In Recruiting an Afghan Militia, U.S. Faces a Test
MAIDAN SHAHR, Afghanistan — The ambitious American plan to arm local militias in villages across the country was coming down to a single moment.
The American officers sat on one side of a long wooden table; a group of Afghan elders on the other. The pilot program was up and running, but the area's big enclave of Pashtuns — the ethnic group most closely identified with the Taliban — had not sent any volunteers. The Pashtuns were worried about Taliban reprisals.
"We agreed to meet today and, I believe, make a decision," Lt. Col. Kimo Gallahue told the 11 elders. "Time is running out."
Then he laid down a challenge: "I am so proud to be in the same room with the men who defeated the Soviet Union. Please find the courage to take responsibility for your own security."
The elders, in their turbans and beards, stared blankly at the Americans across the table.
For two hours, the meeting unfolded, laying bare the torments facing any Afghan Pashtuns who might be contemplating defying the Taliban — and the extraordinary difficulties facing American officers as they try to reverse the course of the war.
The meeting in Maidan Shahr, Wardak Province's capital, tucked into the mountains about 30 miles southwest of Kabul, concerned one of the most unorthodox projects the Americans have undertaken here since the war began in 2001: to arm, with minimal training, groups of Afghan men to guard their own neighborhoods.
The military is borrowing a page from a similar program that helped bring about the recent calm to Iraq, where the Americans signed up more than 100,000 Iraqis, most of them Sunnis and many of them insurgents, to keep the peace.
The hope here is that the militias will come to the aid of the overwhelmed Afghan Army and the police, which take longer to train and equip and number only about 160,000. Hundreds were killed last year in Taliban attacks.
If the militias work in Wardak, the Americans say they want to replicate them throughout the country. So the experience in Wardak has been instructive, for what the Americans can accomplish and what they cannot.
At first, everything went well in Jalrez, the mountainous area where the program is based. Young men from two of Jalrez's main ethnic groups, the Tajiks and the Hazaras, enthusiastically came forward; both have largely supported the American presence. Several dozen Pashtuns from other villages showed up as well. Two hundred forty-three volunteers were selected, each vetted by the police, the elders and the local religious leaders. The first crop of recruits went through the three-week course — presided over by American Special Forces officers — and graduated three weeks ago. They are now patrolling the dirt roads of Jalrez.
The trouble came from the Pashtun enclave of Zayawalat, one of five large villages in Jalrez.
The Americans setting up the guard force waited patiently, hoping to bring Zayawalat's elders along. They agreed to a meeting with the elders, and then another and another. At a meeting last week, the fourth, the Pashtun elders said they would make a final decision and report back this week.
But when they showed up Monday morning, the elders said they still were not ready to give up their sons. "It's not that the people in Zayawalat don't support the government — they do," said Hajii Janan, the leader of the Wardak provincial council, who presided over the meeting. "But, as you can see, people are under pressure."
Mr. Janan was not exaggerating. Last month, a local Taliban commander, Abdul Jameel, based in Maidan Shahr, came forward with 10 of his fighters and declared that he would fight no more. Wardak's governor, Halim Fidai, accepted his surrender and told him to go home. The governor offered Mr. Jameel no protection for this act of defiance of the Taliban. Two weeks ago, Taliban gunmen entered Mr. Jameel's home and killed him, his wife, his uncle, his brother and his daughter.
At the meeting on Monday, the elders produced copies of three different leaflets, called "night letters," that had been slipped under the doors of their homes. "The holy warriors urge you to reject the American plan," one of the milder leaflets said. "Stay with us."
The Americans said that although they were sympathetic to the Pashtuns' fears, the time for bravery had come. In January, the Americans dispatched two battalions, about 1,600 men, to Wardak Province, a huge increase over what was here before. Afghans had to risk their lives, too.
The Americans' staunchest ally was the local commander of the National Directorate of Security, Gen. Mullah Razik. He is a Pashtun, too, but has been working with the Americans since 2001.
"This isn't some program imposed by the Americans," General Razik told the elders. "It is for you, your country, your sons and your daughters. It's up to us."
Then there were the two leaders of the council of elders, Ghulam Mohammed and Abdul Ahmed. Both had fought for the Taliban. They were leading the opposition to the militia plan.
Like most Afghans, the life stories of Mr. Mohammed and Mr. Ahmed are full of twists and turns and turnabouts, making their current allegiance somewhat difficult to determine. In the 1980s, Mr. Mohammed and Mr. Ahmed joined a group, the Movement for the Islamic Revolution, and fought the Soviet Union. One of their comrades then was General Razik. All three men have known one another since they were young.
Then, in the 1990s, the Taliban came along, and Mr. Mohammed and Mr. Ahmed joined them. "The Taliban were forcing people to join," Mr. Mohammed said before the meeting. Mr. Mohammed and Mr. Ahmed said they quit the Taliban in November 2001, when the group was driven from Kabul by the American-led invasion.
But one of the questions hanging over the meeting was whether Mr. Ahmed and Mr. Mohammed were still working with the Taliban, after all.
"I don't think they even know what side they are on," said an American Special Forces officer, who is helping to train the militias. He spoke on the condition that he not be named. "Those two are right on the fence, trying to figure out which side to go with. They are trying to get the best deal for themselves."
Mr. Ahmed said as much, wondering whether, if he threw in his lot with the Americans and the Afghan government, they could keep him safe.
"Sure, I could round up 50 guys for you," Mr. Ahmed said. "But the general here has a uniform. He's got guns. All I've got is the turban on my head and a piece of bread."
After two hours, the elders could not decide. Once again, they asked the Americans for more time.
The Americans shook their heads in exasperation.
"This is your last chance," General Razik told the elders. "If you don't take it, we are just going to associate you with the Taliban."
And they agreed to meet again.
The American officers sat on one side of a long wooden table; a group of Afghan elders on the other. The pilot program was up and running, but the area's big enclave of Pashtuns — the ethnic group most closely identified with the Taliban — had not sent any volunteers. The Pashtuns were worried about Taliban reprisals.
"We agreed to meet today and, I believe, make a decision," Lt. Col. Kimo Gallahue told the 11 elders. "Time is running out."
Then he laid down a challenge: "I am so proud to be in the same room with the men who defeated the Soviet Union. Please find the courage to take responsibility for your own security."
The elders, in their turbans and beards, stared blankly at the Americans across the table.
For two hours, the meeting unfolded, laying bare the torments facing any Afghan Pashtuns who might be contemplating defying the Taliban — and the extraordinary difficulties facing American officers as they try to reverse the course of the war.
The meeting in Maidan Shahr, Wardak Province's capital, tucked into the mountains about 30 miles southwest of Kabul, concerned one of the most unorthodox projects the Americans have undertaken here since the war began in 2001: to arm, with minimal training, groups of Afghan men to guard their own neighborhoods.
The military is borrowing a page from a similar program that helped bring about the recent calm to Iraq, where the Americans signed up more than 100,000 Iraqis, most of them Sunnis and many of them insurgents, to keep the peace.
The hope here is that the militias will come to the aid of the overwhelmed Afghan Army and the police, which take longer to train and equip and number only about 160,000. Hundreds were killed last year in Taliban attacks.
If the militias work in Wardak, the Americans say they want to replicate them throughout the country. So the experience in Wardak has been instructive, for what the Americans can accomplish and what they cannot.
At first, everything went well in Jalrez, the mountainous area where the program is based. Young men from two of Jalrez's main ethnic groups, the Tajiks and the Hazaras, enthusiastically came forward; both have largely supported the American presence. Several dozen Pashtuns from other villages showed up as well. Two hundred forty-three volunteers were selected, each vetted by the police, the elders and the local religious leaders. The first crop of recruits went through the three-week course — presided over by American Special Forces officers — and graduated three weeks ago. They are now patrolling the dirt roads of Jalrez.
The trouble came from the Pashtun enclave of Zayawalat, one of five large villages in Jalrez.
The Americans setting up the guard force waited patiently, hoping to bring Zayawalat's elders along. They agreed to a meeting with the elders, and then another and another. At a meeting last week, the fourth, the Pashtun elders said they would make a final decision and report back this week.
But when they showed up Monday morning, the elders said they still were not ready to give up their sons. "It's not that the people in Zayawalat don't support the government — they do," said Hajii Janan, the leader of the Wardak provincial council, who presided over the meeting. "But, as you can see, people are under pressure."
Mr. Janan was not exaggerating. Last month, a local Taliban commander, Abdul Jameel, based in Maidan Shahr, came forward with 10 of his fighters and declared that he would fight no more. Wardak's governor, Halim Fidai, accepted his surrender and told him to go home. The governor offered Mr. Jameel no protection for this act of defiance of the Taliban. Two weeks ago, Taliban gunmen entered Mr. Jameel's home and killed him, his wife, his uncle, his brother and his daughter.
At the meeting on Monday, the elders produced copies of three different leaflets, called "night letters," that had been slipped under the doors of their homes. "The holy warriors urge you to reject the American plan," one of the milder leaflets said. "Stay with us."
The Americans said that although they were sympathetic to the Pashtuns' fears, the time for bravery had come. In January, the Americans dispatched two battalions, about 1,600 men, to Wardak Province, a huge increase over what was here before. Afghans had to risk their lives, too.
The Americans' staunchest ally was the local commander of the National Directorate of Security, Gen. Mullah Razik. He is a Pashtun, too, but has been working with the Americans since 2001.
"This isn't some program imposed by the Americans," General Razik told the elders. "It is for you, your country, your sons and your daughters. It's up to us."
Then there were the two leaders of the council of elders, Ghulam Mohammed and Abdul Ahmed. Both had fought for the Taliban. They were leading the opposition to the militia plan.
Like most Afghans, the life stories of Mr. Mohammed and Mr. Ahmed are full of twists and turns and turnabouts, making their current allegiance somewhat difficult to determine. In the 1980s, Mr. Mohammed and Mr. Ahmed joined a group, the Movement for the Islamic Revolution, and fought the Soviet Union. One of their comrades then was General Razik. All three men have known one another since they were young.
Then, in the 1990s, the Taliban came along, and Mr. Mohammed and Mr. Ahmed joined them. "The Taliban were forcing people to join," Mr. Mohammed said before the meeting. Mr. Mohammed and Mr. Ahmed said they quit the Taliban in November 2001, when the group was driven from Kabul by the American-led invasion.
But one of the questions hanging over the meeting was whether Mr. Ahmed and Mr. Mohammed were still working with the Taliban, after all.
"I don't think they even know what side they are on," said an American Special Forces officer, who is helping to train the militias. He spoke on the condition that he not be named. "Those two are right on the fence, trying to figure out which side to go with. They are trying to get the best deal for themselves."
Mr. Ahmed said as much, wondering whether, if he threw in his lot with the Americans and the Afghan government, they could keep him safe.
"Sure, I could round up 50 guys for you," Mr. Ahmed said. "But the general here has a uniform. He's got guns. All I've got is the turban on my head and a piece of bread."
After two hours, the elders could not decide. Once again, they asked the Americans for more time.
The Americans shook their heads in exasperation.
"This is your last chance," General Razik told the elders. "If you don't take it, we are just going to associate you with the Taliban."
And they agreed to meet again.
-----------------------------------------------------------
N A D E E M M A L I K
Director Programme
AAJ TV
ISLAMABAD
00-92-321-5117511
nadeem.malik@hotmail.com
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