Panjshiri Factor Looms Over Loya Jirga

The 70-mile-long Panjshir valley remains littered with military

wreckage from the Soviet occupation of the1980s when the Red Army

repeatedly tried - and failed - to quash the region's armed resistance led

by renowned guerrilla leader Ahmed Shah Massoud.

The Northern Alliance commander - who was assassinated last September 9, two

days prior to the al-Qaeda attacks in the US, by suspected members of the militant Islamic group and now lies buried on a hill overlooking the Panjshir River -

also represented the main opposition to the Taleban.

As with the Soviets, Massoud succeeded in preventing them from taking the

Panjshir - and thus acquiring direct access to the north-east of the country - as part of their strategy to control the entire country.

Over a dozen years after Moscow's withdrawal from Afghanistan, the

symbolism of the shattered Red Army tanks and armoured personnel carriers

lying by the roadside or half-submerged in the river as it churns its way

down from the snow-capped Hindu Kush mountains is more than one of victory

over a 20th century Super Power. It is one of resilience, obstinacy, and,

increasingly, arrogance.

And it is this arrogance that is causing one of the greatest problems for

Afghanistan today.

Representing a population of less than 300,000 both inside and outside the

valley, the Panjshiris are asserting a disproportionate and often

heavy-handed control over Kabul. The Panjshiris currently control three key

ministries - defense, interior, and foreign affairs - and are now seeking to

impose their dominance at the Loya Jirga.

They are doing this through a

combination of bribes and intimidation, including physical threats, of the

delegates, who, for the first time, seem to represent the Afghan grassroots

over the interests of the warlords.

The real issue at hand is that the Panjshiris fail to see the need to share

their power with anyone else. They perceive themselves as the country's

natural born leaders, gained by their ability to resist both the Soviets and

the Taleban, with an undisputed right to represent Afghanistan, largely to

the detriment of other tribal or ethnic groups.

Defense Minister Mohammad Qasim Fahim, who was appointed head of the

Northern Alliance following Massoud's death, recently maintained that the

Panjshiris had assumed control in Kabul because there was no one else

proficient enough to run the key ministries.

While claiming to support any government named by the Loya Jirga, he also

said that he would not relinquish control until peace and security

were "fully restored" and "acceptable". To do so otherwise, he

maintained, would be "irresponsible".

Another problem is that, since Massoud's death, there is no single leader

amongst the Panjshiris capable of making decisions as a group. As a result,

each faction, whether headed by Fahim or Interior Minister Yunus Qanuni, is doing

its utmost to retain power.

This is compounded by the lack of any clearly stated policy by the United

States. "The message that needs to be communicated is that the Americans

will not tolerate any form of government that does not fully represent a

broad-based consensus in Afghanistan," said one senior UN official.

The US is regarded as the only power in the position to assert

firm influence over the Panjshiris. In addition, he maintained, the

international donors need to impose conditional aid based on how the

country's leadership perform over the next 18 months.

During the Soviet-Afghan war, Massoud and his men, primarily Panjshiris but

also other northern Tajiks, represented one of Afghanistan's most effective

fighting forces. They were revered by Afghans throughout much of the

country, and became the favourites of many journalists and aid workers.

As a correspondent for the Christian Science Monitor, I first came across

Massoud in the summer of 1981. I had trekked several hundred miles by foot

across north-eastern Afghanistan to report on what one French aid worker had

described as an "extraordinary" guerrilla commander, an Afghan "Che Guevera"

who was not only good at fighting but also cared for the civilian

population.

As the Soviet war dragged on, Massoud's reputation grew. I met with him on

various occasions throughout the 1980s and 1990s. There was no doubt that he

was an impressive man with strong leadership qualities coupled with a vision

for an independent and moderate Afghanistan uniting all ethnic and tribal

groups.

Not only did he succeed in leading his valley against the Soviet empire, but

he later developed his Shura-e-Nezar (Supervisory Council of the North -

soon to be labelled the Northern Alliance) into the only force capable of

staving off the Taleban.

And the Panjshiris knew it. With Massoud their hero, they walked tall

wherever they went, instantly recognisable by their longish hair,

camouflaged uniforms and woolen Chitrali caps. When the Soviets finally left

in February 1989 and the communist regime in Kabul fell more than two years

later, the Panjshiris were among the first to enter the capital.

They immediately began to dominate the city by packing the government with

their own people, competent or not. Corruption abounded and their disdain

for other ethnic groups, particularly the Pashtuns, became more pronounced.

Massoud's insistence on holding the capital in 1994 during the bitter

factional fighting with other former mujahed fronts, such as Hekmatyar

Guldbuddin's Hezb-e-Islami, resulted in the destruction of much of the city

and the loss of over 50,000 lives. His forces also brutally put down Hazara

opposition to his authority.

As a politician, Massoud failed badly. He had genuinely sought to bring

together Afghanistan's diverse ethnic and tribal groups as part of a new

government of unity, but there was too much distrust and the Pashtuns

considered him too powerful. By the time the Taleban took control in 1996,

Massoud and his Panjshiris - once the heroes of the Jihad - had become

overwhelmingly unpopular both in Kabul and many other parts of the country.

Massoud was fully aware of his shortcomings. He was also informed of the

abuses committed by his Panjshiri supporters. Prior to his assassination,

Massoud warned his commanders to never again commit the mistakes of the

early 1990s. This was reiterated during the Bonn talks in December 2001. The

only way for a new government to succeed, he had stressed, was through

equitable power sharing among all groups.

The reality today, however, is far different. Since re-taking Kabul last

November, the Panjshiris have once again sought to control as much as

possible. Known as the "Panjshiri Mafia", they immediately took the main

ministries and are now involved in mafia-style rackets ranging from imposing

their own taxi cartels to beating up competitive Pashtun merchants.

For a faction that claims to represent Afghanistan as a whole, the

Panjshiris have promoted Massoud's image to one of almost mythical

proportions. His portrait appears in virtually every shop, tea house and

mosque in Kabul and the northern areas. It is also featured in every police

or army facility. All of this does not go down well with Afghans,

particularly Pashtuns, who do not regard Massoud as their leader.

"If the Panjshiris were really interested in projecting a unified image,

they should include other heroes such as Abdul Haq," said Anders Fange, a

senior UN official with many years experience in Afghanistan, referring to

the renowned Pashtun resistance commander who was killed by the Taleban in

eastern Afghanistan in the autumn of 2001.

Perhaps most critical of all, the Panjshiris run the Amniyat, the National

Security Directorate, or secret police, which, as with the Soviet-backed

KHAD of the 1980s, is much feared and largely run by armed thugs. In a move

that may totally torpedo the credibility of the Loya Jirga, UN special

representative Lakhdar Brahimi and the assembly commission made a last minute

decision on Sunday to grant the Amniyat full access to the proceedings.

This unexpected move came despite warnings by various advisors, including

senior UN, aid agency and peacekeeping representatives, to keep the Amniyat

out. According to one UN official, who requested anonymity, the secret police can

now be expected to step up its pressure in favour of the Panjshiris, whose

current support within the Loya Jirga, UN estimates believe, stands at

barely 20 per cent.

Regardless what happens at the Loya Jirga, the Panjshiris are clearly

determined to hold on to their influence. But their arrogance may also prove

to be their downfall. Unless they make a greater effort to support a truly broad-based Afghan administration, they risk losing everything.

They may end up with another war on their hands, but this time as an unpopular minority faction with no international sympathy or support.

Geneva-based Edward Girardet, a former correspondent for the Christian

Science Monitor, is director of Media Action International - an IWPR partner organization - and editor of the Essential Field Guide to Afghanistan. He is currently writing a book on 23 years of reporting the wars in Afghanistan.