In the Graveyard of Empires: America's War in Afghanistan

rehabilitation.

During the Afghan civil war in the early 1990s, the gardens served as a temporary refuge for civilians fleeing the fighting. Most of the trees in the gardens were either destroyed by the rain of rockets or cut down and used for firewood. The pavilion, built for the entertainment of royal guests, was looted in 1993. So was the Harmesarai (Royal Residence), which was burned and left cluttered with unexploded ordnance. Bullet holes are still visible in several of the remaining trees and buildings, which look like pockmarks from Afghanistan’s violent past.

Yet the gardens have demonstrated an almost surreal ability to regenerate. With the aid of the Aga Khan Trust for Culture and other donors, the gardens experienced a rebirth after the 2001 overthrow of the Taliban regime. They now include ten terraces that are part of the central axis descending westward toward the Kabul River, which meanders through the city before eventually joining the Indus River in Pakistan. The central axis has been reconstructed after extensive archaeological excavation and research, and water is again flowing down the length of the garden, as it did during Babur’s time. Yellow, red, and pink roses welcome visitors near the entrance of the gardens, and an avenue of trees has been planted to provide shade along the terraces of the central axis.

Tucked away on the upper terrace is the tomb of Babur. His body, moved here in 1540, lies next to those of his son Hindal and one of his grandsons. Around 1507, Babur penned the following lines, which illustrate the hardships faced by all Afghans:

There is no violence or injury of fortune

That I have not experienced

This broken heart has endured them all.

Alas, is there one left that I have not encountered?¹

Today, Babur’s grave lies open to the sky, encircled by a carved marble screen surrounded by fruit trees. Just below the grave is an exquisite mosque layered in marble and built by Babur’s successor, Shah Jahan, in the mid- seventeenth century. Shah Jahan’s reign proved to be the height of Mughal splendor—his lasting monument is the Taj Mahal—and it is fitting that these two great historical figures left their mark on the gardens of Kabul.

For me, the gardens illustrate serenity and mystique, both literally and symbolically, in the midst of chaos. Their evolution—from destruction to rejuvenation—over the centuries reminds Afghans and foreigners alike that this is an ancient land that has seen terrible bloodshed and revived itself time and again. There is hope that the region will eventually stabilize and prosper, as it did during the first half of the twentieth century. To get there, however, requires completely rethinking America’s involvement in the region.

The Tragedy of Afghanistan

The U.S. experience in Afghanistan, like that of the great powers that came before it, will not soon be forgotten. Before launching the 2001 campaign, few Americans had an appreciation for the country’s history and subtle complexities, despite the U.S. involvement in the Soviet Union’s disastrous defeat in the 1980s. U.S. policymakers had to relearn that building a government in a fractured, xenophobic country is almost infinitely more challenging than overthrowing one.

The rise of the insurgency in the wake of the U.S. victory over the Taliban was deeply unfortunate. But it was not inevitable. Indeed, the irony of the U.S. experience is that some of America’s most seasoned diplomats and military commanders in Afghanistan did understand the country, but they could not get through to their leaders, who were initially uninterested in nation-building and distracted by Iraq. Zalmay Khalilzad, who had grown up in Afghanistan, and Ronald Neumann, whose first expedition to Afghanistan was in 1967, had a keen appreciation for the historic challenges they faced in Afghanistan. But despite their calls for greater resources and attention, and those of several of their colleagues, such support never came.

In order to restore peace in Afghanistan, we must first understand the causes of war. Afghanistan’s insurgency was caused by a supply of disgruntled villagers unhappy with their government, and a demand for recruits by ideologically motivated leaders. Too little outside support for the Afghan government and too much support for insurgents further undermined governance. This combination proved deadly for the onset—and continuation—of the insurgency.

The existence of a weak and ineffective government was a critical precondition to the rise of violence in Afghanistan. In the past, insurgencies have been likely to develop and acquire local support where state control has declined or collapsed. Afghan leaders at all levels failed to provide good governance. National and local officials were unable to manage resources effectively and implement sound policies. In rural areas of the country, such as the southern provinces of Kandahar and Helmand, there was virtually no improvement in the provision of key services, such as electricity and water, from the Taliban period to the Karzai era.

“Reconstruction efforts” in Afghanistan’s violent south, one Provincial Reconstruction Team commander told me, “have largely been relegated to urban areas because security conditions are so dangerous.”² This created grievances among the local population, who turned to the Taliban and other groups for order and justice. Institutions such as the Afghan National Police were unable to contain a monopoly of violence because of corruption and incompetence, as well as the power of local warlords. Police checkpoints were sometimes used to shake down local Afghans, and they regularly took bribes to allow licit and illicit goods to pass along routes they controlled.

Outside support to the Afghan government was strikingly insufficient as U.S. policymakers began their sojourn into Afghanistan. “I recommended reassuring the Pashtuns that ‘nation-building is not our key strategic goal,’” acknowledged Under Secretary of Defense Douglas Feith. “Rumsfeld was determined not to do ‘nation-building’ as the United States typically did it in the 1990s.”³ Indeed, the United States adopted a “light footprint” approach. But they ultimately would be forced to engage in nation-building to save a country that lacked the basic government institutions necessary to prevent a return of the Taliban, al Qa’ida, and other militant groups. But they did it on the cheap. The number of international troops per capita in Afghanistan was significantly less than virtually every nation-building operation since World War II. By 2003, U.S. financial resources that could have been devoted to Afghanistan were going to Iraq, squandering a momentous opportunity.

In addition, insurgents were also able to gain significant assistance from the international jihadi network and neighboring states, such as Pakistan and Iran. In one of his final reports before leaving Afghanistan in 2008 as the European Union’s special representative, Francesc Vendrell reflected on his decade in Afghanistan and remarked that “we blinded ourselves to growing evidence that Pakistan, contrary to assurances, was condoning the presence of, and probably providing assistance to, the Taliban in keeping with its old policy of supporting extreme Islamist groups as the best means of installing a pliable government in Kabul.” Ironically, Pakistan was not immune to the spreading militancy. “The monster that elements in the ISI…intended to send to Afghanistan has turned against Pakistan itself.”⁴

Like Babur’s gardens, peace in Afghanistan has been cyclical. Despite several decades of war beginning with the Soviet invasion, the reign of Zahir Shah, which lasted from 1933 to 1973, included the longest period of peace and prosperity in Afghanistan’s recent history. During that period, the king found a balance between the central government in Kabul and the local tribal officials who mistrusted national leaders. French social scientist Olivier Roy reminds us that the “history of Afghanistan is one of revolts against the central power and of resistance to the penetration of the countryside by state bureaucracy.”⁵

Based on these challenges and the country’s history, the United States should follow several critical steps to achieve security: It must confront corruption, partner with local (not just national) entities, and undermine the sanctuary in Pakistan. The goal of an effective strategy should be to improve the competence and legitimacy of national and local Afghan institutions to provide security and services to the local population. Success in any counterinsurgency hinges on the support of the local population.

Undermining Corruption

The first step must be to address the massive corruption at the national and local levels, which has steadily alienated the local population and fueled support for insurgent groups. While corruption is endemic in many societies, several forms of corruption appear to have specifically contributed to the Afghan insurgency: drug trafficking, bribery among senior officials, and pervasive extortion among Afghan police and judges. While the