who you know and how you behave determine your chances of survival in areas where the state has either not reached or exercises scant control. Being a journalist, however, entails challenging the very sources of power which could provide protection. For most journalists in rural areas, survival depends on balancing out conflicting interests, deciding what issues to report on, who to report about and when to report it.
Those challenged by such reporting often resort to their own form of summary justice, which may involve seizure of materials, and going as far as threats, detentions, tortures and finally murders. While the overt violence grabs the headlines, what goes largely unreported is the daily self-censorship exercised by all Afghan journalists. Whether it is deciding how much of the content may be considered against the tradition of the country and lead to reprisals or deciding whether the source of power in a remote area is too powerful to be criticised, each media organisation draws its own limits.
Tolo TV, owned by an Australian Afghan family, for instance, has been pushing the boundaries of acceptable programming by using a large amount of foreign content and snappy, urban-oriented entertainment programmes. However, many in the Afghan media feel "the TV channel goes too far in the current context of Afghanistan," even while defending their own boundaries.
In the more remote rural areas, it may not even be the content that is offensive. There are instances where journalists asking routine questions have been detained by locals on suspicions of being spys on the assumption that that is the only reason why strangers would come asking questions.
Reporting on the battle against the Taliban is fraught with danger. It is difficult to get to the areas where there is often heavy bombardment and 'collateral damage.' The Taliban have also 'arrested' several journalists who had gone into the areas where they hold sway, the most recent example of detention being the case of the Afghan journalist Ajmal Naqshbandi, who was finally killed by the Taliban.
Naqshbandi's case starkly illustrates the double standards that exist for journalists in this country. Five-and-a half years after the liberation of their country, Afghan journalists still continue to be second-class citizens, inferior to their international, especially western colleagues. Whether it is sections of the international community or the Afghan government, international journalists find it much easier to access information and get interviews and appointments than their Afghan counterparts, especially those working for Afghan media organisations rather than international media outlets. Though this is partially fed by the language barrier (most Afghans do not speak English), there is sufficient anecdotal evidence suggesting that westerners and non-westerners usually receive different treatment. Fear of being completely blacklisted keeps Afghan journalists from lodging formal complaints, but not from sharing their grievances privately. Instances range from one in which an embassy kept Afghan reporters lined up in the sun for several hours while international journalists had lunch inside prior to a briefing, to requests for appointments being turned down without any substantive reasons.
Afghan journalists also work in conditions that are usually much more fraught with danger. Even while they run greater risks from societal displeasure, incurring the wrath of local commanders or criminals, they are usually poorly paid and unprotected in comparison to their Afghan counterparts.
Though the situation of Afghan journalists has improved over the last two years, even the occasional incident of discrimination is enough to reinforce the feeling of humiliation. However, international journalists also receive their share of humiliation, doled out regularly on grounds of security. Simple but routine examples are at the presidential palace where male journalists are lined up facing a wall, or when journalists outside the ISAF base have to stand, week after week, for usually an hour in the snow, rain or sun because five years have not been long enough for ISAF to build a tin roof that could shelter them.
While insecurity is a primary issue, it is not the only one. The lack of physical infrastructure makes operating a news agency a difficult task. Scarce power, especially in winter when power comes on for a few hours every few days, bad roads and insufficient technology plague news operations. An artificial economy sustained by the international community has made most buildings almost out of bounds for the ordinary Afghan with rents in thousands rather than hundreds of dollars.
Danish Karokhel, the director and editor-in-chief of Pajhwok Afghan News, worries about how to sustain his organisation. Pajhwok, like many other media organisations, was set up with a large influx of aid money. The funding has dropped sharply, and while Pajhwok currently raises 50% of its expenditure, it is not sure whether it can meet the shortfall when its funding is cut by another 50% from August 1. "A large number of journalists have become unemployed and have turned to other professions," says Karokhel. Several media organisations have also folded up. In a farewell editorial, the editor and founder of Kabul Weekly, Fahim Dashty, spoke passionately of his struggle to keep alive the weekly before deciding he could not sustain it any longer. Unspoken among journalists is the threat that organisations unwilling to fold may start taking money from different and dubious sources. With the power of the media slowly unfolding, control of news organisations is to be coveted by those wielding power.
In fact, it is the success and reach of the independent media that has perhaps led to increasing calls for its control. In the struggle over territory and power, all sides expect the media to join the battle on their side. The government itself has resorted to a number of measures to control information. The last three years have seen increasing restraints on government servants, including doctors, policemen and teachers, who are asked to obtain clearance prior to any interaction with the press. In the absence of any databases, information-gathering depends, of course, on the willingness of people to speak to the press. More specifically, access to information can also be used to reward those who provide favourable coverage.
More direct attempts to intervene in press coverage include a mysterious memo that emanated from the president's office before being disowned, which spelt out specific parameters for reportage. More recently, there have been attempts to impose restraints on the media through a media bill currently being debated in parliament.
Adding to the problems faced by the journalists is the difficulty of uniting different groups. While media organisations have been able to establish independence in reporting, it has been more difficult for journalists to unite on issues threatening media freedom. Years of ethnic, community and political divides still cast their shadows, as do gender stereotypes.
As managing editor of Pajhwok, Afghanistan's single largest independent news agency, Farida Nekzad manages far more than news. Dealing with threats to her correspondents in the provinces and urging on her reporters in an environment where there are increasing controls on information, is no mean task. On a daily basis Nekzad has to counter conservative attitudes from society, which challenge her role as a newswoman. In an environment where women are expected to largely efface themselves or fulfill roles within their home environments, there is little space or respect for those like her. However, against all odds, Nekzad and a number of gutsy young women have come forward to take on the most challenging roles. As managers, newscasters, reporters and even photographers, they work shoulder to shoulder with men, demanding respect and stretching boundaries. They give hope that the Afghan media will find within itself the strength to counter the challenges of what promises to be a critical year.
(The author is a Kabul-based Indian journalist).
The Deviant Diplomat
Little India
A diplomatic posting in Afghanistan is not everyone's cup of tea. Sandeep Kumar has made it his pot.
By:
Aunohita Mojumdar
It was the mid 1980s when the trend of abandoning small towns for the big bad world of city lights hadn't quite caught fire. Certainly the offspring of affluent business families in his town rarely left the roost. But even then Sandeep Kumar's feet were itching.
"It's always been this love of traveling, languages, interacting with new cultures, meeting people." So after a very English upbringing at the prestigious Doon School, Kumar left his town of Najibabad in Western Uttar Pradesh to join the Indian Foreign Service and see the world. 22 years later Kumar is still stepping out of the box. A diplomatic posting in Afghanistan is not everyone's cup of tea. The country has rudimentary services; cities, villages and families have been destroyed by 30 years of war. There are pitched battles for territorial control in South Afghanistan and elsewhere, including the capital city of Kabul, where bombs, suicide and rocket attacks are commonplace. In this city most foreigners live almost an embattled existence. Behind tall walls and barbed wire, they travel from one "secure location" to another. Surrounded by a large security apparatus that prevents them from taking public transport, walking, shopping and eating in local restaurants, most complete their postings in Afghanistan with limited contact with Afghans and Afghanistan. Life is lived in an artificial expat bubble that separates foreigners from Afghans, with the real and normal life experienced during frequent rest and recuperation breaks outside the country. In this peculiar milieu, Kumar stands out by his ability to lead a normal life.A walk around his flat is a tell tale giveaway of his wide ranging interests. The walls are covered by his oil paintings, the difference in colors and styles hreflecting the progression of his travels, from the rich reds and yellows of Cape Town to the muted blues and browns of Afghanistan's landscape. Musical instruments are strewn around. In a corner is his gym equipment, the essential tools of a junkie, a man who by his own confession, is addicted to the gym. He is working on a book, Musings from Afghanistan, in which he jots down his impressions of Afghanistan, the dust, the smells and tastes of the country, the human interactions, the concerns about the rebuilding of the nation.Before Cape he was in Hong Kong, Paris, Cambridge and Vietnam. In each place Kumar managed to claim a little bit of the country through his eclectic interests. In Vietnam he joined the Vietnamese symphony orchestra, singing Vietnamese songs, traveling and giving performances. "When we returned home there would be flowers at our doorsteps from appreciative listeners." In Afghanistan Kumar misses his Sitar, something he had to leave behind because of the difficulties of transporting it. When he arrived here Kumar was fearful of missing out on his gym regimen as well. But he soon found his niche. Not in the "international only" gyms frequented by the denizens of UN and other international organizations, but in an Afghan-only gym.He writes in his diary:"Hundred metres from my place: mostly young guys in trendy tracksuits, no women. I am the only foreigner, but I am not complaining as I get right of first use on the machines (traditional Afghan hospitality). However I have to constantly watch out for the bulky weights, some of which are beautifully carved out of old vehicle tyres, steel cans and discarded weapons that get swung around wildly in all directions... At times there is no electricity/fuel, in the generator, all movements are conducted in gaslight and although it is admittedly rather risky, I prefer to attribute romantic overtones to the situation: where else in the world does one get to gym by candlelight?"
Now Kumar's relationship with the gym regulars is one of friends. "They call up saying we want to come and cook pizza at your place." The crowning glory was the Mr Afghanistan body building competition last year when Kumar cast aside the usual diplomatic reticence to take part, preparing for a month on a strict diet. Finally, in the competition solely attended by Afghans, Kumar took his place in the spotlight to preen and flex his muscles cheered on by a wildly enthusiastic crowd.At the Indian embassy in Afghanistan, Kumar is a minister, the senior most diplomat after the ambassador. He administers India's large aid program to Afghanistan, a complex and politically sensitive task, meeting with ministers, officials and visiting around the country. But Kumar makes sure he makes time for painting. In Cape Town he picked up his brush after a gap of 10 year inspired by the amazing landscape. In Afghanistan the inspiration is Afghan women. Canvas after canvas is filled with paintings of women in blue burkhas. For Kumar the most amazing thing about the women is their strength. His favorite painting based on a picture that of a woman in a burkha her hand outstretched holding a gun, a policewoman from Kandahar practicing her shooting skills, a woman he was to meet later on.He muses in his diary: "There are five paintings, hreflecting the situation of women at a cross roads of life, against stark backdrops... I can feel their collective piercing gaze slicing through me.. the muse yields, the hear quivers, the sparks solder. The painter becomes the painting."Along with other Afghan men he has learnt to look out for the telltale signs under the burkha, the paint on the toe nails, the footwear that reveals more about the personality of the wearer. "I try to get my stare to ducs on the feet of the lady in blue to see what color toe nails she apprents to her torso, but am disappointed by her all-black non-revealing footwear...."Kumar's desire to partake of Afghan life fully takes him to Afghan homes, streets, places in the city normally avoided by expats and even Afghan orphanages. A friend Hameed is an Afghan government interpreter who gave up his own academic ambitions to put his brother through college and support his family. Hameed is thrilled when Kumar decided to perform namaz. Wahid has a medical degree, but cannot practice medicine, because of the inadequate salaries of doctor in Afghanistan. Kumar becomes involved in negotiations for Wahid's marriage, even as he decries Wahid's double standards towards women in his diary. "In his own way he has been illegally 'dating' several young girls as well, but wouldn't marry them. 'If a girl can date another man before marriage, then she is not wife material' he says simply. 'And what about the man who leads them on?' I am unable to ward off the aggression and sarcasm that has crept into my voice. But he just passes that off with a disarming shrug."Kumar learns that the relatively poorer border province of Paktika apparently has the highest bride price, ranging from $10-12,000. Why he wonders later, are women not treated better if they are so expensive?Kumar's book reveals a great deal about him. Written with a painful honesty, the book records every thought, his emotions, struggles, joys and lows with an almost embarrassing frankness. He struggles with his own frustrations when the problems of living in Kabul and the country get too much for him. In doing so, it also provides a glimpse of Afghanistan. Not the Afghanistan of academic tomes and sensational stories, but the ordinariness of living life in an extraordinary land.
Little India
A diplomatic posting in Afghanistan is not everyone's cup of tea. Sandeep Kumar has made it his pot.
By:
Aunohita Mojumdar
It was the mid 1980s when the trend of abandoning small towns for the big bad world of city lights hadn't quite caught fire. Certainly the offspring of affluent business families in his town rarely left the roost. But even then Sandeep Kumar's feet were itching.
"It's always been this love of traveling, languages, interacting with new cultures, meeting people." So after a very English upbringing at the prestigious Doon School, Kumar left his town of Najibabad in Western Uttar Pradesh to join the Indian Foreign Service and see the world. 22 years later Kumar is still stepping out of the box. A diplomatic posting in Afghanistan is not everyone's cup of tea. The country has rudimentary services; cities, villages and families have been destroyed by 30 years of war. There are pitched battles for territorial control in South Afghanistan and elsewhere, including the capital city of Kabul, where bombs, suicide and rocket attacks are commonplace. In this city most foreigners live almost an embattled existence. Behind tall walls and barbed wire, they travel from one "secure location" to another. Surrounded by a large security apparatus that prevents them from taking public transport, walking, shopping and eating in local restaurants, most complete their postings in Afghanistan with limited contact with Afghans and Afghanistan. Life is lived in an artificial expat bubble that separates foreigners from Afghans, with the real and normal life experienced during frequent rest and recuperation breaks outside the country. In this peculiar milieu, Kumar stands out by his ability to lead a normal life.A walk around his flat is a tell tale giveaway of his wide ranging interests. The walls are covered by his oil paintings, the difference in colors and styles hreflecting the progression of his travels, from the rich reds and yellows of Cape Town to the muted blues and browns of Afghanistan's landscape. Musical instruments are strewn around. In a corner is his gym equipment, the essential tools of a junkie, a man who by his own confession, is addicted to the gym. He is working on a book, Musings from Afghanistan, in which he jots down his impressions of Afghanistan, the dust, the smells and tastes of the country, the human interactions, the concerns about the rebuilding of the nation.Before Cape he was in Hong Kong, Paris, Cambridge and Vietnam. In each place Kumar managed to claim a little bit of the country through his eclectic interests. In Vietnam he joined the Vietnamese symphony orchestra, singing Vietnamese songs, traveling and giving performances. "When we returned home there would be flowers at our doorsteps from appreciative listeners." In Afghanistan Kumar misses his Sitar, something he had to leave behind because of the difficulties of transporting it. When he arrived here Kumar was fearful of missing out on his gym regimen as well. But he soon found his niche. Not in the "international only" gyms frequented by the denizens of UN and other international organizations, but in an Afghan-only gym.He writes in his diary:"Hundred metres from my place: mostly young guys in trendy tracksuits, no women. I am the only foreigner, but I am not complaining as I get right of first use on the machines (traditional Afghan hospitality). However I have to constantly watch out for the bulky weights, some of which are beautifully carved out of old vehicle tyres, steel cans and discarded weapons that get swung around wildly in all directions... At times there is no electricity/fuel, in the generator, all movements are conducted in gaslight and although it is admittedly rather risky, I prefer to attribute romantic overtones to the situation: where else in the world does one get to gym by candlelight?"
Now Kumar's relationship with the gym regulars is one of friends. "They call up saying we want to come and cook pizza at your place." The crowning glory was the Mr Afghanistan body building competition last year when Kumar cast aside the usual diplomatic reticence to take part, preparing for a month on a strict diet. Finally, in the competition solely attended by Afghans, Kumar took his place in the spotlight to preen and flex his muscles cheered on by a wildly enthusiastic crowd.At the Indian embassy in Afghanistan, Kumar is a minister, the senior most diplomat after the ambassador. He administers India's large aid program to Afghanistan, a complex and politically sensitive task, meeting with ministers, officials and visiting around the country. But Kumar makes sure he makes time for painting. In Cape Town he picked up his brush after a gap of 10 year inspired by the amazing landscape. In Afghanistan the inspiration is Afghan women. Canvas after canvas is filled with paintings of women in blue burkhas. For Kumar the most amazing thing about the women is their strength. His favorite painting based on a picture that of a woman in a burkha her hand outstretched holding a gun, a policewoman from Kandahar practicing her shooting skills, a woman he was to meet later on.He muses in his diary: "There are five paintings, hreflecting the situation of women at a cross roads of life, against stark backdrops... I can feel their collective piercing gaze slicing through me.. the muse yields, the hear quivers, the sparks solder. The painter becomes the painting."Along with other Afghan men he has learnt to look out for the telltale signs under the burkha, the paint on the toe nails, the footwear that reveals more about the personality of the wearer. "I try to get my stare to ducs on the feet of the lady in blue to see what color toe nails she apprents to her torso, but am disappointed by her all-black non-revealing footwear...."Kumar's desire to partake of Afghan life fully takes him to Afghan homes, streets, places in the city normally avoided by expats and even Afghan orphanages. A friend Hameed is an Afghan government interpreter who gave up his own academic ambitions to put his brother through college and support his family. Hameed is thrilled when Kumar decided to perform namaz. Wahid has a medical degree, but cannot practice medicine, because of the inadequate salaries of doctor in Afghanistan. Kumar becomes involved in negotiations for Wahid's marriage, even as he decries Wahid's double standards towards women in his diary. "In his own way he has been illegally 'dating' several young girls as well, but wouldn't marry them. 'If a girl can date another man before marriage, then she is not wife material' he says simply. 'And what about the man who leads them on?' I am unable to ward off the aggression and sarcasm that has crept into my voice. But he just passes that off with a disarming shrug."Kumar learns that the relatively poorer border province of Paktika apparently has the highest bride price, ranging from $10-12,000. Why he wonders later, are women not treated better if they are so expensive?Kumar's book reveals a great deal about him. Written with a painful honesty, the book records every thought, his emotions, struggles, joys and lows with an almost embarrassing frankness. He struggles with his own frustrations when the problems of living in Kabul and the country get too much for him. In doing so, it also provides a glimpse of Afghanistan. Not the Afghanistan of academic tomes and sensational stories, but the ordinariness of living life in an extraordinary land.
Afghan king presided over lengthy golden age
Afghan king presided over lengthy golden age
By Aunohita Mojumdar
Financial Times
Published: July 24 2007 03:00 Last updated: July 24 2007 03:00
Zahir Shah, the former monarch who has died in Kabul at the age of 92, watched his country descend into a period of extraordinary tumult. His peaceful, un-interrupted reign of 40 years was followed by an exile of nearly three decades after he was deposed in a bloodless coup by his cousin.
In exile, he saw his country passing from his cousin's hands into those of a communist regime supported by the Soviet Union. For a while, Afghanistan was a cold-war battleground, but when Soviet troops eventually left after being defeated by Mujahideen fighters there followed a period of bloody, internecine conflict.
The Taliban movement of fundamentalist Islamists took over, until they were ousted following 9/11, and many Afghans clamoured for Zahir Shah to return. He did so in 2002, but not as king - merely with the title of Father of the Nation.
Born in 1914, he was educated in Kabul and Montpellier in southern France. Returning to Afghanistan, he was trained as an army officer and became a government minister. His reign began bloodily. In 1933, the 19-year-old Zahir Shah was thrust abruptly into the role of king when his father Nadir Shah was murdered in front of him.
Though nominally the monarch, power was exercised largely by his uncles, and it was only in the 1950s that Zahir Shah assumed full control. Although never a dynamic ruler, his neutral foreign policy and limited liberalisation fostered a lengthy period of peace - sometimes seen today as a golden age. His reign, one of the longest in Afghanistan's history, saw the founding of democratic institutions, including parliament, elections and a new constitution.
He was married in 1931 to Lady Homira. The couple had two daughters and five sons. The royal family org-anised hunting trips and lavish parties, and espoused liberal values. Women enjoyed considerable freedom to participate in public life.
But economic development remained largely confined to Kabul. This led to discontent and paved the way for a coup in 1973 by Zahir's cousin and former prime minister Mohammad Daud Khan.
Zahir Shah, who was deposed during a trip to Italy, remained there in exile until 2002. Following the fall of the Taliban regime, many thought that Zahir Shah, a Persian-speaking Pashtun, would be a unifying factor as king, who would be acceptable to the country's disparate ethnic groups. Instead, he stepped aside and became a revered but largely ineffectual and ailing figure. His family, however, retain an influential position in Afghan politics - notably through his grandson, the outspoken Mustafa Zahir.
For Afghanistan, the death of Zahir Shah brings formal closure to an era of dynastic rule. Yet the democratic reforms and institutions he introduced during his 40- year reign are those Afghanistan is trying to implement once again - an enduring tribute to his legacy.
Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2007
By Aunohita Mojumdar
Financial Times
Published: July 24 2007 03:00 Last updated: July 24 2007 03:00
Zahir Shah, the former monarch who has died in Kabul at the age of 92, watched his country descend into a period of extraordinary tumult. His peaceful, un-interrupted reign of 40 years was followed by an exile of nearly three decades after he was deposed in a bloodless coup by his cousin.
In exile, he saw his country passing from his cousin's hands into those of a communist regime supported by the Soviet Union. For a while, Afghanistan was a cold-war battleground, but when Soviet troops eventually left after being defeated by Mujahideen fighters there followed a period of bloody, internecine conflict.
The Taliban movement of fundamentalist Islamists took over, until they were ousted following 9/11, and many Afghans clamoured for Zahir Shah to return. He did so in 2002, but not as king - merely with the title of Father of the Nation.
Born in 1914, he was educated in Kabul and Montpellier in southern France. Returning to Afghanistan, he was trained as an army officer and became a government minister. His reign began bloodily. In 1933, the 19-year-old Zahir Shah was thrust abruptly into the role of king when his father Nadir Shah was murdered in front of him.
Though nominally the monarch, power was exercised largely by his uncles, and it was only in the 1950s that Zahir Shah assumed full control. Although never a dynamic ruler, his neutral foreign policy and limited liberalisation fostered a lengthy period of peace - sometimes seen today as a golden age. His reign, one of the longest in Afghanistan's history, saw the founding of democratic institutions, including parliament, elections and a new constitution.
He was married in 1931 to Lady Homira. The couple had two daughters and five sons. The royal family org-anised hunting trips and lavish parties, and espoused liberal values. Women enjoyed considerable freedom to participate in public life.
But economic development remained largely confined to Kabul. This led to discontent and paved the way for a coup in 1973 by Zahir's cousin and former prime minister Mohammad Daud Khan.
Zahir Shah, who was deposed during a trip to Italy, remained there in exile until 2002. Following the fall of the Taliban regime, many thought that Zahir Shah, a Persian-speaking Pashtun, would be a unifying factor as king, who would be acceptable to the country's disparate ethnic groups. Instead, he stepped aside and became a revered but largely ineffectual and ailing figure. His family, however, retain an influential position in Afghan politics - notably through his grandson, the outspoken Mustafa Zahir.
For Afghanistan, the death of Zahir Shah brings formal closure to an era of dynastic rule. Yet the democratic reforms and institutions he introduced during his 40- year reign are those Afghanistan is trying to implement once again - an enduring tribute to his legacy.
Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2007
A Make-up Mission
A Make-up Mission
Book Review
Aunohita M0jumdar
"She must be married. She does her eyebrows," said my Afghan friend Safia. Despite having grown up in the US, Safia is aware of the entire regimen of codes that govern the social behavior of Afghan women. For example, eyebrows indicate the marital status. Plucked eyebrows indicate marriage. If, by chance, an unmarried woman has plucked eyebrows, it is a suggestion that either she or her family is not very strict about 'morality'.So, when Deborah Rodriguez stepped into this intricate world governed by thousands of minutiae, it was a little like a bull in a China shop. Loud, brazen and colorful, Rodriguez (Debbie, to everyone in Kabul), a hairdresser from Michigan, USA, came to post-Taliban Afghanistan as part of a group offering humanitarian aid to the war-torn nation. Running away from a bad marriage, she was looking for something more fulfilling to do in life.
In her recent book, 'Kabul Beauty School ', Debbie documents how she arrived in Afghanistan to work with an aid group - mostly comprising doctors, nurses and therapists - but soon realized that she was of little help to them.However, she found her calling in a most unique service. In post-Taliban Afghanistan, the international community is not quite wearing jackboots and camouflage fatigues. Most are well-paid internationals, desperate for some beauty care. Debbie immediately saw potential in that.One to mix around easily with locals as well, Debbie discovered that until the Taliban came to power, Afghan women used to run their own beauty salons. An idea dawned on her. She realized that upgrading the skills of Afghan beauticians, forced underground during the Taliban ban on beauty salons, would be a way of contributing and helping destitute women. As she began collecting money and supplies for the school, she says, she realized another group of women had the same idea at the same time and she decided to join them. Thus was born the Kabul Beauty School.But, this is where Debbie's account begins to deviate from what other women involved in Kabul 's first beauty school have to say. Most have expressed their displeasure at Debbie not giving them their due. But Debbie and her co-author, Kristin Ohlson, deny that she has taken sole credit for the idea and the work.However, in the book, apart from acknowledging the contribution of Mary Meakin - who has stayed and worked in Afghanistan for over 50 years - Debbie chooses to blank out all others. No one else seems to exist in this story of courage, struggle and hope - except for Debbie and the women she is helping.Most reviewers, when they have not been gasping in awe at her work in Afghanistan, have chosen to document the claims and counter-claims of the contending sides. Certainly, the importance of factual narrative in an autobiography is essential. However, the book would have been equally fascinating as a work of fiction.While Debbie's flamboyant personality and marriage to a former commander (who worked for northern Afghan warlord Rasheed Dostum), make the book an easy-sell on talk shows, its appeal actually lies completely outside the how-I-married-an-Afghan-'mujahid'-and-saved-Afghan-women routine.What is fascinating about the book is the wealth of detail, the colors, patterns, dialogues and gestures that document Debbie's odyssey through Kabul. Though tomes have been written analyzing post-conflict Afghanistan, Debbie's narrative brings alive the tapestry of lives, especially of women in post-conflict Kabul, almost without a self-awareness of the documentation.Through the almost surreally-dizzy world of beauty salons, we see lives unfolding. Whether it is the problem of running hair dryers without electricity or the description of markets lined with butcher's stalls with headless carcasses or the harassment of women on the street, Debbie brings to life the sights and smells of the city.Similar is the way her layers of documentation reveal the lives of ordinary women in Kabul: beauticians desperate to join the beauty school and earn a living; or the girl at the salon who tries to get her co-wife to push her husband to divorce so she can be free of an oppressive marriage; or the young girl who has to prove she is a virgin on the night of her marriage even though she is not.At another level, Debbie provides a parallel to the lives of her girls at the beauty parlor. Trapped in an abusive marriage, Debbie tried to cope by "getting religion". Yet, she found little comfort in her spiritual leaders, who could not support her decision for divorce (as her husband had not committed adultery). Not too different from Afghan women, who are told to maintain their marriage despite all odds.Once in Afghanistan, Debbie's friends decided that she needed 'a husband', discussing a prospective partnership as if "offering me another egg roll". Despite her initial surprise, she did accept the egg roll, a mere 20 days after meeting with Samer Mohammed Abdul Khan or Sher, a henchman of Dostum. Debbie speaks frankly of language difficulties and cultural barriers. Her husband has another wife and seven daughters in Saudi Arabia and even though she was angry and unhappy when she found out, she accepted them.Despite this apparent frankness, it is clear from the book that Debbie has revealed as much as she has hidden, turning up only a small sliver of her life for inspection. How does she deal with marriage to a man she had known for less than a month and who speaks scant English? Why did she sideline all her co- workers at the salon in the book? What about her problems with the Ministry of Women's Affairs, which virtually shut down her salon/beauty school on the grounds that she was running a for-profit business? (Debbie herself acknowledges settling a tax demand through a large pay-off.)Unfortunately, these questions must wait: Debbie, a frequent fixture at the Kabul Coffee House, which she owns, has left the country. It is said she may not return and that the book may have forced her to leave the country, of which she wrote in the closing sentences of her book: "As soon as I set my foot on this soil, I knew I'd somehow managed to come home."('Kabul Beauty School: An American Woman Goes Behind the Veil' by Deborah Rodriguez, co-written with Kristin Ohlson. Published by Random House. Price Rs.700/US $17.5)
June 17, 2007
By arrangement with WFS B
Book Review
Aunohita M0jumdar
"She must be married. She does her eyebrows," said my Afghan friend Safia. Despite having grown up in the US, Safia is aware of the entire regimen of codes that govern the social behavior of Afghan women. For example, eyebrows indicate the marital status. Plucked eyebrows indicate marriage. If, by chance, an unmarried woman has plucked eyebrows, it is a suggestion that either she or her family is not very strict about 'morality'.So, when Deborah Rodriguez stepped into this intricate world governed by thousands of minutiae, it was a little like a bull in a China shop. Loud, brazen and colorful, Rodriguez (Debbie, to everyone in Kabul), a hairdresser from Michigan, USA, came to post-Taliban Afghanistan as part of a group offering humanitarian aid to the war-torn nation. Running away from a bad marriage, she was looking for something more fulfilling to do in life.
In her recent book, 'Kabul Beauty School ', Debbie documents how she arrived in Afghanistan to work with an aid group - mostly comprising doctors, nurses and therapists - but soon realized that she was of little help to them.However, she found her calling in a most unique service. In post-Taliban Afghanistan, the international community is not quite wearing jackboots and camouflage fatigues. Most are well-paid internationals, desperate for some beauty care. Debbie immediately saw potential in that.One to mix around easily with locals as well, Debbie discovered that until the Taliban came to power, Afghan women used to run their own beauty salons. An idea dawned on her. She realized that upgrading the skills of Afghan beauticians, forced underground during the Taliban ban on beauty salons, would be a way of contributing and helping destitute women. As she began collecting money and supplies for the school, she says, she realized another group of women had the same idea at the same time and she decided to join them. Thus was born the Kabul Beauty School.But, this is where Debbie's account begins to deviate from what other women involved in Kabul 's first beauty school have to say. Most have expressed their displeasure at Debbie not giving them their due. But Debbie and her co-author, Kristin Ohlson, deny that she has taken sole credit for the idea and the work.However, in the book, apart from acknowledging the contribution of Mary Meakin - who has stayed and worked in Afghanistan for over 50 years - Debbie chooses to blank out all others. No one else seems to exist in this story of courage, struggle and hope - except for Debbie and the women she is helping.Most reviewers, when they have not been gasping in awe at her work in Afghanistan, have chosen to document the claims and counter-claims of the contending sides. Certainly, the importance of factual narrative in an autobiography is essential. However, the book would have been equally fascinating as a work of fiction.While Debbie's flamboyant personality and marriage to a former commander (who worked for northern Afghan warlord Rasheed Dostum), make the book an easy-sell on talk shows, its appeal actually lies completely outside the how-I-married-an-Afghan-'mujahid'-and-saved-Afghan-women routine.What is fascinating about the book is the wealth of detail, the colors, patterns, dialogues and gestures that document Debbie's odyssey through Kabul. Though tomes have been written analyzing post-conflict Afghanistan, Debbie's narrative brings alive the tapestry of lives, especially of women in post-conflict Kabul, almost without a self-awareness of the documentation.Through the almost surreally-dizzy world of beauty salons, we see lives unfolding. Whether it is the problem of running hair dryers without electricity or the description of markets lined with butcher's stalls with headless carcasses or the harassment of women on the street, Debbie brings to life the sights and smells of the city.Similar is the way her layers of documentation reveal the lives of ordinary women in Kabul: beauticians desperate to join the beauty school and earn a living; or the girl at the salon who tries to get her co-wife to push her husband to divorce so she can be free of an oppressive marriage; or the young girl who has to prove she is a virgin on the night of her marriage even though she is not.At another level, Debbie provides a parallel to the lives of her girls at the beauty parlor. Trapped in an abusive marriage, Debbie tried to cope by "getting religion". Yet, she found little comfort in her spiritual leaders, who could not support her decision for divorce (as her husband had not committed adultery). Not too different from Afghan women, who are told to maintain their marriage despite all odds.Once in Afghanistan, Debbie's friends decided that she needed 'a husband', discussing a prospective partnership as if "offering me another egg roll". Despite her initial surprise, she did accept the egg roll, a mere 20 days after meeting with Samer Mohammed Abdul Khan or Sher, a henchman of Dostum. Debbie speaks frankly of language difficulties and cultural barriers. Her husband has another wife and seven daughters in Saudi Arabia and even though she was angry and unhappy when she found out, she accepted them.Despite this apparent frankness, it is clear from the book that Debbie has revealed as much as she has hidden, turning up only a small sliver of her life for inspection. How does she deal with marriage to a man she had known for less than a month and who speaks scant English? Why did she sideline all her co- workers at the salon in the book? What about her problems with the Ministry of Women's Affairs, which virtually shut down her salon/beauty school on the grounds that she was running a for-profit business? (Debbie herself acknowledges settling a tax demand through a large pay-off.)Unfortunately, these questions must wait: Debbie, a frequent fixture at the Kabul Coffee House, which she owns, has left the country. It is said she may not return and that the book may have forced her to leave the country, of which she wrote in the closing sentences of her book: "As soon as I set my foot on this soil, I knew I'd somehow managed to come home."('Kabul Beauty School: An American Woman Goes Behind the Veil' by Deborah Rodriguez, co-written with Kristin Ohlson. Published by Random House. Price Rs.700/US $17.5)
June 17, 2007
By arrangement with WFS B
June 19, 2007
Tussle at the top
The Afghan Parliament, dominated by minority interests, initiates a series of bills, not all of them intended to benefit the people it represents. AUNOHITA MOJUMDAR
June 17, 2007
IN October 2005, the international community was in a celebratory mood. Elections to Afghanistan’s first fully representational parliament had been completed. Sceptics and critics were silenced as doubters and cynics. Yet, since then, this opti mism has dribbled out. Violence has reached proportions higher than at anytime since the ouster of the Taliban in 2001 and there are serious issues regarding the non-delivery of development. However, while these problems are visible, less evident but more serious are the systemic flaws that are revealing themselves in the institutions of State. Nowhere is this better exemplified than in the Parliament itself.Hurried reforms
In 2005 the international community pushed through its agenda of Parliamentary elections in the face of concerned and informed criticism on the grounds that a less than perfect election was better than no election since it was time to empower the representatives of the people. In its eagerness to meet its own deadline, it accepted many compromises. It agreed to President Karzai’s desire to ban political parties from contesting (in any other country this would have been likened to autocratic governance), it agreed to a multi-seat constituency contest while marrying it to the single non-transferable vote system — a hybrid system that beggared belief. Elections also took place before a country-wide census (anyone claiming to be a voter could get a voter identity card), before the disarmament of the legal and illegal armed groups and before any efforts to rein in the more powerful war lords. The result has been a Parliament that is dominated by a minority of interests. In the absence of political parties, issued based politics and ideologies, the most powerful groups emerging from Parliament are those coming together to preserve the status quo, whether it is their own power or a conservative dogma.
Adding to the confusion is a lack of clarity about the procedures of Parliament, or even the demarcation of authority between the three pillars of State. In fact each contested decision is now becoming the battleground for this separation of powers, with the jury out on who will emerge the strongest.
The first visibly disturbing law to be passed was the “amnesty law”. The bill, piloted by former warlords, called for immunity from prosecution for all jihadis, regardless of their actions, on the grounds that they shoul d be honoured. It also called for reconciliation with currently warring groups.
What of the MPs? The Chairman of the Religious and Cultural Affairs Commission, Haji Mohammed Mohaqiq, a former commander, told this reporter that the international community should not interfere with the right of the Parliament to make laws. “There is a contradiction in the action of the international community. First they spent $360 million to organise elections and now they are criticising democracy. We have the right to make laws. Anyone criticizing us is violating our sovereignty and interfering in our internal affairs. The Parliament is the highest law making body.”
Woman MP Shukriya Barakzai challenged this right stating, “in which country does a criminal become his own judge? These people are just using their chairs to protect themselves.”Missing the wood
Eventually protests from the international community led President Karzai to include a clause that would allow individuals to pursue prosecution for individual crimes notwithstanding the reconciliation with currently warring groups. This was, at best, a dubious protection of the interests of the thousands of victims. However, rather than pursuing this flagrant breach of the human rights of victims of war crimes, the international community decided to accept each clause at its face value on a stand-alone basis, rather than examine the contradictions of the law in its totality.
The debate however opened up interesting questions about the authority of the parliament. While internationals suggested that war crimes could not fall within the ambit of amnesty, parliamentarians cited the process of reconciliation in South Africa to defend their right. So did the members have the right, however morally reprehensible their decision might have been?
This week threw up yet another conundrum. The fieriest parliamentarian in Afghanistan, the young woman MP Malalai Joya was suspended for insulting the house. In her comparison of Parliament with an animal barn, animals had come off better. Human Rights Watch rushed to her defence arguing “the article banning criticism of parliament is an unreasonable rule that violates the principle of free speech enshrined in international law and valued around the world.” While the extent of the punishment, suspension for the remainder of her entire term was indeed extreme, there are provisions for punitive action for breach of privilege in every parliament and HRW may have jumped the gun.
In recent weeks, the Parliament has also attempted to dismiss two ministers of the Hamid Karzai on ground of non performance. While Karzai accepted the removal of one minister, he has challenged the decision on the second on the grounds that the process was flawed. The international community came up with an entirely different stance saying that the right of parliament to dismiss ministers was not spelt out explicitly. While the Supreme Court will be the deciding authority the issue does highlight the differing interpretations or rules.
A similar confusion exists over a “bill” passed by the Parliament’s upper house calling for an end to military operations by international forces and talks with the Taliban. No one is quite clear whether the upper house has the authority to initiate a bill.Controversial moves
Other contentious moves have included attempts to pass through a media bill restricting many rights (the bill has now been moderated after an intense campaign by journalists and is under consideration) and several moves which have received far less publicity since they relate to women’s rights, a low priority for parliament, the international community and the Afghan government. They include attempts to lower the age of majority of girls to 13 years, make it mandatory for women MPs and officials to have a mehram or male escort from the family for visits outside the country and an attempt to abolish the Ministry of Women’s Affairs altogether.
The series of conflicts leads to an interesting conundrum. How do you strengthen a democratic institution, the Parliament, while at the same time tempering its democratic authority in the interests of upholding larger democratic values?
June 17, 2007
IN October 2005, the international community was in a celebratory mood. Elections to Afghanistan’s first fully representational parliament had been completed. Sceptics and critics were silenced as doubters and cynics. Yet, since then, this opti mism has dribbled out. Violence has reached proportions higher than at anytime since the ouster of the Taliban in 2001 and there are serious issues regarding the non-delivery of development. However, while these problems are visible, less evident but more serious are the systemic flaws that are revealing themselves in the institutions of State. Nowhere is this better exemplified than in the Parliament itself.Hurried reforms
In 2005 the international community pushed through its agenda of Parliamentary elections in the face of concerned and informed criticism on the grounds that a less than perfect election was better than no election since it was time to empower the representatives of the people. In its eagerness to meet its own deadline, it accepted many compromises. It agreed to President Karzai’s desire to ban political parties from contesting (in any other country this would have been likened to autocratic governance), it agreed to a multi-seat constituency contest while marrying it to the single non-transferable vote system — a hybrid system that beggared belief. Elections also took place before a country-wide census (anyone claiming to be a voter could get a voter identity card), before the disarmament of the legal and illegal armed groups and before any efforts to rein in the more powerful war lords. The result has been a Parliament that is dominated by a minority of interests. In the absence of political parties, issued based politics and ideologies, the most powerful groups emerging from Parliament are those coming together to preserve the status quo, whether it is their own power or a conservative dogma.
Adding to the confusion is a lack of clarity about the procedures of Parliament, or even the demarcation of authority between the three pillars of State. In fact each contested decision is now becoming the battleground for this separation of powers, with the jury out on who will emerge the strongest.
The first visibly disturbing law to be passed was the “amnesty law”. The bill, piloted by former warlords, called for immunity from prosecution for all jihadis, regardless of their actions, on the grounds that they shoul d be honoured. It also called for reconciliation with currently warring groups.
What of the MPs? The Chairman of the Religious and Cultural Affairs Commission, Haji Mohammed Mohaqiq, a former commander, told this reporter that the international community should not interfere with the right of the Parliament to make laws. “There is a contradiction in the action of the international community. First they spent $360 million to organise elections and now they are criticising democracy. We have the right to make laws. Anyone criticizing us is violating our sovereignty and interfering in our internal affairs. The Parliament is the highest law making body.”
Woman MP Shukriya Barakzai challenged this right stating, “in which country does a criminal become his own judge? These people are just using their chairs to protect themselves.”Missing the wood
Eventually protests from the international community led President Karzai to include a clause that would allow individuals to pursue prosecution for individual crimes notwithstanding the reconciliation with currently warring groups. This was, at best, a dubious protection of the interests of the thousands of victims. However, rather than pursuing this flagrant breach of the human rights of victims of war crimes, the international community decided to accept each clause at its face value on a stand-alone basis, rather than examine the contradictions of the law in its totality.
The debate however opened up interesting questions about the authority of the parliament. While internationals suggested that war crimes could not fall within the ambit of amnesty, parliamentarians cited the process of reconciliation in South Africa to defend their right. So did the members have the right, however morally reprehensible their decision might have been?
This week threw up yet another conundrum. The fieriest parliamentarian in Afghanistan, the young woman MP Malalai Joya was suspended for insulting the house. In her comparison of Parliament with an animal barn, animals had come off better. Human Rights Watch rushed to her defence arguing “the article banning criticism of parliament is an unreasonable rule that violates the principle of free speech enshrined in international law and valued around the world.” While the extent of the punishment, suspension for the remainder of her entire term was indeed extreme, there are provisions for punitive action for breach of privilege in every parliament and HRW may have jumped the gun.
In recent weeks, the Parliament has also attempted to dismiss two ministers of the Hamid Karzai on ground of non performance. While Karzai accepted the removal of one minister, he has challenged the decision on the second on the grounds that the process was flawed. The international community came up with an entirely different stance saying that the right of parliament to dismiss ministers was not spelt out explicitly. While the Supreme Court will be the deciding authority the issue does highlight the differing interpretations or rules.
A similar confusion exists over a “bill” passed by the Parliament’s upper house calling for an end to military operations by international forces and talks with the Taliban. No one is quite clear whether the upper house has the authority to initiate a bill.Controversial moves
Other contentious moves have included attempts to pass through a media bill restricting many rights (the bill has now been moderated after an intense campaign by journalists and is under consideration) and several moves which have received far less publicity since they relate to women’s rights, a low priority for parliament, the international community and the Afghan government. They include attempts to lower the age of majority of girls to 13 years, make it mandatory for women MPs and officials to have a mehram or male escort from the family for visits outside the country and an attempt to abolish the Ministry of Women’s Affairs altogether.
The series of conflicts leads to an interesting conundrum. How do you strengthen a democratic institution, the Parliament, while at the same time tempering its democratic authority in the interests of upholding larger democratic values?
Afghan media pin hopes on new law
By Aunohita Mojumdar Kabul
June 5, 2007
The media in Afghanistan works under lots of restrictions
In her newsroom in Afghanistan's only independent news agency, Pajhwok, Farida Nekzad sits worrying about information-gathering.
Greater curbs from government and greater threats to her reporters have made her task more difficult.
Last month she compered a function on world press freedom day when Ajmal Naqshbandi's father limped onto the stage on crutches to receive an honour on behalf of his journalist son who was killed by the Taleban.
The same function saw the mother of another journalist, Tawab Niazi, accept an honour on behalf of her son, who is in jail for talking to the Taleban.
We have some concerns, though there are some good things in the new bill
Aqa Hussain Sancharaki,Afghan National Journalists' Union
"The death of Ajmal Naqshbandi and the media law have brought Afghan journalists together," says Aqa Hussain Sancharaki, a journalist who earlier held the post of deputy minister of information.
He now heads the Afghan National Journalists' Union.
Mr Sancharaki is taking a breather from campaigning for press freedom after the lower house of parliament passed the hotly debated media bill last week.
The bill will now go to the upper house of parliament and subsequently for presidential assent before it becomes law.
In its initial form the bill caused a great deal of concern since it brought the state-owned Radio Television Afghanistan under greater government control and opened private media content to more intense scrutiny and government control.
It also listed a number of broad-ranging restrictions on media content that could be widely interpreted or open to misuse.
Intense lobbying of MPs by journalists, open debates and seminars, an informed critique of the provisions of the draft law, an awareness campaign and some political manoeuvring have helped remove some of the more restrictive clauses from the draft law.
Journalists are, however, cautious about celebrating, aware that the bill might still undergo many mutations and that several of the current provisions are still less than desirable.
Journalists have been targeted and killed in Afghanistan
"We have some concerns, though there are some good things in the new bill," says Mr Sancharaki.
His opinion is also shared by the president of the Association of Independent Afghan Journalists, Rahimullah Samander.
Mr Samander states their concerns bluntly when he says that journalists were worried that the warlords who were amongst the more conservative members would push through a law that would impact negatively on the media.
His fears were not unfounded.
The Religious and Cultural Affairs Commission, headed by former commander Haji Mohammed Mohaqeq, had argued along with the government that an unfettered media would run amok, discrediting individuals without any checks or balances.
Information and Culture Minister Abdul Karim Khurram argued that the country could not afford to have a state broadcaster that was not under government control in a situation of war.
In its current form the media bill has freed the state broadcaster Radio Television Afghanistan from under the control of the Ministry of Information and Culture.
Instead, the broadcaster has been brought under an independent commission which comprises professionals and civil society representatives, including journalists.
The move has been welcomed by journalists, but they are still unsure about the extent of control the government will exert.
A council for formulating media policy now has representation from journalists, although it is still heavily weighed in favour of the government, and the commission for monitoring private media is now made up of professionals.
There are, however, no clear provisions for resolving disputes or the extent of powers of each of the commissions.
The new draft bill also retains some of the wide-ranging content restriction clauses.
The list of prohibitions includes:
content that goes against the principles of Islam
materials humiliating and offensive to real or legal entities
materials inconsistent with Afghanistan's constitution
anything that is considered a crime by the penal code
publicising and promotion of religions other than Islam
broadcasting pictures of victims of violence and rape in a way to cause damage to their social dignity
topics that harm the physical, spiritual and moral well-being of people, especially children and adolescents.
Some of these prohibitions remain open to wide interpretation.
Also worrying is the stipulation that makes it mandatory for the mass media to include programmes on health, the environment, and education, as well as on the dangers of cultivating, producing and consuming illegal drugs.
Ms Ayubi says the new revised bill is better than the previous one
While public education is indeed a necessary component of media, the law does not stipulate a limit on the amount or nature of mandatory material, again leaving this open to interpretation and possible misuse.
The manager of Radio Killid, Najiba Ayubi, is cautious.
"It is not a complete or perfect law, but I can say it is better than before."
Ms Ayubi has been involved with the debate and campaign for a better law during which journalists also brought in Article 19 to explain some of the issues to parliamentarians.
This achievement of Afghan journalists has come at a crucial time.
One of the most successful stories of post-conflict reconstruction, Afghanistan's media are now facing one of their most challenging periods.
Increasing curbs on information have been accompanied by greater violence and increasing intolerance from all sides, even as a sharp cut in donor funding has forced many media organisations to close down, downsize or worry about their survival.
Afghan journalists hope that the new media law, once passed, will give them more rights, rather than making their jobs more difficult.
June 5, 2007
The media in Afghanistan works under lots of restrictions
In her newsroom in Afghanistan's only independent news agency, Pajhwok, Farida Nekzad sits worrying about information-gathering.
Greater curbs from government and greater threats to her reporters have made her task more difficult.
Last month she compered a function on world press freedom day when Ajmal Naqshbandi's father limped onto the stage on crutches to receive an honour on behalf of his journalist son who was killed by the Taleban.
The same function saw the mother of another journalist, Tawab Niazi, accept an honour on behalf of her son, who is in jail for talking to the Taleban.
We have some concerns, though there are some good things in the new bill
Aqa Hussain Sancharaki,Afghan National Journalists' Union
"The death of Ajmal Naqshbandi and the media law have brought Afghan journalists together," says Aqa Hussain Sancharaki, a journalist who earlier held the post of deputy minister of information.
He now heads the Afghan National Journalists' Union.
Mr Sancharaki is taking a breather from campaigning for press freedom after the lower house of parliament passed the hotly debated media bill last week.
The bill will now go to the upper house of parliament and subsequently for presidential assent before it becomes law.
In its initial form the bill caused a great deal of concern since it brought the state-owned Radio Television Afghanistan under greater government control and opened private media content to more intense scrutiny and government control.
It also listed a number of broad-ranging restrictions on media content that could be widely interpreted or open to misuse.
Intense lobbying of MPs by journalists, open debates and seminars, an informed critique of the provisions of the draft law, an awareness campaign and some political manoeuvring have helped remove some of the more restrictive clauses from the draft law.
Journalists are, however, cautious about celebrating, aware that the bill might still undergo many mutations and that several of the current provisions are still less than desirable.
Journalists have been targeted and killed in Afghanistan
"We have some concerns, though there are some good things in the new bill," says Mr Sancharaki.
His opinion is also shared by the president of the Association of Independent Afghan Journalists, Rahimullah Samander.
Mr Samander states their concerns bluntly when he says that journalists were worried that the warlords who were amongst the more conservative members would push through a law that would impact negatively on the media.
His fears were not unfounded.
The Religious and Cultural Affairs Commission, headed by former commander Haji Mohammed Mohaqeq, had argued along with the government that an unfettered media would run amok, discrediting individuals without any checks or balances.
Information and Culture Minister Abdul Karim Khurram argued that the country could not afford to have a state broadcaster that was not under government control in a situation of war.
In its current form the media bill has freed the state broadcaster Radio Television Afghanistan from under the control of the Ministry of Information and Culture.
Instead, the broadcaster has been brought under an independent commission which comprises professionals and civil society representatives, including journalists.
The move has been welcomed by journalists, but they are still unsure about the extent of control the government will exert.
A council for formulating media policy now has representation from journalists, although it is still heavily weighed in favour of the government, and the commission for monitoring private media is now made up of professionals.
There are, however, no clear provisions for resolving disputes or the extent of powers of each of the commissions.
The new draft bill also retains some of the wide-ranging content restriction clauses.
The list of prohibitions includes:
content that goes against the principles of Islam
materials humiliating and offensive to real or legal entities
materials inconsistent with Afghanistan's constitution
anything that is considered a crime by the penal code
publicising and promotion of religions other than Islam
broadcasting pictures of victims of violence and rape in a way to cause damage to their social dignity
topics that harm the physical, spiritual and moral well-being of people, especially children and adolescents.
Some of these prohibitions remain open to wide interpretation.
Also worrying is the stipulation that makes it mandatory for the mass media to include programmes on health, the environment, and education, as well as on the dangers of cultivating, producing and consuming illegal drugs.
Ms Ayubi says the new revised bill is better than the previous one
While public education is indeed a necessary component of media, the law does not stipulate a limit on the amount or nature of mandatory material, again leaving this open to interpretation and possible misuse.
The manager of Radio Killid, Najiba Ayubi, is cautious.
"It is not a complete or perfect law, but I can say it is better than before."
Ms Ayubi has been involved with the debate and campaign for a better law during which journalists also brought in Article 19 to explain some of the issues to parliamentarians.
This achievement of Afghan journalists has come at a crucial time.
One of the most successful stories of post-conflict reconstruction, Afghanistan's media are now facing one of their most challenging periods.
Increasing curbs on information have been accompanied by greater violence and increasing intolerance from all sides, even as a sharp cut in donor funding has forced many media organisations to close down, downsize or worry about their survival.
Afghan journalists hope that the new media law, once passed, will give them more rights, rather than making their jobs more difficult.
Afghanistan anodyne
Review June 2007
By : Aunohita Mojumdar
No Space for Further Burials by Feryal Ali GauharWomen Unlimited, 2007
Feryal Ali Gauhar’s new novel is an unmitigated tale of horror – bestial fact stacked upon bestial fact, evoking revulsion and nausea. The book’s jacket claims that the work powerfully reveals the tragedy of Afghanistan, the terrible madness of war. But No Space for Further Burials never reaches that broader bank, staying caught instead in the narrow sewer it describes.
Although the book’s publisher gives only sketchy details about the author, Gauhar is well-known enough in her multiple roles as a UN goodwill ambassador, a TV actress, and as the author of the 2002 The Scent of Wet Earth in August, which explored Tibbi Galli (Lahore’s red-light area) and the abuse of women. In No Space for Further Burials, she moves away from both Pakistan and gender issues, instead basing her novel in post-Taliban Afghanistan.
Gauhar’s central figure is a US Army soldier who, having strayed from his base, is captured, and suddenly finds himself shoved into in a mental asylum along with mentally deranged, physically crippled and diseased inmates. Inside the walls of the asylum he is known as ‘Firangi’. The asylum, once funded by the government and serviced by foreign doctors, has now been abandoned to itself, with only the inmates/captives remaining behind, kept forcibly by the asylum’s caretaker and his wife. There are several mysteries here: why the caretaker continues to hold these people here; why he and his wife do not turn the inmates free, and escape themselves; where the group’s food comes from, and why they choose to slowly starve rather than leave the asylum’s horrific confines. Perhaps Gauhar feels no need to explain these issues, preferring instead to allow them to build into her endless vortex of sordidness.
In the midst of all this, there are some references to the outside world. Soldiers, who are interchangeable with looters and rebels (the distinction is not explained at any length), come regularly to plunder the asylum for whatever it might yield. There are some brief snapshots of Firangi’s earlier life in his military base, as well as occasional references to the possible futility of the American military attempt to bring democracy and liberation to a country such as Afghanistan. Gauhar tries to weave in bits of Afghan history, as well as that of the Great Depression of 1930s America. Where the book fails is in linking these issues together; in broadening the peephole show to take in the larger world; in balancing the horror with the human element that would let the reader relate to the characters or their squalid situation.
No single character in this asylum is afflicted by just one ailment. Instead, each has a string of horrors plaguing him or her. Even the one friend that Firangi makes in the asylum, Bulbul, ends up making lewd gestures at him before stealing his clothes. All the while, Firangi’s homophobic fear of contact with Bulbul hangs over the relationship like a pallid, overcast sky. At other times, limbs are broken and deformed, flesh is torn, and family tortures family; pus, mucus and blood are liberally smeared over this tale. All forms of madness also make appearances here – rape, injury, the killing of families, and people driven insane by the terrible things that have happened to them.
AnaesthetisedSitting in Afghanistan reading this book, this reviewer notices interest in Afghanistan flagging in the international media. Only the big, sexy stories continue to capture interest: the drug wars, the Taliban and the deaths. There is the fear that reporting on Afghanistan will go the way of Iraq, reduced to stories of the dead and not the living. The incessant roll call of death in Iraq has blunted media viewers the world round – immunised us from feeling anything but the mildest shock. Death tolls of more than a hundred are relegated to sidebars in newspapers, taken off the headlines after cursory mentions in brief bulletins.
The unmitigated reporting of horror functions as an anodyne. The lack of shock evoked by the coverage of Iraq is skewed; not because no one cares about the living, but rather due to the fact that the media does not talk of them. When understanding of a country is reduced to its death count, there is no human face to the tragedy there, and it slowly ceases to matter. Similarly, the sheer horrors in Feryal Ali Gauhar’s book also act as an anodyne, to anaesthetise any sensation.
There is an element of Mantoesque madness recreated in No Space for Further Burials: the blurring of lines between the sane and the insane, between memories and reality, between dreams and facts; the loss of concepts of time and space; the nowhere land of Toba Tek Singh, from where Firangi will not be rescued. At best, however, this remains a mere attempt. The attempt to make everything absolutely horrifying, surpassed by even more unimaginable horrors that lie in wait, destroys what the book sets out to do. No Space for Further Burials may bring up plenty of bile, but it does little to stir real emotions.
By : Aunohita Mojumdar
No Space for Further Burials by Feryal Ali GauharWomen Unlimited, 2007
Feryal Ali Gauhar’s new novel is an unmitigated tale of horror – bestial fact stacked upon bestial fact, evoking revulsion and nausea. The book’s jacket claims that the work powerfully reveals the tragedy of Afghanistan, the terrible madness of war. But No Space for Further Burials never reaches that broader bank, staying caught instead in the narrow sewer it describes.
Although the book’s publisher gives only sketchy details about the author, Gauhar is well-known enough in her multiple roles as a UN goodwill ambassador, a TV actress, and as the author of the 2002 The Scent of Wet Earth in August, which explored Tibbi Galli (Lahore’s red-light area) and the abuse of women. In No Space for Further Burials, she moves away from both Pakistan and gender issues, instead basing her novel in post-Taliban Afghanistan.
Gauhar’s central figure is a US Army soldier who, having strayed from his base, is captured, and suddenly finds himself shoved into in a mental asylum along with mentally deranged, physically crippled and diseased inmates. Inside the walls of the asylum he is known as ‘Firangi’. The asylum, once funded by the government and serviced by foreign doctors, has now been abandoned to itself, with only the inmates/captives remaining behind, kept forcibly by the asylum’s caretaker and his wife. There are several mysteries here: why the caretaker continues to hold these people here; why he and his wife do not turn the inmates free, and escape themselves; where the group’s food comes from, and why they choose to slowly starve rather than leave the asylum’s horrific confines. Perhaps Gauhar feels no need to explain these issues, preferring instead to allow them to build into her endless vortex of sordidness.
In the midst of all this, there are some references to the outside world. Soldiers, who are interchangeable with looters and rebels (the distinction is not explained at any length), come regularly to plunder the asylum for whatever it might yield. There are some brief snapshots of Firangi’s earlier life in his military base, as well as occasional references to the possible futility of the American military attempt to bring democracy and liberation to a country such as Afghanistan. Gauhar tries to weave in bits of Afghan history, as well as that of the Great Depression of 1930s America. Where the book fails is in linking these issues together; in broadening the peephole show to take in the larger world; in balancing the horror with the human element that would let the reader relate to the characters or their squalid situation.
No single character in this asylum is afflicted by just one ailment. Instead, each has a string of horrors plaguing him or her. Even the one friend that Firangi makes in the asylum, Bulbul, ends up making lewd gestures at him before stealing his clothes. All the while, Firangi’s homophobic fear of contact with Bulbul hangs over the relationship like a pallid, overcast sky. At other times, limbs are broken and deformed, flesh is torn, and family tortures family; pus, mucus and blood are liberally smeared over this tale. All forms of madness also make appearances here – rape, injury, the killing of families, and people driven insane by the terrible things that have happened to them.
AnaesthetisedSitting in Afghanistan reading this book, this reviewer notices interest in Afghanistan flagging in the international media. Only the big, sexy stories continue to capture interest: the drug wars, the Taliban and the deaths. There is the fear that reporting on Afghanistan will go the way of Iraq, reduced to stories of the dead and not the living. The incessant roll call of death in Iraq has blunted media viewers the world round – immunised us from feeling anything but the mildest shock. Death tolls of more than a hundred are relegated to sidebars in newspapers, taken off the headlines after cursory mentions in brief bulletins.
The unmitigated reporting of horror functions as an anodyne. The lack of shock evoked by the coverage of Iraq is skewed; not because no one cares about the living, but rather due to the fact that the media does not talk of them. When understanding of a country is reduced to its death count, there is no human face to the tragedy there, and it slowly ceases to matter. Similarly, the sheer horrors in Feryal Ali Gauhar’s book also act as an anodyne, to anaesthetise any sensation.
There is an element of Mantoesque madness recreated in No Space for Further Burials: the blurring of lines between the sane and the insane, between memories and reality, between dreams and facts; the loss of concepts of time and space; the nowhere land of Toba Tek Singh, from where Firangi will not be rescued. At best, however, this remains a mere attempt. The attempt to make everything absolutely horrifying, surpassed by even more unimaginable horrors that lie in wait, destroys what the book sets out to do. No Space for Further Burials may bring up plenty of bile, but it does little to stir real emotions.
May 31, 2007
Muted voices
Hindu, May 27, 2007
An independent and vocal media is one of the rare success stories of Afghanistan. A new bill and dwindling sponsorship, however, threaten its functioning and survival.
AUNOHITA MOJUMDAR
IN a post-conflict situation where reconstruction has been riddled with shortcomings, frustrations and bad policies, Afghanistan’s media is one of the rare success stories. Emerging as a vibrant independent voice, it has brought under scrutiny the performance of the government and the international community and is questioning entrenched interests. In the absence of a consolidated opposition (political parties were banned from the electoral contest during the parliamentary elections), the media often plays the role of a democratic opposition with some success.
However, the very strength of the media now seems to be the cause of its undoing, its critical voice discomfiting those in power. Whether it is the government which fears losing its credibility, the former warlords who would prefer no examination about the sources of their power or past deeds, the Taliban who hold sway in some districts of Southern Afghanistan or the international forces, none is very eager to be scrutinised. The result is increasing threats to the independence of the media at the very moment that they are consolidating the gains of the past five years.
Ominous signs
Ajmal Naqshbandi met a brutal end at the hands of the Taliban who have also arrested several groups of journalists simply for the crime of having “entered their territory” without permission. On the other hand are journalists jailed regularly by the government or media, organisations raided as the country’s largest TV channel Tolo was, recently, for a report which “could be seen as ill-intentioned” and “can lead to various interpretations and cause unnecessary public anguish”. The international security forces strictly control access to information and have, on occasion, detained journalists or seized their materials. Now the country’s parliament is in the midst of debating a law that may further erode the rights of the Afghan media.
Specific clauses in the bill which have caused consternation amongst Afghan journalists include provisions to bring media content directly under the scrutiny of a council appointed and staffed by government officials and bringing all complaints against the media before the courts, the latter a conservative bastion in Afghanistan. There are other clauses restricting content on grounds of culture, tradition and religious sensitivities and the catch-all provision of national interest. While seemingly non-objectionable, these clauses are so wide-ranging that they are open to misuse by those wishing to censor media content for any reason.
In a situation of conflict, facts, for example, are always contentious and the media currently balances the contending versions of the truth. However, if the definition of facts is to be determined by the government, it would result in censorship of all news contrary to government claims whether it emanated from human rights groups, civil society or the Taliban.
Another setback
The new law may also reverse attempts to make the State broadcaster, Radio Television Afghanistan(RTA) into a public service broadcaster. Though taken outside the purview of the Ministry of Information, RTA will be under the control of the government, through a structure that is yet to be determined. The Minister of Information and Culture, Abdul Karim Khurram, says the government cannot afford not to control the RTA in a country at war.
In the absence of a viable opposition, the media has battled alone but vociferously to temper some of the provisions of the new law, with some success. Media conferences and articles and rigorous lobbying by Afghan journalists has alerted parliamentarians to the dangers of a government controlled media and widened the debate.
Unfortunately, the domination of the media by the West or countries from the North in general exacerbates the threat to the media. Within Afghanistan, those wishing to curb media freedoms, whether in the name of social order, national unity, security or traditional and religious values, project media independence as a “Western” or alien value, feeding on the anti-foreigner (read anti-Westerner) hostility endemic to Afghanistan. The lack of engagement of South Asia in this debate has not helped.
Financial support
South Asian media organisations could also help financially by using content generated by Afghan media. This would help substantially in supporting media independence, especially at a time when rapid withdrawal of donor funding has left many news organisations teetering on the edge of survival.
While donors rushed in with funding to set up private independent media in 2003 and 2004, seeing it as an essential component of rebuilding democracy, the financial support is drying up. Donors argue that it is time for market forces to determine the survival of media even though it is clear that the non-existent market in Afghanistan can scarcely support multiple media organisations. Those who are surviving on the market are doing so with an overwhelming portion of entertainment content, usually culled from India and elsewhere. This too may be jeopardised. The Information Minister is keen to slap a ceiling on the use of foreign content in Afghan media even though indigenous production of media content is at an early stage.
The greater threat
The financial crunch has resulted in some media outlets closing down while others are downsizing. An even greater threat lies in the fact that yet others may turn to dubious sources of funding to survive. In a conflict situation where differing sides are carrying out propaganda wars, any vulnerability in the media is likely to be seized upon.
Unlike other countries where a robust tradition of independent media helps the media to tide over difficult periods, Afghanistan’s new media may lack the resilience to survive these times. Once the media loses its independence, it may be very difficult to regain it.
An independent and vocal media is one of the rare success stories of Afghanistan. A new bill and dwindling sponsorship, however, threaten its functioning and survival.
AUNOHITA MOJUMDAR
IN a post-conflict situation where reconstruction has been riddled with shortcomings, frustrations and bad policies, Afghanistan’s media is one of the rare success stories. Emerging as a vibrant independent voice, it has brought under scrutiny the performance of the government and the international community and is questioning entrenched interests. In the absence of a consolidated opposition (political parties were banned from the electoral contest during the parliamentary elections), the media often plays the role of a democratic opposition with some success.
However, the very strength of the media now seems to be the cause of its undoing, its critical voice discomfiting those in power. Whether it is the government which fears losing its credibility, the former warlords who would prefer no examination about the sources of their power or past deeds, the Taliban who hold sway in some districts of Southern Afghanistan or the international forces, none is very eager to be scrutinised. The result is increasing threats to the independence of the media at the very moment that they are consolidating the gains of the past five years.
Ominous signs
Ajmal Naqshbandi met a brutal end at the hands of the Taliban who have also arrested several groups of journalists simply for the crime of having “entered their territory” without permission. On the other hand are journalists jailed regularly by the government or media, organisations raided as the country’s largest TV channel Tolo was, recently, for a report which “could be seen as ill-intentioned” and “can lead to various interpretations and cause unnecessary public anguish”. The international security forces strictly control access to information and have, on occasion, detained journalists or seized their materials. Now the country’s parliament is in the midst of debating a law that may further erode the rights of the Afghan media.
Specific clauses in the bill which have caused consternation amongst Afghan journalists include provisions to bring media content directly under the scrutiny of a council appointed and staffed by government officials and bringing all complaints against the media before the courts, the latter a conservative bastion in Afghanistan. There are other clauses restricting content on grounds of culture, tradition and religious sensitivities and the catch-all provision of national interest. While seemingly non-objectionable, these clauses are so wide-ranging that they are open to misuse by those wishing to censor media content for any reason.
In a situation of conflict, facts, for example, are always contentious and the media currently balances the contending versions of the truth. However, if the definition of facts is to be determined by the government, it would result in censorship of all news contrary to government claims whether it emanated from human rights groups, civil society or the Taliban.
Another setback
The new law may also reverse attempts to make the State broadcaster, Radio Television Afghanistan(RTA) into a public service broadcaster. Though taken outside the purview of the Ministry of Information, RTA will be under the control of the government, through a structure that is yet to be determined. The Minister of Information and Culture, Abdul Karim Khurram, says the government cannot afford not to control the RTA in a country at war.
In the absence of a viable opposition, the media has battled alone but vociferously to temper some of the provisions of the new law, with some success. Media conferences and articles and rigorous lobbying by Afghan journalists has alerted parliamentarians to the dangers of a government controlled media and widened the debate.
Unfortunately, the domination of the media by the West or countries from the North in general exacerbates the threat to the media. Within Afghanistan, those wishing to curb media freedoms, whether in the name of social order, national unity, security or traditional and religious values, project media independence as a “Western” or alien value, feeding on the anti-foreigner (read anti-Westerner) hostility endemic to Afghanistan. The lack of engagement of South Asia in this debate has not helped.
Financial support
South Asian media organisations could also help financially by using content generated by Afghan media. This would help substantially in supporting media independence, especially at a time when rapid withdrawal of donor funding has left many news organisations teetering on the edge of survival.
While donors rushed in with funding to set up private independent media in 2003 and 2004, seeing it as an essential component of rebuilding democracy, the financial support is drying up. Donors argue that it is time for market forces to determine the survival of media even though it is clear that the non-existent market in Afghanistan can scarcely support multiple media organisations. Those who are surviving on the market are doing so with an overwhelming portion of entertainment content, usually culled from India and elsewhere. This too may be jeopardised. The Information Minister is keen to slap a ceiling on the use of foreign content in Afghan media even though indigenous production of media content is at an early stage.
The greater threat
The financial crunch has resulted in some media outlets closing down while others are downsizing. An even greater threat lies in the fact that yet others may turn to dubious sources of funding to survive. In a conflict situation where differing sides are carrying out propaganda wars, any vulnerability in the media is likely to be seized upon.
Unlike other countries where a robust tradition of independent media helps the media to tide over difficult periods, Afghanistan’s new media may lack the resilience to survive these times. Once the media loses its independence, it may be very difficult to regain it.
Afghanistan: Trouble on the farm
Asia Times
By Aunohita Mojumdar KABUL -
Former Afghan warlords and commanders are becoming increasingly adept at fighting their battles in Parliament, with the latest example of their muscle-flexing coming on Monday when firebrand female parliamentarian Malalai Joya was suspended from the Lower House. Joya had compared her fellow, overwhelmingly male, colleagues to farmyard animals. The incident underlines a growing conflict of interests among Parliament, the government and the international community. The contradiction first came to light during the infamous "amnesty
vote" in February when members tried to give themselves immunity from prosecution for any crimes committed during the past 25 years of war. Former communists, mujahideen and Taliban united on this issue. The international community expressed concern over this apparent subversion of the process of transitional justice, resulting in a fierce war of words. The standoff was resolved after President Hamid Karzai signed off on a law that seemed to include a clause to satisfy every need. One clause, Article 3, grants immunity from prosecution, while another clause gives individuals the right to pursue justice over individual crimes. At best the law can be termed ambiguous, a factor that is likely to favor the status quo rather than any pursuit of prosecution of war crimes. However, the United Nations' top representative in the country, Tom Koenigs, claims the law has strengthened the rights of the individual, adding that he has been assured by Karzai that the law does not preempt the state's right to prosecute. Since then, the issue of the extent of Parliament's power and its possible misuse has only grown more acute. Having installed a Parliament in a tearing hurry in 2005, both the government and the international community are now faced with considerable challenges as Parliament comes up with laws and decisions that would be considered incongruous in a liberal democratic framework. Both the US-backed government in Kabul and the international community pushed for the formation of Parliament in 2005 even though few of the conditions that had led to the postponement of elections in 2004 had changed. Elections took place in an environment vitiated by the failure of the disarmament process. The multi-seat single non-transferable vote system used in the elections beggared belief, as did the ban on political parties from contesting in the elections. The situation was compounded by an evidently faulty vetting process. The composition of Parliament therefore falls short of what its backers would have liked. The House of Representatives (Wolesi Jirga - Lower House) is dominated by a minority comprising former commanders and warlords and those who have other sources of wealth and power. This group is taking advantage to push its agenda, helped by a power vacuum in the country created by Karzai's lack of writ beyond the capital, the absence of political parties, and the lack of established parliamentary procedures. This month, the Meshrano Jirga, or Upper House, passed a bill calling for talks with indigenous Taliban, a cessation of operations by international troops, a date for their withdrawal, and the request that these troops operate only when necessary and with the approval of the government. But whether the Upper House can initiate a bill is still to be clarified. If it can, it could render anti-insurgency operations untenable, requiring a complete rewiring of the military strategy of the foreign forces as well as the chain of command. The international community, especially the North Atlantic Treaty Organization and the US-led coalition forces, are counting on Karzai to bail them out. The president's assent is required on all laws passed by Parliament, though his power of veto is limited. If Parliament disagrees with him, it can overrule the president with a two-thirds majority, something that obviously tempers the president's willingness or ability to counter some of the illiberal moves. There was considerable international dismay this month over the "dismissal" of two ministers - the minister of refugees and the minister of foreign affairs, apparently on the grounds of their failure to deal with the problem of returnees and refugees being pushed out by Iran and Pakistan. While Karzai challenged the procedure of a no-confidence vote against Foreign Minister Rangin Dadfar Spanta, (while accepting the no-confidence move against Minister of Refugees Mohammed Akbar), the UN questioned Parliament's authority to dismiss the ministers altogether. It said the UN Assistance Mission in Afghanistan's view "is that the constitution provides for votes of censure of confidence in ministers, but does not expressly give Parliament the right to dismiss ministers". A senior parliamentary official, however, reacted to this statement with anger, saying such observations on the part of the UN amounted to "interference in the country's internal affairs". The official cited Article 92 of the constitution, which allows a vote of no confidence to be passed against any minister by a simple majority of the House. "No confidence means removal of the minister," he insisted. In this case the UN did attempt to interpret the constitution, despite saying that this was the prerogative of the Supreme Court, to which Karzai has referred the issue. A number of countries take particular interest in Afghanistan because they are helping pay for its reconstruction, whether it is physical infrastructure or the institutions of state, such as law and justice and their delivery mechanisms. There is, though, a fine line between aid and interference. Countries are also selective about when they pitch in. They are assertive on issues relating to the rule of law and almost the sole decision-makers in terms of military operations. However, they are quite happy to pipe down on issues relating to gender on the grounds that they do not want to interfere with the cultural traditions of the country. Long before the amnesty bill, parliamentarians attempted to pass laws that would lower the age of consent of girls to 13 years and make it mandatory for all female parliamentarians to be "escorted" by mehrams (male family members) while traveling both within and outside Afghanistan. There was also a concerted bid to abolish the Ministry of Women's Affairs, on the grounds that it had not achieved anything concrete, notwithstanding that it had been deliberately kept weak by making it a policymaking body without any implementing powers. No one is convinced that these moves have seen their last. Harsh words Malalai Joya, 29, who is from Farah province, angered her colleagues when she spoke in a television interview of the "farmyard" nature of Parliament. She added that at least cows were useful as they provided milk. Joya has been a consistent critic of warlords and those accused of war crimes being allowed in Parliament. In 2004, when she challenged their presence in the council established to write a constitution, she received death threats - she now has around-the-clock security. Her outspoken speeches have made her a target for verbal abuse, even while her courage and work for the destitute and women in general have made her extremely popular in her own constituency. She was returned to Parliament with one of the highest numbers of votes, competing against men on her own right rather than entering Parliament as a beneficiary of the reserved seats for women. Joya's outspokenness brought her into Parliament, the same trait that now seems to have had her removed from the House. In the broader picture, if Parliament continues to assert its supremacy at the behest of the "warlord clique", the country could face a political "insurgency" to go with the military one led by the Taliban.
Aunohita Mojumdar is an Indian journalist who is currently based in Kabul. She has reported on the South Asian region for 16 years and has covered the Kashmir conflict and post-conflict situation in Punjab extensively. (Copyright 2007 Asia Times Online Ltd. All rights reserved. Please contact us about sales, syndication and republishing.)
By Aunohita Mojumdar KABUL -
Former Afghan warlords and commanders are becoming increasingly adept at fighting their battles in Parliament, with the latest example of their muscle-flexing coming on Monday when firebrand female parliamentarian Malalai Joya was suspended from the Lower House. Joya had compared her fellow, overwhelmingly male, colleagues to farmyard animals. The incident underlines a growing conflict of interests among Parliament, the government and the international community. The contradiction first came to light during the infamous "amnesty
vote" in February when members tried to give themselves immunity from prosecution for any crimes committed during the past 25 years of war. Former communists, mujahideen and Taliban united on this issue. The international community expressed concern over this apparent subversion of the process of transitional justice, resulting in a fierce war of words. The standoff was resolved after President Hamid Karzai signed off on a law that seemed to include a clause to satisfy every need. One clause, Article 3, grants immunity from prosecution, while another clause gives individuals the right to pursue justice over individual crimes. At best the law can be termed ambiguous, a factor that is likely to favor the status quo rather than any pursuit of prosecution of war crimes. However, the United Nations' top representative in the country, Tom Koenigs, claims the law has strengthened the rights of the individual, adding that he has been assured by Karzai that the law does not preempt the state's right to prosecute. Since then, the issue of the extent of Parliament's power and its possible misuse has only grown more acute. Having installed a Parliament in a tearing hurry in 2005, both the government and the international community are now faced with considerable challenges as Parliament comes up with laws and decisions that would be considered incongruous in a liberal democratic framework. Both the US-backed government in Kabul and the international community pushed for the formation of Parliament in 2005 even though few of the conditions that had led to the postponement of elections in 2004 had changed. Elections took place in an environment vitiated by the failure of the disarmament process. The multi-seat single non-transferable vote system used in the elections beggared belief, as did the ban on political parties from contesting in the elections. The situation was compounded by an evidently faulty vetting process. The composition of Parliament therefore falls short of what its backers would have liked. The House of Representatives (Wolesi Jirga - Lower House) is dominated by a minority comprising former commanders and warlords and those who have other sources of wealth and power. This group is taking advantage to push its agenda, helped by a power vacuum in the country created by Karzai's lack of writ beyond the capital, the absence of political parties, and the lack of established parliamentary procedures. This month, the Meshrano Jirga, or Upper House, passed a bill calling for talks with indigenous Taliban, a cessation of operations by international troops, a date for their withdrawal, and the request that these troops operate only when necessary and with the approval of the government. But whether the Upper House can initiate a bill is still to be clarified. If it can, it could render anti-insurgency operations untenable, requiring a complete rewiring of the military strategy of the foreign forces as well as the chain of command. The international community, especially the North Atlantic Treaty Organization and the US-led coalition forces, are counting on Karzai to bail them out. The president's assent is required on all laws passed by Parliament, though his power of veto is limited. If Parliament disagrees with him, it can overrule the president with a two-thirds majority, something that obviously tempers the president's willingness or ability to counter some of the illiberal moves. There was considerable international dismay this month over the "dismissal" of two ministers - the minister of refugees and the minister of foreign affairs, apparently on the grounds of their failure to deal with the problem of returnees and refugees being pushed out by Iran and Pakistan. While Karzai challenged the procedure of a no-confidence vote against Foreign Minister Rangin Dadfar Spanta, (while accepting the no-confidence move against Minister of Refugees Mohammed Akbar), the UN questioned Parliament's authority to dismiss the ministers altogether. It said the UN Assistance Mission in Afghanistan's view "is that the constitution provides for votes of censure of confidence in ministers, but does not expressly give Parliament the right to dismiss ministers". A senior parliamentary official, however, reacted to this statement with anger, saying such observations on the part of the UN amounted to "interference in the country's internal affairs". The official cited Article 92 of the constitution, which allows a vote of no confidence to be passed against any minister by a simple majority of the House. "No confidence means removal of the minister," he insisted. In this case the UN did attempt to interpret the constitution, despite saying that this was the prerogative of the Supreme Court, to which Karzai has referred the issue. A number of countries take particular interest in Afghanistan because they are helping pay for its reconstruction, whether it is physical infrastructure or the institutions of state, such as law and justice and their delivery mechanisms. There is, though, a fine line between aid and interference. Countries are also selective about when they pitch in. They are assertive on issues relating to the rule of law and almost the sole decision-makers in terms of military operations. However, they are quite happy to pipe down on issues relating to gender on the grounds that they do not want to interfere with the cultural traditions of the country. Long before the amnesty bill, parliamentarians attempted to pass laws that would lower the age of consent of girls to 13 years and make it mandatory for all female parliamentarians to be "escorted" by mehrams (male family members) while traveling both within and outside Afghanistan. There was also a concerted bid to abolish the Ministry of Women's Affairs, on the grounds that it had not achieved anything concrete, notwithstanding that it had been deliberately kept weak by making it a policymaking body without any implementing powers. No one is convinced that these moves have seen their last. Harsh words Malalai Joya, 29, who is from Farah province, angered her colleagues when she spoke in a television interview of the "farmyard" nature of Parliament. She added that at least cows were useful as they provided milk. Joya has been a consistent critic of warlords and those accused of war crimes being allowed in Parliament. In 2004, when she challenged their presence in the council established to write a constitution, she received death threats - she now has around-the-clock security. Her outspoken speeches have made her a target for verbal abuse, even while her courage and work for the destitute and women in general have made her extremely popular in her own constituency. She was returned to Parliament with one of the highest numbers of votes, competing against men on her own right rather than entering Parliament as a beneficiary of the reserved seats for women. Joya's outspokenness brought her into Parliament, the same trait that now seems to have had her removed from the House. In the broader picture, if Parliament continues to assert its supremacy at the behest of the "warlord clique", the country could face a political "insurgency" to go with the military one led by the Taliban.
Aunohita Mojumdar is an Indian journalist who is currently based in Kabul. She has reported on the South Asian region for 16 years and has covered the Kashmir conflict and post-conflict situation in Punjab extensively. (Copyright 2007 Asia Times Online Ltd. All rights reserved. Please contact us about sales, syndication and republishing.)
April 25, 2007
Media at risk under new Afghan law
April 24 Al Jazeera
By
Aunohita Mojumdar
Afghanistan's parliament is on the brink of passing a new media law that may considerably reduce the independence of the country's media.
The controversial amendments to the law, proposed by the religious and cultural affairs commission of the parliament, chaired by former regional commander Haji Mohammed Mohaqeq and supported by the government, will bring both private and state media under greater government control.
Proposed changes include an oversight committee that will scrutinise the functioning of the media including its content.
An earlier proposal to institute an independent commission to carry out this monitoring function has been scrapped in favour of a single body that will have officials from government ministries and departments but not media representatives.
Complaints relating to media content will be referred directly to the supreme court which, in Afghanistan, remains a conservative bastion.
Control of content will be guided through clauses which include prohibitions that prevent publicity of any other religion than Islam, prohibit the media from producing any content that is unislamic or jeopardises the stability of the nation or any false information which might disrupt public opinion.
While some of these clauses are seemingly innocuous, they are so wide-ranging as to allow them to be misused against media organisations not toeing the line.
Fact and falsehood
Interpretations of facts and falsehood, for example, are always contentious in a conflict zone.
The government's determination of what are facts will result in one-sided reportage. Already there have been several attempts to impose guidelines for reporting on the media with a wide-ranging list of subjects which should not be reported.
The recently passed amnesty bill, immunising all jihadis from prosecution also sought to introduce a clause which would force the media to honour the jihadis in any reportage. Both moves were dropped under pressure but may be reintroduced through this bill.
The growing tensions between the media and the government are evident in recent events. The government's decision to trade Taliban prisoners for an Italian reporter leaving an Afghan reporter Ajmal Naqshbandi to be murdered has angered and shocked Afghan journalists.
Tolo television
More recently the country's most popular channel Tolo TV has been locked in a standoff with the attorney general of Afghanistan after police raided the channel following allegations of "misquoting" by Tolo.
Tolo TV, owned by three Afghan-Australian brothers, hit back accusing the attorney general of having carried out an illegal action and calling for his removal from office.
"The potential crimes [of the attorney general] are of the utmost seriousness and directly affect [the] issue of rule of law and sustainability of democracy in Afghanistan, especially given that they may be perpetrated by a person holding the highest operational legal position in Afghanistan," Tolo said.
The information ministry's commission to look into the matter has asked Tolo to apologise saying the channel had "presented the attorney general's statements in a way that can lead to various interpretations and cause unnecessary public anguish. The way this news was broadcast, could be seen as ill-intentioned."
However, Zaid Mohseni, a director of Tolo, states that the commission's finding does not show how and where Tolo had reported inaccurately.
"We are not convinced there is a reason to apologise and we are looking into the matter," Mohseni told Al Jazeera.
The order is indeed ambiguous in that it refers to possible interpretations and mala fides, rather than any substantive breach of facts.
The row illustrates an increasing pattern of confrontation between Afghanistan's independent media and those in power.
As the fledgling post-conflict state comes into being, with old roles being challenged and the balance of power changing, there are few areas where the contradictions have emerged as sharply as in the area of media.
Tolo itself is no stranger to controversy, having pushed the boundaries of media content in Afghanistan with programming content that is often considered to be too forward by Afghan standards.
However, Tolo also acts as a shock absorber for most of the media outlets that also fall far short of the restrictions that conservative sections would like to impose on them.
The new media law will also reverse moves to make the state broadcaster a public service broadcaster, by bringing it under government control.
Abdul Karim Khurram, the information minister, said the government cannot afford not to have control over the state broadcaster since the county was at war.
Khurram also said he would like to ensure a ceiling on the use of foreign content in Afghan media. Channels such as Tolo are highly dependent on foreign content.
Afghanistan currently does not have the capacity to produce adequate programming to meet an increasing demand that has seen the establishment of seven different private channels in the past three years. Khurram's ministry recently banned Tolo TV from rebroadcasting Al Jazeera content.
Mohaqeq, chairman of the religious affairs commission, told this reporter that they would not want the government to use the RTA for propaganda but that the media needed to be brought under specific rules to prevent them from misusing their power to humiliate people.
The argument, which is also one forwarded by the government, has emerged as a uniting platform for those seeking to impose more curbs on media.
Resurgent conservatism as well as consolidation of power by former local commanders, an increasingly authoritative government and other power-brokers has seen increasing attacks on an independent Afghan media that had emerged as one of the strongest components of Afghanistan's attempts to form a democratic pluralistic state.
Source: Al Jazeera
April 24 Al Jazeera
By
Aunohita Mojumdar
Afghanistan's parliament is on the brink of passing a new media law that may considerably reduce the independence of the country's media.
The controversial amendments to the law, proposed by the religious and cultural affairs commission of the parliament, chaired by former regional commander Haji Mohammed Mohaqeq and supported by the government, will bring both private and state media under greater government control.
Proposed changes include an oversight committee that will scrutinise the functioning of the media including its content.
An earlier proposal to institute an independent commission to carry out this monitoring function has been scrapped in favour of a single body that will have officials from government ministries and departments but not media representatives.
Complaints relating to media content will be referred directly to the supreme court which, in Afghanistan, remains a conservative bastion.
Control of content will be guided through clauses which include prohibitions that prevent publicity of any other religion than Islam, prohibit the media from producing any content that is unislamic or jeopardises the stability of the nation or any false information which might disrupt public opinion.
While some of these clauses are seemingly innocuous, they are so wide-ranging as to allow them to be misused against media organisations not toeing the line.
Fact and falsehood
Interpretations of facts and falsehood, for example, are always contentious in a conflict zone.
The government's determination of what are facts will result in one-sided reportage. Already there have been several attempts to impose guidelines for reporting on the media with a wide-ranging list of subjects which should not be reported.
The recently passed amnesty bill, immunising all jihadis from prosecution also sought to introduce a clause which would force the media to honour the jihadis in any reportage. Both moves were dropped under pressure but may be reintroduced through this bill.
The growing tensions between the media and the government are evident in recent events. The government's decision to trade Taliban prisoners for an Italian reporter leaving an Afghan reporter Ajmal Naqshbandi to be murdered has angered and shocked Afghan journalists.
Tolo television
More recently the country's most popular channel Tolo TV has been locked in a standoff with the attorney general of Afghanistan after police raided the channel following allegations of "misquoting" by Tolo.
Tolo TV, owned by three Afghan-Australian brothers, hit back accusing the attorney general of having carried out an illegal action and calling for his removal from office.
"The potential crimes [of the attorney general] are of the utmost seriousness and directly affect [the] issue of rule of law and sustainability of democracy in Afghanistan, especially given that they may be perpetrated by a person holding the highest operational legal position in Afghanistan," Tolo said.
The information ministry's commission to look into the matter has asked Tolo to apologise saying the channel had "presented the attorney general's statements in a way that can lead to various interpretations and cause unnecessary public anguish. The way this news was broadcast, could be seen as ill-intentioned."
However, Zaid Mohseni, a director of Tolo, states that the commission's finding does not show how and where Tolo had reported inaccurately.
"We are not convinced there is a reason to apologise and we are looking into the matter," Mohseni told Al Jazeera.
The order is indeed ambiguous in that it refers to possible interpretations and mala fides, rather than any substantive breach of facts.
The row illustrates an increasing pattern of confrontation between Afghanistan's independent media and those in power.
As the fledgling post-conflict state comes into being, with old roles being challenged and the balance of power changing, there are few areas where the contradictions have emerged as sharply as in the area of media.
Tolo itself is no stranger to controversy, having pushed the boundaries of media content in Afghanistan with programming content that is often considered to be too forward by Afghan standards.
However, Tolo also acts as a shock absorber for most of the media outlets that also fall far short of the restrictions that conservative sections would like to impose on them.
The new media law will also reverse moves to make the state broadcaster a public service broadcaster, by bringing it under government control.
Abdul Karim Khurram, the information minister, said the government cannot afford not to have control over the state broadcaster since the county was at war.
Khurram also said he would like to ensure a ceiling on the use of foreign content in Afghan media. Channels such as Tolo are highly dependent on foreign content.
Afghanistan currently does not have the capacity to produce adequate programming to meet an increasing demand that has seen the establishment of seven different private channels in the past three years. Khurram's ministry recently banned Tolo TV from rebroadcasting Al Jazeera content.
Mohaqeq, chairman of the religious affairs commission, told this reporter that they would not want the government to use the RTA for propaganda but that the media needed to be brought under specific rules to prevent them from misusing their power to humiliate people.
The argument, which is also one forwarded by the government, has emerged as a uniting platform for those seeking to impose more curbs on media.
Resurgent conservatism as well as consolidation of power by former local commanders, an increasingly authoritative government and other power-brokers has seen increasing attacks on an independent Afghan media that had emerged as one of the strongest components of Afghanistan's attempts to form a democratic pluralistic state.
Source: Al Jazeera
Afghan schools' money problems
Afghan schools' money problems
BBC NEWS
By Aunohita Mojumdar Kabul
The return of five million Afghan children to school is one of the major success stories of post-conflict reconstruction in the country.
The figure is cited by the government and the donor community as one of the landmark achievements in a difficult process of rebuilding.
One person for whom the figure remains a source of concern, however, is Afghanistan's Education Minister Hanif Atmar.
"It is the greatest achievement in the history of this country" he says. "However, at best it represents 50-55% of our school-age children."
Ahead of Afghanistan's national budget, Mr Atmar expressed concern that, despite the major challenges ahead, funding for education funding will fall far short of what is needed.
"We will get 24% of what we asked for in the development budget," he predicted.
Planning problems
Most of the donor funding continues to be routed outside the government.
Donors often cite a lack of capacity in government departments to spend the money. They also argue that a lot of money given to the government gets siphoned off by corrupt officials.
The lack of funding through the government creates problems in forward planning.
"The ministry has no clear idea of how much money it is going to get from the external budget at the time of making annual plans because donor funding cycles are often different to the Afghan financial year," says a senior adviser to Mr Atmar.
"Multi-year funding would solve a part of this problem, but right now this is not happening.
"Although we now have a five-year strategy, it is difficult to plan implementation of programmes if we don't know there will be money to support it," the adviser says.
Mr Atmar argues that money spent on education by organisations other than the education ministry is largely wasted, with much of it being eaten away by overheads.
This is a contention supported by many donors.
The UK's Department For International Development (Dfid) estimates that the money given to the government and spent directly by it is eight times more productive than when spent by outside agencies.
Dfid itself routes more than 70% of its aid through the government.
Afghanistan's largest donor, USAid, spends only 7% of its annual budget through the government.
Spending money outside the government "undermines the state rebuilding project", says Mr Atmar, and "the state loses legitimacy".
"We have been invested with the responsibility to develop a sound strategy by the people of this country but we do not have the resources to implement it," he says.
'Decent space'
The strategy spelt out by Mr Atmar has many challenges.
According to the minister, only 40% of school children have "a decent space" to study.
The remaining 60% are in tents or dilapidated structures.
That has a particularly strong impact on the enrolment of girls as parents often want them to study in a more protective and sheltered area.
The problem enrolling of girls is further compounded by the lack of women teachers.
According to the international aid agency Oxfam, only about one quarter of the teachers in Afghanistan are women.
In many conservative parts of the country parents will not send their girls to school unless there are women teachers.
While at primary level there is one girl student for every two boys, this ratio drops to one girl for every five to six boys at secondary level.
Of the 143,000 school teachers on the government's payroll, 80% are not qualified, says Mr Atmar.
In the next five years, he hopes to increase the number of women teachers to 50% of the workforce.
He also wants to make sure that least 70% of the teachers pass competency tests by going through teacher training centres that he hopes to establish in the provinces.
The education ministry is also currently in the process of writing and printing text books for the secondary level curriculum, all of which costs money.
"We are trying to persuade donors to support the national budget or at least programmes under the national education strategy and not implement their own programmes," says the minister's adviser.
"In a 'post-conflict' situation such as in Afghanistan, it is important that the state takes on the responsibility to provide access to basic rights such as education as part of the state-building exercise, unlike under 'normal' development situations where the private sector can play a major role," he says.
"Some donors are now routing more of their money through the national budget which is encouraging, but it is still a fraction and not sufficient considering the needs."
Story from BBC NEWS
BBC NEWS
By Aunohita Mojumdar Kabul
The return of five million Afghan children to school is one of the major success stories of post-conflict reconstruction in the country.
The figure is cited by the government and the donor community as one of the landmark achievements in a difficult process of rebuilding.
One person for whom the figure remains a source of concern, however, is Afghanistan's Education Minister Hanif Atmar.
"It is the greatest achievement in the history of this country" he says. "However, at best it represents 50-55% of our school-age children."
Ahead of Afghanistan's national budget, Mr Atmar expressed concern that, despite the major challenges ahead, funding for education funding will fall far short of what is needed.
"We will get 24% of what we asked for in the development budget," he predicted.
Planning problems
Most of the donor funding continues to be routed outside the government.
Donors often cite a lack of capacity in government departments to spend the money. They also argue that a lot of money given to the government gets siphoned off by corrupt officials.
The lack of funding through the government creates problems in forward planning.
"The ministry has no clear idea of how much money it is going to get from the external budget at the time of making annual plans because donor funding cycles are often different to the Afghan financial year," says a senior adviser to Mr Atmar.
"Multi-year funding would solve a part of this problem, but right now this is not happening.
"Although we now have a five-year strategy, it is difficult to plan implementation of programmes if we don't know there will be money to support it," the adviser says.
Mr Atmar argues that money spent on education by organisations other than the education ministry is largely wasted, with much of it being eaten away by overheads.
This is a contention supported by many donors.
The UK's Department For International Development (Dfid) estimates that the money given to the government and spent directly by it is eight times more productive than when spent by outside agencies.
Dfid itself routes more than 70% of its aid through the government.
Afghanistan's largest donor, USAid, spends only 7% of its annual budget through the government.
Spending money outside the government "undermines the state rebuilding project", says Mr Atmar, and "the state loses legitimacy".
"We have been invested with the responsibility to develop a sound strategy by the people of this country but we do not have the resources to implement it," he says.
'Decent space'
The strategy spelt out by Mr Atmar has many challenges.
According to the minister, only 40% of school children have "a decent space" to study.
The remaining 60% are in tents or dilapidated structures.
That has a particularly strong impact on the enrolment of girls as parents often want them to study in a more protective and sheltered area.
The problem enrolling of girls is further compounded by the lack of women teachers.
According to the international aid agency Oxfam, only about one quarter of the teachers in Afghanistan are women.
In many conservative parts of the country parents will not send their girls to school unless there are women teachers.
While at primary level there is one girl student for every two boys, this ratio drops to one girl for every five to six boys at secondary level.
Of the 143,000 school teachers on the government's payroll, 80% are not qualified, says Mr Atmar.
In the next five years, he hopes to increase the number of women teachers to 50% of the workforce.
He also wants to make sure that least 70% of the teachers pass competency tests by going through teacher training centres that he hopes to establish in the provinces.
The education ministry is also currently in the process of writing and printing text books for the secondary level curriculum, all of which costs money.
"We are trying to persuade donors to support the national budget or at least programmes under the national education strategy and not implement their own programmes," says the minister's adviser.
"In a 'post-conflict' situation such as in Afghanistan, it is important that the state takes on the responsibility to provide access to basic rights such as education as part of the state-building exercise, unlike under 'normal' development situations where the private sector can play a major role," he says.
"Some donors are now routing more of their money through the national budget which is encouraging, but it is still a fraction and not sufficient considering the needs."
Story from BBC NEWS
Afghanistan aid 'must be spread'
Afghanistan aid 'must be spread'
By Aunohita Mojumdar in Kabul,By in Kabul, FT.com sitePublished: Mar 19, 2007
Rory Stewart struggled with insurgents as a deputy governor in the coalition administration in Iraq and briefly worked with United Nations advisers in post-war Afghanistan. These days, the former British diplomat copes with resurgent Taliban forces as head of non-governmental organisation promoting the preservation and renovation of medieval buildings in Afghanistan.
Donor governments, he says, are making a mistake in concentrating aid on projects in southern Afghan provinces where the insurgency is strongest, rather than spreading funds across the impoverished country.
"You cannot deliver development to a population that does not want to work with you – and in some areas in the south we have lost the goodwill of the population," he says. "This cannot be regained through economic development. People cannot just be bought. The Russians invested a great deal in infrastructure, but it did not help them defeat the insurgency. Our best option is to focus on areas where we are welcome."
The focus on aid for southern provinces comes as the US and UK put more stress on economic development and reconstruction as important elements of counter-insurgency strategy in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Military tactics alone have proved insufficient in eliminating armed resistance.
The UK Department for International Development has allocated a fifth of its budget for the next three years to the southern province of Helmand. The US Agency for International Development has concentrated more than half its budget on Helmand and three other southern provinces, according to Leon Waskin, mission director. Afghanistan has 34 provinces.
"The conflict that we see in the south is not going to be solved by military means alone," says Mr Waskin, arguing that increasing economic well-being will sap support for the insurgency.
But even with higher budgets, development agencies find it hard to implement projects in the south. "Throwing money doesn't help when it is not possible to travel to monitor project implementation," says the head of one NGO. Development groups have been forced to rely on unsupervised local workers.
The projects are easy targets for insurgents. Hundreds of Taliban fighters last month attacked the Kajaki dam in Helmand. The reconstruction of the dam, whose hydroelectric units are the main power source for the city of Kandahar, is one of the largest projects in the province, backed by USAID and DFID, but work has been halted by the fighting.
Projects in the south are less cost effective. "The costs of doing the same things are quite high," says a senior official at one agency.
Yet Hazarajat, a central highland region and the most secure area of the country, has seen little infrastructure development
The region, once home to the giant statues of Buddha at Bamiyan demolished by the former Taliban government, remains focused on farming and animal husbandry. The Hazaras, who are believed to be of Turko-Mongolian origin, form a majority of the population of the region and are mainly Shia Muslims – which has in the past contributed towards their political and economic marginalisation.
Habiba Sarobi, governor of Bamiyan province and the only woman in such a position in the country, is disappointed. "[A] road is fundamental to Bamiyan," says Ms Sarobi. "Without it, even tourism cannot develop."
In the absence of paved roads, local farmers have difficulty marketing their produce and tourists keen to see the ruins at Bamiyan come by private plane or hire a jeep for an 11-hour drive from Kabul. A road could cut the trip by two-thirds.
A survey by the Asia Foundation found that nearly two-thirds of Hazarajat had not heard of foreign aid and cited poverty and unemployment as their biggest concerns.
The same survey showed that among the people of Afghanistan, Hazarajat residents had the highest faith in state institutions, such as the police, turned out in the largest numbers to vote and displayed some of the most liberal attitudes towards the rights of women.
Ms Sarobi and her constituents see the focus on the south almost as penalising them in favour of rebellious countrymen. "Some people might think it is a reward for bad behaviour."
Afghanistan aid 'must be spread'
By Aunohita Mojumdar in Kabul,By in Kabul, FT.com sitePublished: Mar 19, 2007
Rory Stewart struggled with insurgents as a deputy governor in the coalition administration in Iraq and briefly worked with United Nations advisers in post-war Afghanistan. These days, the former British diplomat copes with resurgent Taliban forces as head of non-governmental organisation promoting the preservation and renovation of medieval buildings in Afghanistan.
Donor governments, he says, are making a mistake in concentrating aid on projects in southern Afghan provinces where the insurgency is strongest, rather than spreading funds across the impoverished country.
"You cannot deliver development to a population that does not want to work with you – and in some areas in the south we have lost the goodwill of the population," he says. "This cannot be regained through economic development. People cannot just be bought. The Russians invested a great deal in infrastructure, but it did not help them defeat the insurgency. Our best option is to focus on areas where we are welcome."
The focus on aid for southern provinces comes as the US and UK put more stress on economic development and reconstruction as important elements of counter-insurgency strategy in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Military tactics alone have proved insufficient in eliminating armed resistance.
The UK Department for International Development has allocated a fifth of its budget for the next three years to the southern province of Helmand. The US Agency for International Development has concentrated more than half its budget on Helmand and three other southern provinces, according to Leon Waskin, mission director. Afghanistan has 34 provinces.
"The conflict that we see in the south is not going to be solved by military means alone," says Mr Waskin, arguing that increasing economic well-being will sap support for the insurgency.
But even with higher budgets, development agencies find it hard to implement projects in the south. "Throwing money doesn't help when it is not possible to travel to monitor project implementation," says the head of one NGO. Development groups have been forced to rely on unsupervised local workers.
The projects are easy targets for insurgents. Hundreds of Taliban fighters last month attacked the Kajaki dam in Helmand. The reconstruction of the dam, whose hydroelectric units are the main power source for the city of Kandahar, is one of the largest projects in the province, backed by USAID and DFID, but work has been halted by the fighting.
Projects in the south are less cost effective. "The costs of doing the same things are quite high," says a senior official at one agency.
Yet Hazarajat, a central highland region and the most secure area of the country, has seen little infrastructure development
The region, once home to the giant statues of Buddha at Bamiyan demolished by the former Taliban government, remains focused on farming and animal husbandry. The Hazaras, who are believed to be of Turko-Mongolian origin, form a majority of the population of the region and are mainly Shia Muslims – which has in the past contributed towards their political and economic marginalisation.
Habiba Sarobi, governor of Bamiyan province and the only woman in such a position in the country, is disappointed. "[A] road is fundamental to Bamiyan," says Ms Sarobi. "Without it, even tourism cannot develop."
In the absence of paved roads, local farmers have difficulty marketing their produce and tourists keen to see the ruins at Bamiyan come by private plane or hire a jeep for an 11-hour drive from Kabul. A road could cut the trip by two-thirds.
A survey by the Asia Foundation found that nearly two-thirds of Hazarajat had not heard of foreign aid and cited poverty and unemployment as their biggest concerns.
The same survey showed that among the people of Afghanistan, Hazarajat residents had the highest faith in state institutions, such as the police, turned out in the largest numbers to vote and displayed some of the most liberal attitudes towards the rights of women.
Ms Sarobi and her constituents see the focus on the south almost as penalising them in favour of rebellious countrymen. "Some people might think it is a reward for bad behaviour."
By Aunohita Mojumdar in Kabul,By in Kabul, FT.com sitePublished: Mar 19, 2007
Rory Stewart struggled with insurgents as a deputy governor in the coalition administration in Iraq and briefly worked with United Nations advisers in post-war Afghanistan. These days, the former British diplomat copes with resurgent Taliban forces as head of non-governmental organisation promoting the preservation and renovation of medieval buildings in Afghanistan.
Donor governments, he says, are making a mistake in concentrating aid on projects in southern Afghan provinces where the insurgency is strongest, rather than spreading funds across the impoverished country.
"You cannot deliver development to a population that does not want to work with you – and in some areas in the south we have lost the goodwill of the population," he says. "This cannot be regained through economic development. People cannot just be bought. The Russians invested a great deal in infrastructure, but it did not help them defeat the insurgency. Our best option is to focus on areas where we are welcome."
The focus on aid for southern provinces comes as the US and UK put more stress on economic development and reconstruction as important elements of counter-insurgency strategy in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Military tactics alone have proved insufficient in eliminating armed resistance.
The UK Department for International Development has allocated a fifth of its budget for the next three years to the southern province of Helmand. The US Agency for International Development has concentrated more than half its budget on Helmand and three other southern provinces, according to Leon Waskin, mission director. Afghanistan has 34 provinces.
"The conflict that we see in the south is not going to be solved by military means alone," says Mr Waskin, arguing that increasing economic well-being will sap support for the insurgency.
But even with higher budgets, development agencies find it hard to implement projects in the south. "Throwing money doesn't help when it is not possible to travel to monitor project implementation," says the head of one NGO. Development groups have been forced to rely on unsupervised local workers.
The projects are easy targets for insurgents. Hundreds of Taliban fighters last month attacked the Kajaki dam in Helmand. The reconstruction of the dam, whose hydroelectric units are the main power source for the city of Kandahar, is one of the largest projects in the province, backed by USAID and DFID, but work has been halted by the fighting.
Projects in the south are less cost effective. "The costs of doing the same things are quite high," says a senior official at one agency.
Yet Hazarajat, a central highland region and the most secure area of the country, has seen little infrastructure development
The region, once home to the giant statues of Buddha at Bamiyan demolished by the former Taliban government, remains focused on farming and animal husbandry. The Hazaras, who are believed to be of Turko-Mongolian origin, form a majority of the population of the region and are mainly Shia Muslims – which has in the past contributed towards their political and economic marginalisation.
Habiba Sarobi, governor of Bamiyan province and the only woman in such a position in the country, is disappointed. "[A] road is fundamental to Bamiyan," says Ms Sarobi. "Without it, even tourism cannot develop."
In the absence of paved roads, local farmers have difficulty marketing their produce and tourists keen to see the ruins at Bamiyan come by private plane or hire a jeep for an 11-hour drive from Kabul. A road could cut the trip by two-thirds.
A survey by the Asia Foundation found that nearly two-thirds of Hazarajat had not heard of foreign aid and cited poverty and unemployment as their biggest concerns.
The same survey showed that among the people of Afghanistan, Hazarajat residents had the highest faith in state institutions, such as the police, turned out in the largest numbers to vote and displayed some of the most liberal attitudes towards the rights of women.
Ms Sarobi and her constituents see the focus on the south almost as penalising them in favour of rebellious countrymen. "Some people might think it is a reward for bad behaviour."
Afghanistan aid 'must be spread'
By Aunohita Mojumdar in Kabul,By in Kabul, FT.com sitePublished: Mar 19, 2007
Rory Stewart struggled with insurgents as a deputy governor in the coalition administration in Iraq and briefly worked with United Nations advisers in post-war Afghanistan. These days, the former British diplomat copes with resurgent Taliban forces as head of non-governmental organisation promoting the preservation and renovation of medieval buildings in Afghanistan.
Donor governments, he says, are making a mistake in concentrating aid on projects in southern Afghan provinces where the insurgency is strongest, rather than spreading funds across the impoverished country.
"You cannot deliver development to a population that does not want to work with you – and in some areas in the south we have lost the goodwill of the population," he says. "This cannot be regained through economic development. People cannot just be bought. The Russians invested a great deal in infrastructure, but it did not help them defeat the insurgency. Our best option is to focus on areas where we are welcome."
The focus on aid for southern provinces comes as the US and UK put more stress on economic development and reconstruction as important elements of counter-insurgency strategy in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Military tactics alone have proved insufficient in eliminating armed resistance.
The UK Department for International Development has allocated a fifth of its budget for the next three years to the southern province of Helmand. The US Agency for International Development has concentrated more than half its budget on Helmand and three other southern provinces, according to Leon Waskin, mission director. Afghanistan has 34 provinces.
"The conflict that we see in the south is not going to be solved by military means alone," says Mr Waskin, arguing that increasing economic well-being will sap support for the insurgency.
But even with higher budgets, development agencies find it hard to implement projects in the south. "Throwing money doesn't help when it is not possible to travel to monitor project implementation," says the head of one NGO. Development groups have been forced to rely on unsupervised local workers.
The projects are easy targets for insurgents. Hundreds of Taliban fighters last month attacked the Kajaki dam in Helmand. The reconstruction of the dam, whose hydroelectric units are the main power source for the city of Kandahar, is one of the largest projects in the province, backed by USAID and DFID, but work has been halted by the fighting.
Projects in the south are less cost effective. "The costs of doing the same things are quite high," says a senior official at one agency.
Yet Hazarajat, a central highland region and the most secure area of the country, has seen little infrastructure development
The region, once home to the giant statues of Buddha at Bamiyan demolished by the former Taliban government, remains focused on farming and animal husbandry. The Hazaras, who are believed to be of Turko-Mongolian origin, form a majority of the population of the region and are mainly Shia Muslims – which has in the past contributed towards their political and economic marginalisation.
Habiba Sarobi, governor of Bamiyan province and the only woman in such a position in the country, is disappointed. "[A] road is fundamental to Bamiyan," says Ms Sarobi. "Without it, even tourism cannot develop."
In the absence of paved roads, local farmers have difficulty marketing their produce and tourists keen to see the ruins at Bamiyan come by private plane or hire a jeep for an 11-hour drive from Kabul. A road could cut the trip by two-thirds.
A survey by the Asia Foundation found that nearly two-thirds of Hazarajat had not heard of foreign aid and cited poverty and unemployment as their biggest concerns.
The same survey showed that among the people of Afghanistan, Hazarajat residents had the highest faith in state institutions, such as the police, turned out in the largest numbers to vote and displayed some of the most liberal attitudes towards the rights of women.
Ms Sarobi and her constituents see the focus on the south almost as penalising them in favour of rebellious countrymen. "Some people might think it is a reward for bad behaviour."
AFGHANISTAN: Gov't bid to boost police in south
AFGHANISTAN: Gov't bid to boost police in south
KANDAHAR , 4 March 2007 (IRIN) - Abdul Bari has just quit his job. Recruited into the auxiliary police in Kandahar, part of a temporary supplementary force to meet Afghanistan’s shortfall of security forces in the south, the 23-year-old said the job was simply too difficult and dangerous. Despite the resurgence of pro-Taliban forces in the area, there has been little commensurate increase in security forces. Funding and support for the Afghan national police and the army are being stepped up only now, while an increase in the deployment of international forces has been incremental. The Afghan national army has experienced high rates of desertion and it has only half the force of 70,000 it was expected to reach by 2010. As a result, police in the volatile south have no choice but to take on anti-insurgency duties, which prompted the government to set up an auxiliary force. According to Interior Ministry spokesman Zemarai Bashary, the auxiliary police will comprise an additional force of 20,000 for two years for the six southern provinces of Uruzgan, Kandahar, Helmand, Farah, Zabul and Ghazni.
Weak vetting and questions over command structures raise concerns that the new force will be little more than militias. “We needed a temporary increase because we did not have enough police in the remote districts of the south,” Bashary said. However, critics say the force could create yet another source of long-term instability in the country as re-arming of local communities has proved counter-productive in the past. The auxiliary police are drawn from the community and deployed in their own towns and villages, as living with their families in their own areas is supposed to prevent them from deserting. In Helmand, more than 700 of the 1,050 mandated auxiliary police have been trained and deployed, while in Kandahar the original force of 1,300-plus is likely to be increased to 2,000. There are questions, however, over the integrity of the training these men receive as it is a fraction of what regular police are given, allowing for quicker deployment, but sceptics remain concerned over its quality. The International Crisis Group (ICG) says that after just 10 days of training the auxiliary police were given the same weapons and salary as the regular police. “Weak vetting and questions over command structures raise concerns that the new force will be little more than militias,” the ICG said.
Bashary says the auxiliary police are only mandated to carry out law-enforcement duties and not combat, although they must defend themselves if attacked. But for most policemen serving in the south, carrying out their duties involves confronting and usually engaging anti-government elements. For this reason Bari did not believe community policing was an advantage. “I quit because I was commissioned to serve in my own area where everyone in the community knew I was a policeman. I am a resident of Panjwayi district - control of which changes hands between the government and insurgents - so it is difficult and dangerous for me to serve in such an area,” he said. Moreover, for a salary of just US$70 a month, Abdul’s family thought the risks were not worth it. am/ds/at/ar/mw
KANDAHAR , 4 March 2007 (IRIN) - Abdul Bari has just quit his job. Recruited into the auxiliary police in Kandahar, part of a temporary supplementary force to meet Afghanistan’s shortfall of security forces in the south, the 23-year-old said the job was simply too difficult and dangerous. Despite the resurgence of pro-Taliban forces in the area, there has been little commensurate increase in security forces. Funding and support for the Afghan national police and the army are being stepped up only now, while an increase in the deployment of international forces has been incremental. The Afghan national army has experienced high rates of desertion and it has only half the force of 70,000 it was expected to reach by 2010. As a result, police in the volatile south have no choice but to take on anti-insurgency duties, which prompted the government to set up an auxiliary force. According to Interior Ministry spokesman Zemarai Bashary, the auxiliary police will comprise an additional force of 20,000 for two years for the six southern provinces of Uruzgan, Kandahar, Helmand, Farah, Zabul and Ghazni.
Weak vetting and questions over command structures raise concerns that the new force will be little more than militias. “We needed a temporary increase because we did not have enough police in the remote districts of the south,” Bashary said. However, critics say the force could create yet another source of long-term instability in the country as re-arming of local communities has proved counter-productive in the past. The auxiliary police are drawn from the community and deployed in their own towns and villages, as living with their families in their own areas is supposed to prevent them from deserting. In Helmand, more than 700 of the 1,050 mandated auxiliary police have been trained and deployed, while in Kandahar the original force of 1,300-plus is likely to be increased to 2,000. There are questions, however, over the integrity of the training these men receive as it is a fraction of what regular police are given, allowing for quicker deployment, but sceptics remain concerned over its quality. The International Crisis Group (ICG) says that after just 10 days of training the auxiliary police were given the same weapons and salary as the regular police. “Weak vetting and questions over command structures raise concerns that the new force will be little more than militias,” the ICG said.
Bashary says the auxiliary police are only mandated to carry out law-enforcement duties and not combat, although they must defend themselves if attacked. But for most policemen serving in the south, carrying out their duties involves confronting and usually engaging anti-government elements. For this reason Bari did not believe community policing was an advantage. “I quit because I was commissioned to serve in my own area where everyone in the community knew I was a policeman. I am a resident of Panjwayi district - control of which changes hands between the government and insurgents - so it is difficult and dangerous for me to serve in such an area,” he said. Moreover, for a salary of just US$70 a month, Abdul’s family thought the risks were not worth it. am/ds/at/ar/mw
March 06, 2007
Badland Roses
AFGHANISTAN: INDIAN WOMEN
Badland Roses
Four Indian women brave Kabul's perils to help in reconstruction
Aunohita Mojumdar
e-mail one page format feedback: send
Vrinda Dar wanted a "regular" job after a career spent mostly freelancing. "Time to do something settled," she thought. So she accepted an offer from an international NGO to work in Kabul. Not many people would consider a posting in war-torn Afghanistan, separated from one's family, a settling experience. But then Vrinda is not usual. She is among a small group of remarkable Indian women contributing in different ways to the reconstruction of Afghanistan. Their experiences are far from ordinary—as foreigners they face huge security restrictions, as women they combat social conservatism—but as Indians, they benefit from a special regard on the part of Afghans.Working in Afghanistan is not a job for the faint-hearted. While south Afghanistan is in the throes of a conventional military battle, Kabul frequently experiences rocket attacks and suicide bombings in public places. International workers have been kidnapped in broad daylight. In May last year, anti-foreigner riots raged through the city. Several offices and guesthouses where foreigners work or live were set on fire and vandalised. The inhabitants had to escape by jumping over walls. Pushpa Pathak, caught in her office in the Kabul municipality where she works as a senior advisor, was one of them. Pushpa recalls this as one of two times when she has felt scared in Afghanistan. The other occasion was when a massive bomb explosion nearly blew away the glass windows of her guesthouse in 2004.Pushpa, Vrinda and the other Indian women live under an enormously restrictive security regime, in high-walled houses with bunkers, guards and protective plastic on the windows. Also required are a minimum of three residents per establishment, including at least one male. These rules, plus high rents, force them and other foreigners to live in a guesthouse, or share a house with other international workers. Their social activities are severely limited because of curfews and rules that prohibit them from walking anywhere, let alone go shopping or using public transport. Travel within the city has to be under escort, usually with door-to-door drops by office vehicles and only to a limited number of restricted 'security cleared' places. Vrinda, for instance, is not allowed to visit Afghan colleagues. For security reasons, the aid agency she works for can't be named in this article.Anita Nirody (Centre) at a meeting during Pranab Mukherjee’s recent Kabul visit
From time to time, 'lockdowns' are declared that prohibit foreigners from leaving home, or only allow essential travel. Anita Nirody, who is the country director of UNDP in its largest office globally, cancelled her first appointment with Outlook because of a lockdown following a new security alert. Any house she visits has to be security-cleared, in advance. Pushpa says she misses the freedom to go out for a play or a movie or a walk. "I sometimes feel like I am in a cage," frets Vrinda.What makes matters worse are the restrictions on women. While expatriate women generally have more freedom than locals, South Asian women are somewhat differently placed because, as Vrinda points out, Afghan society views them differently. "There is more desire to see reaffirmation of moral standards from South Asian woman," she says.Interestingly, Vrinda finds it far more liberating to be in the villages of Afghanistan than the cities. "Rural people are far more flexible," she says, describing the way she has been able to bond with families there. In Kabul, on the other hand, she finds the intense scrutiny of unescorted women in public spaces very irksome.
Pushpa, who earlier chose not to wear the customary hijab in public, has now started doing so because she otherwise "attracts too much attention".Yet, in her own way, Pushpa has breached many a frontier, as have other Indian women working here. Entrusted with the task of preparing policy and project proposals to raise funding and develop Kabul's land use framework, Pushpa was excited by the professional challenge Afghanistan presented.Pushpa Pathak with her Kabul Municipality colleagues
When she joined the municipality two years ago, it had no women in senior positions, and it took her a while to get respect and cooperation. But she was not surprised or daunted. "I had experienced this before in small towns in India," she recalls. In Afghanistan, there was actually an advantage—her Indian identity helped to gain acceptance, because Afghans like Indians.Other Indian women working in Afghanistan have also experienced this. Shanthini Dawson, a special advisor in the Afghan government for five years, who works in the ministry of education, says Afghans are always too proud to accept help but "find it much easier to accept technical assistance when it comes from the region". "In fact, the downside is more with my Western colleagues who often have patronising questions," she says, adding, "I don't see myself as a foreigner anymore."Cultural affinities between Indians and Afghanistan run deep. They stem from a shared history, cultural similarities, and a sense of common identity that comes from being a developing country with common traditions, problems and challenges. Last but not the least, Afghans and Indians are united in a negative perception of Pakistan. "Hindi not a foreigner" is a common refrain. "When you say you are from Hindustan, doors open by themselves," says Vrinda. It is an advantage Nirody appreciates as well, even though she is now a US citizen and her work with the UN emphasises her international status. Nirody, who grew up in India, says with Indians, Afghans "are willing to take that extra step and there is a sense of familiarity". Nirody applied for work in Afghanistan as soon as the opportunity arose. "It was too exciting to resist," she says. Though all the Indian women Outlook spoke to in Kabul were well aware of the professional and personal challenges, it was a tough decision, with families having to be left behind. Afghanistan is a non-family station for the UN. Pushpa had to counter resistance from her family in UP. Vrinda's Italian husband looks after their children while she's in Afghanistan. But they all feel it has been worth it, mostly for the chance to see their work take shape and change things. "It was the opportunity of a lifetime to come here," says Vrinda. For her, and the others, there are no regrets.
Badland Roses
Four Indian women brave Kabul's perils to help in reconstruction
Aunohita Mojumdar
e-mail one page format feedback: send
Vrinda Dar wanted a "regular" job after a career spent mostly freelancing. "Time to do something settled," she thought. So she accepted an offer from an international NGO to work in Kabul. Not many people would consider a posting in war-torn Afghanistan, separated from one's family, a settling experience. But then Vrinda is not usual. She is among a small group of remarkable Indian women contributing in different ways to the reconstruction of Afghanistan. Their experiences are far from ordinary—as foreigners they face huge security restrictions, as women they combat social conservatism—but as Indians, they benefit from a special regard on the part of Afghans.Working in Afghanistan is not a job for the faint-hearted. While south Afghanistan is in the throes of a conventional military battle, Kabul frequently experiences rocket attacks and suicide bombings in public places. International workers have been kidnapped in broad daylight. In May last year, anti-foreigner riots raged through the city. Several offices and guesthouses where foreigners work or live were set on fire and vandalised. The inhabitants had to escape by jumping over walls. Pushpa Pathak, caught in her office in the Kabul municipality where she works as a senior advisor, was one of them. Pushpa recalls this as one of two times when she has felt scared in Afghanistan. The other occasion was when a massive bomb explosion nearly blew away the glass windows of her guesthouse in 2004.Pushpa, Vrinda and the other Indian women live under an enormously restrictive security regime, in high-walled houses with bunkers, guards and protective plastic on the windows. Also required are a minimum of three residents per establishment, including at least one male. These rules, plus high rents, force them and other foreigners to live in a guesthouse, or share a house with other international workers. Their social activities are severely limited because of curfews and rules that prohibit them from walking anywhere, let alone go shopping or using public transport. Travel within the city has to be under escort, usually with door-to-door drops by office vehicles and only to a limited number of restricted 'security cleared' places. Vrinda, for instance, is not allowed to visit Afghan colleagues. For security reasons, the aid agency she works for can't be named in this article.Anita Nirody (Centre) at a meeting during Pranab Mukherjee’s recent Kabul visit
From time to time, 'lockdowns' are declared that prohibit foreigners from leaving home, or only allow essential travel. Anita Nirody, who is the country director of UNDP in its largest office globally, cancelled her first appointment with Outlook because of a lockdown following a new security alert. Any house she visits has to be security-cleared, in advance. Pushpa says she misses the freedom to go out for a play or a movie or a walk. "I sometimes feel like I am in a cage," frets Vrinda.What makes matters worse are the restrictions on women. While expatriate women generally have more freedom than locals, South Asian women are somewhat differently placed because, as Vrinda points out, Afghan society views them differently. "There is more desire to see reaffirmation of moral standards from South Asian woman," she says.Interestingly, Vrinda finds it far more liberating to be in the villages of Afghanistan than the cities. "Rural people are far more flexible," she says, describing the way she has been able to bond with families there. In Kabul, on the other hand, she finds the intense scrutiny of unescorted women in public spaces very irksome.
Pushpa, who earlier chose not to wear the customary hijab in public, has now started doing so because she otherwise "attracts too much attention".Yet, in her own way, Pushpa has breached many a frontier, as have other Indian women working here. Entrusted with the task of preparing policy and project proposals to raise funding and develop Kabul's land use framework, Pushpa was excited by the professional challenge Afghanistan presented.Pushpa Pathak with her Kabul Municipality colleagues
When she joined the municipality two years ago, it had no women in senior positions, and it took her a while to get respect and cooperation. But she was not surprised or daunted. "I had experienced this before in small towns in India," she recalls. In Afghanistan, there was actually an advantage—her Indian identity helped to gain acceptance, because Afghans like Indians.Other Indian women working in Afghanistan have also experienced this. Shanthini Dawson, a special advisor in the Afghan government for five years, who works in the ministry of education, says Afghans are always too proud to accept help but "find it much easier to accept technical assistance when it comes from the region". "In fact, the downside is more with my Western colleagues who often have patronising questions," she says, adding, "I don't see myself as a foreigner anymore."Cultural affinities between Indians and Afghanistan run deep. They stem from a shared history, cultural similarities, and a sense of common identity that comes from being a developing country with common traditions, problems and challenges. Last but not the least, Afghans and Indians are united in a negative perception of Pakistan. "Hindi not a foreigner" is a common refrain. "When you say you are from Hindustan, doors open by themselves," says Vrinda. It is an advantage Nirody appreciates as well, even though she is now a US citizen and her work with the UN emphasises her international status. Nirody, who grew up in India, says with Indians, Afghans "are willing to take that extra step and there is a sense of familiarity". Nirody applied for work in Afghanistan as soon as the opportunity arose. "It was too exciting to resist," she says. Though all the Indian women Outlook spoke to in Kabul were well aware of the professional and personal challenges, it was a tough decision, with families having to be left behind. Afghanistan is a non-family station for the UN. Pushpa had to counter resistance from her family in UP. Vrinda's Italian husband looks after their children while she's in Afghanistan. But they all feel it has been worth it, mostly for the chance to see their work take shape and change things. "It was the opportunity of a lifetime to come here," says Vrinda. For her, and the others, there are no regrets.
Doubts grow over Afghan war crimes amnesty
Doubts grow over Afghan war crimes amnesty
By Aunohita Mojumdar in Kabul
Published: February 12 2007 19:50 Last updated: February 12 2007 19:50
Haji Safar still remembers vividly the day in 1993 that his 19-year-old son was gunned down in fighting between rival mujahideen groups in the area of western Kabul where he lives and works. He also remembers who was responsible for the fighting.
Abdul al-Rasul Sayyaf and his Ittihad-e-Islami faction “was located in that area,” Mr Safar says, as he points down a road in his neighbourhood. “[Former Afghan President Burhanuddin] Rabbani and Rabbani’s Shura-e Nazar [were] rocketing from that mountain.”
In a newly democratic Afghanistan both factions are now members of parliament. They were also part of a group which on January 31 successfully pushed legislation granting immunity from prosecution to “all people involved in the conflict of the past two-and-a-half decades” through the lower house of the Afghan parliament, the Wolesi Jirga.
The proposed amnesty would also be offered to any anti-government forces now fighting Nato and Afghan troops, as long as they joined a process of reconciliation.
To the normally soft-spoken Haji Safar, the two MPs and others responsible for Afghanistan’s lost decades of violence deserve not amnesty, but death. “I would not just like to see them die. I want them to be hanged more than 10 times,” he says.
The memories of the past 30 years remain fresh for many Afghans, and critics say if the amnesty becomes law it is unlikely that millions of Afghans will ever get a sense of closure. Rough-and-ready retribution may instead become the way to settle decades-old scores.
“The voices of the victims must be heard – and they have spoken out clearly for the culture of impunity in Afghanistan to end,” Louise Arbour, UN Commissioner for Human Rights, said soon after the amnesty resolution was passed by the Wolesi Jirga.
“Experience has shown time and again that effective and durable national reconciliation must be based on respect for international human rights standards and the rule of law, and must not come at their expense.”
Western officials say the resolution’s passing appears to have been a pre-emptive move aimed at averting growing pressure from both inside and outside Afghanistan for the prosecution of war crimes.
A plan endorsed in December by President Hamid Karzai would have seen any war crimes or gross human rights violations prosecuted, and a recent Human Rights Watch report identified a number of Jihadi leaders implicated in past war crimes who were occupying key positions in the government and legislature.
Shukria Barakzai, one of a small minority of MPs who opposed the resolution, calls its passage “a sign of growing extremism and a big threat for democracy, for human rights and for the future of this country”.
The issue has also highlighted the problems underlying the efforts to rush a parliament into being following the US-led 2001 ousting of the Taliban.
The result, critics say, has been a body dominated by a minority of warlords who wield power far disproportionate to their standing with the electorate.
Human rights activists initially dismissed the charter which passed the parliament as a non-binding resolution with no legal standing. Now they say it appears to be a draft law which will be presented to the upper house.
A group of MPs opposed to an amnesty is trying to challenge the resolution’s constitutionality. President Karzai, who would have to sign the legislation into law, has declined to take a position and asked for legal advice, although any presidential veto could be overridden by a two-thirds majority in the lower house.
The position before international law is also unclear. UN officials insist the UN cannot be party to a blanket amnesty and that it would violate Afghanistan’s obligations to international law. However, supporters in the Afghan parliament cite examples such as South Africa as models for granting an amnesty.
“The principle of amnesty in itself is not a bad one,” points out one western observer. “What is problematic is the process which has led to it.”
Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2007
By Aunohita Mojumdar in Kabul
Published: February 12 2007 19:50 Last updated: February 12 2007 19:50
Haji Safar still remembers vividly the day in 1993 that his 19-year-old son was gunned down in fighting between rival mujahideen groups in the area of western Kabul where he lives and works. He also remembers who was responsible for the fighting.
Abdul al-Rasul Sayyaf and his Ittihad-e-Islami faction “was located in that area,” Mr Safar says, as he points down a road in his neighbourhood. “[Former Afghan President Burhanuddin] Rabbani and Rabbani’s Shura-e Nazar [were] rocketing from that mountain.”
In a newly democratic Afghanistan both factions are now members of parliament. They were also part of a group which on January 31 successfully pushed legislation granting immunity from prosecution to “all people involved in the conflict of the past two-and-a-half decades” through the lower house of the Afghan parliament, the Wolesi Jirga.
The proposed amnesty would also be offered to any anti-government forces now fighting Nato and Afghan troops, as long as they joined a process of reconciliation.
To the normally soft-spoken Haji Safar, the two MPs and others responsible for Afghanistan’s lost decades of violence deserve not amnesty, but death. “I would not just like to see them die. I want them to be hanged more than 10 times,” he says.
The memories of the past 30 years remain fresh for many Afghans, and critics say if the amnesty becomes law it is unlikely that millions of Afghans will ever get a sense of closure. Rough-and-ready retribution may instead become the way to settle decades-old scores.
“The voices of the victims must be heard – and they have spoken out clearly for the culture of impunity in Afghanistan to end,” Louise Arbour, UN Commissioner for Human Rights, said soon after the amnesty resolution was passed by the Wolesi Jirga.
“Experience has shown time and again that effective and durable national reconciliation must be based on respect for international human rights standards and the rule of law, and must not come at their expense.”
Western officials say the resolution’s passing appears to have been a pre-emptive move aimed at averting growing pressure from both inside and outside Afghanistan for the prosecution of war crimes.
A plan endorsed in December by President Hamid Karzai would have seen any war crimes or gross human rights violations prosecuted, and a recent Human Rights Watch report identified a number of Jihadi leaders implicated in past war crimes who were occupying key positions in the government and legislature.
Shukria Barakzai, one of a small minority of MPs who opposed the resolution, calls its passage “a sign of growing extremism and a big threat for democracy, for human rights and for the future of this country”.
The issue has also highlighted the problems underlying the efforts to rush a parliament into being following the US-led 2001 ousting of the Taliban.
The result, critics say, has been a body dominated by a minority of warlords who wield power far disproportionate to their standing with the electorate.
Human rights activists initially dismissed the charter which passed the parliament as a non-binding resolution with no legal standing. Now they say it appears to be a draft law which will be presented to the upper house.
A group of MPs opposed to an amnesty is trying to challenge the resolution’s constitutionality. President Karzai, who would have to sign the legislation into law, has declined to take a position and asked for legal advice, although any presidential veto could be overridden by a two-thirds majority in the lower house.
The position before international law is also unclear. UN officials insist the UN cannot be party to a blanket amnesty and that it would violate Afghanistan’s obligations to international law. However, supporters in the Afghan parliament cite examples such as South Africa as models for granting an amnesty.
“The principle of amnesty in itself is not a bad one,” points out one western observer. “What is problematic is the process which has led to it.”
Copyright The Financial Times Limited 2007
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