Why Afghanistan is a lost cause

More money leaves the country for private bank accounts each year than the government collects in taxes and fees, the Wall Street Journal reported

By Joel Brinkley

As Gen. David Petraeus assumed his new command in Afghanistan earlier this month, he took up a strategy that has already failed - though not for the reasons most people assume.

Certainly, as most everyone knows, the battle plan appears hopeless. Every night in Marjah, Taliban killers post "night letters" in mosques and other public places, warning city residents they will be killed if they cooperate with the Americans. The next day, quite often, they follow through on their threats.

At least 26 of every 100 children born in Afghanistan die before they reach the age of 5. UNICEF says that's the worst child-mortality rate in the world. Of those who survive, almost 60 percent suffer from moderate to severe stunting - also the world's highest rate. Stunting results from sickness or malnutrition during infancy, and it's irreversible. The children grow up to be small and not very smart.
It makes sense, then, that fewer than one-third of Afghan adults can read and write. On average, they earn about $250 a year and die before they reach age 45 - also among the lowest figures in the world. Finally, they are served by a government that is practically the most corrupt on the planet. Transparency International rates only one country, Somalia, as worse.

Tribune Media Services Inc., Jul. 11, 2010

American and NATO troops "liberated" Marjah in February, hoping it would become a showplace, and now occupation forces number one for every eight city residents. Still, more people are dying in gunbattles on the city's streets right now than during the operation in February. Local officials are afraid to travel by car to the provincial capital, Lashkar Gah. They take a helicopter instead, even when the drive would take only 20 minutes.

Before he was fired last month, Gen. Stanley McChrystal called Marjah a "bleeding ulcer." All of that is part of a noxious stew of problems on the battlefield. Still, in 2005 and 2006, the war in Iraq looked equally hopeless. Since then, however, the situation there has improved significantly.

But a larger problem afflicts the effort in Afghanistan, one that coalition forces are virtually powerless to address. That is the population's blighted state of affairs. Consider a few statistics that limn the people's lives.

At least 26 of every 100 children born in Afghanistan die before they reach the age of 5. UNICEF says that's the worst child-mortality rate in the world. Of those who survive, almost 60 percent suffer from moderate to severe stunting - also the world's highest rate. Stunting results from sickness or malnutrition during infancy, and it's irreversible. The children grow up to be small and not very smart.

It makes sense, then, that fewer than one-third of Afghan adults can read and write. On average, they earn about $250 a year and die before they reach age 45 - also among the lowest figures in the world. Finally, they are served by a government that is practically the most corrupt on the planet. Transparency International rates only one country, Somalia, as worse.

The cornerstone of the coalition's counterinsurgency strategy calls for the Afghan government to step up and provide stronger government institutions and public services. Afghans must begin to regard President Hamid Karzai's administration as an efficient, helpful alternative to the Taliban. The government must also provide security nationwide once the Americans leave.

But consider what the dark social statistics mean for that plan. An estimated 90 percent of the new recruits for the Afghan army are illiterate. You don't have to read to shoot a rifle, but you do need to be able to read the rifle's instruction manual.

The Afghan police are no better educated, but that's not the most serious problem. Across the country, police set up impromptu checkpoints along the road. They stop cars and demand a payment for permission to pass. These are the lawmen who are going to protect the people after the Americans leave? As it is, most won't investigate a crime unless the victim pays a bribe.

What is the Afghan government doing to remedy these pernicious problems? It is sending suitcases full of cash, at least $1 billion a year in bribe proceeds and purloined foreign aid, out of the country to private accounts in Dubai or other banking capitals. That's not a secret; the shipments are declared as they pass through Kabul's airport. The money has been laundered through hawalas, private money-transfer businesses, and the government gives this practice its blessing.

"Taking money out of the country is fine," Karzai said during a news conference last month. "The relatives of government officials can do this," even "my brothers," who are generally regarded as the nation's most avaricious thieves.

More money leaves the country for private bank accounts each year than the government collects in taxes and fees, the Wall Street Journal reported. When pressed, Karzai did allow that "there's a possibility of corruption." The United States is well aware of the problem. Congress is demanding investigations; the military is chartering audits and inquiries.

But that leaves the United States in an impossible position. To win the war in Afghanistan, the United States must turn a nation that stands as a model of bald-faced thievery into a clean, honest institution that cares for its people, now the most neglected in the world.

It can't be done.

Joel Brinkley, a professor of journalism at Stanford University, is a former Pulitzer Prize-winning foreign correspondent for the New York Times. To comment, e-mail Brinkley@foreignmatters.com. Contact us via our online form at sfgate.com/chronicle/submissions/#1.

Category: Taliban, US-NATO, HR Violations, Poverty, Corruption - Views: 102

PM Netanyahu's remarks at the start of today's Cabinet meeting

Shalom, everyone.

These are Bibi's remarks about his visit to the U.S., also known as Prison Nation

11 Jul 2010

PM Netanyahu reported to the Cabinet on his visit to the United States.

Israel Cabinet meeting (Reuters archive photo)

(Communicated by the Prime Minister's Media Adviser)

Following are Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's remarks at the start of

the Cabinet meeting today (Sunday), 11 July 2010:

"Last week I held a series of meetings in New York and Washington, first of

all with US President Barack Obama. I also met with senior American

administration officials, media figures and Jewish community leaders.

The alliance between Israel and the US is stable and strong. It has the

support of the American administration and people. My visit to the US last

week gave tangible expression to strength and durability of this unbreakable

bond. In my meeting with the US President, we had a comprehensive and

excellent discussion in which we covered a broad range of issues.

The first issue that came up was advancing the peace process between us and

the Palestinian Authority. I reiterated to the President Israel's desire to

proceed immediately to direct negotiations with the PA, with the goal being

to advance the diplomatic process and try to reach a peace agreement. The

condition for achieving this agreement is scrupulously maintaining the

security of the country and its citizens. I gained the impression that the

American side as well there is the recognition that we must proceed to

direct talks in order to advance the peace process. I gained the impression

that the President is also attentive to the State of Israel's special

security needs. On these issues we are working in concert. We hope that the

PA will accede to the call to begin direct talks at soon as possible.

The second issue that arose in my conversation with President Obama was the

danger of Iran achieving nuclear weapons and thereby threatening not only

Israel, the Middle East and the peace therein but the entire world as well.

I very much appreciate the Us President's statement that he is determined to

prevent Iran from achieving nuclear weapons. I expressed my appreciation

that he brought a decision on sanctions to the UN Security Council and that

he signed into law aggressive US sanctions several days ago. I expressed

both my hope that other countries will join in these aggressive sanctions

and my assessment that if Iran indeed achieves nuclear weapons, there will

be no effective containment policy against it. Therefore, everything must be

done so that Iran does not achieve nuclear weapons.

The third issue that arose in our talks was the nuclear disarmament

conference. President Obama and the White House reiterated the American

commitment to important strategic understandings with the State of Israel in

this area. The President made it clear that American policy on these

strategic issues has not changed and that the US understands - as the

President put it - that due to the size of the threats against it and given

our history, the State of Israel is in a special situation.

The fourth issue that came up in our conversation was Gilad Shalit. I asked

the President to use his full strength and influence to help us in achieving

Gilad's release after four years of captivity, in which he was been denied

any Red Cross visits - another war crime being perpetrated by Hamas.

Immediately upon my return to Israel, my wife and I met with Aviva and Noam

Shalit. I updated them on my talks on Gilad's release and the efforts to

bring this about.

These and other issues also came up in my meeting with US Secretary of State

Hillary Clinton and Secretary of Defense Robert Gates. I also spoke with

them about the diplomatic process and Israel's security needs, and our plans

to strengthen ourselves in the face of the possible plans of others in the

region.

I also met with UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-Moon and, as I have said, with

senior figures in the American media, including the editors of The New York

Times, The Washington Post, The Wall Street Journal, as well as other

networks and analysts. I also participated in a very warm meeting organized

by the Conference of Presidents of Major American Jewish Organizations.

In all of my meetings, I found understanding and support for Israel as a

whole, understanding that Israel must be supported at this special time

against the attacks - including physical and political - that we have

withstood in recent months. I found broad support for our decision to lift

the civilian blockade on Gaza while strictly maintaining the security

blockade, and the understanding that we are doing what must be done in order

to prevent the entry into Gaza of weapons, missiles and rockets, out of

concern for the security of Israel's citizens.

On Tuesday, I will meet with Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak in Cairo. This

will be our fifth meeting in one year. I hope to work with him in advancing

the direct talks with the Palestinian Authority."

Working

The old man stood on his porch on a tree lined street in a town in Arizona and madly fired off a round from the 30.6 rifle he cradled in his arms.
Within minutes, South Tucson and Tucson Police surrounded his little white stucco house,
and believing that a group of snipers was inside, filled the house, and the old black man, with a number of high impact projectiles.
During the "battle" two Policemen, Sargents, Andy Garcia and Roy Garcia were hit by stray bullets.
Andy's wound caused an ugly scar, he was transported by ambulance to Tucson Medical Center.
Sargent Roy Garcia of the South Tucson PD., was hit in the spine, and paralyzed from the neck down.
The old man now lay on his back, cold and stiff on the pavement in front of his lawn, killed in the opening salvos of gunfire.
Al quesada and I were manning the Paramedic unit that night and were asked to verify the man's death.
"He's about as dead as he could be." Al remarked drily, after a brief visual exam.
"Poor son of a bitch," I muttered.
One of the cops looked down through veiled eyes, hand resting comfortably on the blue steel revolver on his hip, "Call a Meds unit for this worthless, former, piece of shit, fellas, let's go home."
I'd been with the Dept for almost 20 years, I'd experienced a lot of death and disaster, but this particular scene left a very bad taste in my mouth.
Chief Roquillo had watched the entire scene unfolding, his dark, handsome face impassive throughout.
After the ambulance removed the body his eyes were moist, "Christ, what a waste of human life." he said.
He looked at the Paramedic Unit, then at Al and I.
"Take it back to the corral, Men." He said.
Al backed the vehicle out of the driveway, pointed the wheels to the north, and gunned the engine.
Some of the crowd that had gathered looked in our direction.
I heard someone say, "Look at all the blood!" as he pointed towards the sidewalk.
We drove slowly back to the Station in the light of a full moon, the black asphalt street wet and reflective from rain.
A barefoot Mexican kid trotted paralell to our rig, splashing up glassy puddles as he ran, shouting and waving, "HEY Rescue! Hey Al, Hey Mike!"
Al clicked on the siren for a second as he waved at the urchin, who beamed back gratefully, his shiny, black hair streaming rain drops.
We'd been running calls all night.
A cold film of sweat covered my face, my uniform was blood-streaked and damp.
Al pulled the truck to the curb, an ancient, black crone laid on the sidewalk, struggling to rise.
Her white hair was in disarray as she lay propped on one skinny arm.
Al walked over to her and spoke gently, "Are you alright, Grandmother?"
I felt like I was in a dream.
From a small adobe hut in the blackness across the street, mariachi music brassily poured out into the night, mixed with muffled yelps and cries.
The old lady snarled, "Get away, leave me alone or I call the police!"
Next to the house emitting the strange sounds was an old market, made useless by a recent fire.
The rain brought out the smell of burned and blackened timbers, a sickly, smokey, dead odor.
The crone rose unsteadily, desperately clutching a wet paper bag which threatened to dissolve, exposing the green wine bottle within.
Al looked bemused as he returned to the rig and drove on.
He was the kind of Fireman that was moved by death and exposure to the daily grind of existence for so many of the poor in this little barrio in Arizona.
Thunder exploded in the distance, my window was down, the rain drenched my face, it felt good.
Al turned the corner and we approached the Station.
A small, foamy, brown river churned in front of the driveway as we backed in.
Al shut down the engine and I snapped off the radios as he climbed from the rig.
"Let's have some coffee, Mike," he suggested softly.
He walked around the shiny, red unit, opened my door lightly and rested a hand on my shoulder, "Come on, Partner."
I rubbed my eyes wearily, I felt old.
"Go ahead, Al, I'll be right in."
I couldn't get the eyes of the dead, old man out of my thoughts.
As I'd kneeled over him and looked into his staring, sightless eyes, I'd felt something, something that I couldn't verbalize.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand.
I was sweating profusely, techincally, I was diaphoretic.
I gazed through the windshield at the stall door, my thoughts drifting.

"Mike, wake up! Wake up! We have a call!"
I had dozed off in the cab, still belted in.
"I'm awake, Al." I groaned.
"Are you alright, Mike?" He looked concerned.
I shook my head, drops of perspiration flew from my face, "I'm fine, Al, let's roll."
I grabbed the Meds Radio microphone, "What have we got?"
I looked over at Al as he shifted the vehicle and rolled out into the still rainy night, "Structure fire, " he answered, "Wood Bros Hardware."
I keyed the mike, "Meds, this is Rescue four zero, we're out of service responding to a structure fire at 2229 east two ninth street."
"Check, rescue four zero, let us know when you're back."
"Ten four, Meds control" I replaced the mic and looked in the direction we were headed.
Even in the rain and grey, overcast sky , thick black clouds of smoke were visible.
"We're going to earn our pay tonight, Al." I commented, drily.
Al nodded.
Adrenalin was flooding my system, and I began focusing on what I'd be doing next.
Over the years I'd developed some techniques for dealing with fireground situations, most of the techniques involved ways of physically controlling the results of stress that assaulted the body and mind, while working inside of a building that has become a blazing inferno.
Within a few minutes I would be, once again, putting those techniques to the ultimate test.


Thick, black, smoke billowed in the distance, tinged with orange.
A steady stream of conversation and messages crackled over the Motorola radios, STPD, TPD, and both cities fire depts responding to what was obviously a large structure fire.

Adrenalin flowed as we pulled into Wood Bros Hardware parking lot.
Fire trucks were rolling up, gears grinding and billows of diesel smoke churning out behind them.

Hoses were being strung out and water cannon were being played onto the sections of the building where the fire had broken through. We drove to the Chief's car and I spoke to Ronquillo. “Chief, what's the situation?”

He looked immaculate in his white shirt and cap, “There's civilians on the roof,.... Al, you set up a first aid station, Mike you go with Frank Quiroz and get the civilians down.”
“Check, Chief.” I answered.
“Mate”, he jokingly responded.
Quiroz was standing a 32 foot ladder up the building's
side, I grabbed a turnout coat, helmet and pants from engine one and slung a battered looking yellow air pack on my back and followed Frank onto the roof..

It was a scene from hell.
Huge fireballs exploded from the roof fifty feet in front of us.
I looked into the flames and saw what looked like funnels of fire which sucked the oxygen from the air around us.

We ushered the two civilians onto the ladder, and as the last one clambered over the side of the building he yelled, “Don't fall through!” I looked back towards Frank and saw his yellow helmet level with the roof, then disappear in a puff of smoke.
I thought, “Shit, Frank lost his helmet.” Then it hit me, “Frank fell into the building!”
I realized that the roof felt spongy, a distinct feeling, a warning, remembered from recruit training, about the way a roof feels just before it collapses.
I ran towards the wall and “Crack!” felt my foot go through.
As if to defy terrible gravity I willed myself upwards, threw my other foot forward and felt it rush threw a new opening in the roof, as superheated air rushed out.

Like a cartoon character I ran through the air and with a gasp fell into the inferno below me, my hands dragging at the collapsing roof now above me, madly clawing at the wall as I plunged downwards.

As I fell I saw intense orange flame everywhere, I felt my flesh beginning to cook inside my fire suit.
Sometimes in life time slows down, as it was doing now.
I could feel hot embers in my mouth and then the orange flame changed to total blackness as I landed with a thud on the concrete floor of the building.
The heat was intense, I thought, “I'm blind, my eyes have been burned out!”
The pain was becoming intense, I thought, “Death should come quick. Or... maybe I'm already dead! Maybe I'm in Hell!”

Then I heard a scream. It was Frank.
I looked in the direction of the scream and saw a pinpoint of light in the distance, a window.
I struggled to my feet and ran, explosive sounds and wave of heat following me as I sprinted across the cement floor to the window.

Engineer Garcia was leaning into the window, hands stretched out as I grabbed his wrists and he pulled me into the  daylight.
Within minutes I was in the back of an ambulance, with Frank Quiroz, and being administered morphine.
I reached up to my face, it felt hard and deformed.
The pain in my body changed to numbness as my mind began drifting and my senses succumbed to the narcotic.