Page 1 of 2 Time out from a siege
By Syed Saleem Shahzad
KARACHI - In the years following their ouster in 2001, the Taliban waged a
low-intensity war against foreign forces in Afghanistan, characterized by
uncoordinated, sporadic attacks in which the Taliban suffered large losses.
During this period, this correspondent met many Taliban commanders, including
some who were members of Taliban leader Mullah Omar's shura (command
council). Although they
were the core of the Taliban movement, they were mostly young lads educated in madrassas
(seminaries) and they displayed a singular lack of vision.
Most of these meetings took place on the Durand Line near the
Pakistan-Afghanistan border, and invariably the young men appeared extremely
nervous, even with fear in their eyes.
These were the men on whom the resistance depended. Yet remarkably, after years
of meritocracy, this year's spring offensive was a stunning success, extending
Taliban control over vast swaths of the south and southwest and inflicting
heavy casualties on foreign forces.
There is no doubt that increasing public disenchantment with the administration
of President Hamid Karzai in Kabul helped the Taliban win popular support, but
it does not explain their dramatic military success.
One might argue that the youthful Taliban leaders have matured into intelligent
and savvy commanders. Not so. They remain about as blinkered and shortsighted
as they have ever been.
What did happen was that around April, military operations were handed over to
legendary mujahideen commander Maulana Jalaluddin Haqqani, a non-Taliban
veteran of the campaign against the Soviets in the 1980s (see
Taliban's new commander ready for a fight,
Asia Times Online, May 20). In the mid-1990s, after the bloody civil war that
followed the Soviets' withdrawal, Haqqani had surrendered to the Taliban when
they reached Khost province.
In preparation for this year's spring offensive, Haqqani quickly replaced the
highly dedicated but militarily naive Taliban field commanders with his team of
battle-hardened mujahideen. His motto was, "Where there is no vision, there is
no hope." Haqqani made an agreement with Mullah Omar under which once his men
brought victory to a front, they would depart for a new one, leaving the
Taliban behind to administer as they saw fit under their brand of Islam.
This arrangement can best be described as a marriage of convenience. On the one
hand, it would be wrong to assume that the Taliban are the most popular
movement in southwestern Afghanistan. Rather, they are seen as the best
alternative to corrupt and inefficient local administrations.
On the other hand, the mujahideen certainly don't see themselves as subservient
to the young Taliban. What they have in common is a hatred of the occupying
forces.
Thus the Taliban movement acts as a unifying force for all anti-American forces
in the country, while at the same time bringing discipline and order into local
affairs.
Face to face with a fighter
While in Musa Qala, a Taliban stronghold in the north of Helmand province in
the southwest of Afghanistan, this correspondent made satellite-telephone
contact with a commander in the Nawzad district of the province. He is laying
siege to a North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) and Afghan National Army
(ANA) base in the area, although at the time a week-long ceasefire was in
operation.
I was told that it was unsafe to make my own way to meet the commander, so
transport would be sent to fetch me from the hotel where I was staying.
Several anxious hours passed with no sign of my pickup. Finally, as lunch
approached, a tall, sharp-eyed, well-built man walked into the hotel lobby and
sat by a pillar and ordered green tea. He seemed oblivious to his surroundings.
I sat next to him and ordered lunch, which I ate in silence. But when I tried
to pay, the stranger grabbed my wrist and pushed away my hand, barking. "He is
our guest. I will pay the money." He then handed over a Rs1,000 (Pakistan) note
(US$16), which the waiter pocketed without comment.
"I am Abdul Sattar and will take you to Nawzad," the man said, at last breaking
into a smile. We set off in a high-powered double-cab vehicle across deserted,
trackless plains that stretched into the horizon.
We passed through Gila-i-Tangi, a beautiful hill town, and continued until we
arrived at a settlement of mud houses. Two youngsters were waiting for us and
took us to a one-roomed house set on a large plot with trees, flowers and
vegetables.
My heart skipped as we entered the room: about a dozen youths were standing,
all of them holding AK-47s. Ammunition was stacked against the walls, as well
as more AKs, machine-guns, rocket-propelled grenades and rockets.
A light-skinned man with piercing eyes and a strong-looking body
