TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/051589/05158900.033

Text File | 1992-09-25 | 7.3 KB | 135 lines

                                                                                WORLD, Page 40

Misplaced Optimism


Despite U.S. help, the mujahedin are gaining little ground

By John Elson/Reported by Edward W. Desmond/Peshawar and Strobe
Talbott/Washington


    When the last of the Soviet Union's 115,000 troops rumbled out
of Afghanistan last February, the common wisdom saw it as a
whimpering finale to Moscow's Viet Nam. Surely it would be only a
matter of time -- months at most -- before the collapse of the
Kabul government led by President Najibullah, the weak puppet left
in place by the withdrawing Soviets. Succeeding him would be an
interim government composed of seven U.S.- and Pakistan-backed
mujahedin factions.

    So much for conventional wisdom. This week, when Secretary of
State James Baker flies to Moscow for talks with Foreign Minister
Eduard Shevardnadze, Afghanistan will be high on the agenda:
namely, Soviet requests for negotiations to devise a political
settlement of the stalemated war between the mujahedin and the
Kabul forces. Moscow will complain, moreover, that the ongoing
fighting is fueled by arms from the U.S., a violation of the Geneva
accord that led to the Soviet troop withdrawal. But Baker is
unlikely to respond favorably. The National Security Council has
concluded that the rebels need more time to prove their military
mettle before the U.S. considers any substantial change in its
policy of supporting them. President George Bush argued that it
would be "unfair" to stop arming the mujahedin as long as the
Soviets are handing over vast quantities of weapons to Kabul.

    What clouded Washington's initially rosy scenario was the
surprising tenacity of the Najibullah government. Few thought the
leader handpicked by the Soviets could survive the departure of
Moscow's troops, but he has moved with unexpected astuteness,
politically and militarily. A much heralded mujahedin assault on
the city of Jalalabad has bogged down in a costly siege. In a
battle plan now called a "disaster" by a U.S. official, the
guerrillas failed to make the transition from hit-and-run attackers
to disciplined militiamen able to plan and carry out complicated
offensives.

    On the political front, U.S. optimism also seems misplaced.
Some experts are worried that the mujahedin leader who has received
the lion's share of U.S. support, Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, is a fanatic
Muslim who might turn out to be Afghanistan's version of the
Ayatullah Khomeini. Others wonder whether the mujahedin coalition,
linked by hatred of the Najibullah regime, could stay together long
enough to form an effective government.

    The mujahedin's political disarray is heightened by the
military stalemate at Jalalabad. On March 6, a force of 10,000
guerrillas launched an assault on the city, which was defended by
an estimated 11,000 government troops. From the rebel perspective,
Jalalabad was a logical, indeed necessary target. Government forces
occupied 25 of Afghanistan's 31 provincial capitals. Seizing
Jalalabad, the third largest city, would not only wound the fragile
morale of government troops, but it would also enhance the rebels'
bid for wider international recognition of their newly formed
government-in-exile. Some mujahedin leaders confidently predicted
that the city would fall within a week.

    The rebels quickly shut down the airport and overran a
government garrison at Samarkhel, south of Jalalabad. But their
frontal attacks on the city were repulsed. The fighting now
consists mostly of duels between government artillery and rebel
rockets that have led only to horrendous civilian casualties.

    Mustering his defenses from Kabul, Najibullah, a former head
of the Afghan secret police who in 1986 succeeded another Soviet
puppet, Babrak Karmal, has proved to be surprisingly resourceful.
He has concentrated his formerly scattered troops in strategically
important towns where they could dig in and count on some support
from the urban middle class. He has played on the war weariness of
the Afghan people with a series of peace-and-prosperity
initiatives. "Najibullah is well organized and intelligent," one
of the few diplomats still in Kabul told TIME's Paul Hofheinz,
"which is more than you can say for the opposition."

    Perhaps his most effective tactic, however, is to paint the
mujahedin as pawns of a foreign power. Afghans abhor foreign
invaders, and now that the Soviet army has gone, Najibullah has
begun harping on how much the rebels are run by Pakistan and the
U.S. His case has been helped by recent news accounts that
Pakistani Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto had ordered Lieut. General
Hamid Gul, head of Pakistan's military intelligence organization
(ISI) to launch the bloody Jalalabad assault. Gul and the ISI are
unmistakably doing their best to direct the mujahedin operations,
but it seems likely that he told Bhutto of the impending attack
rather than the reverse. Although the mujahedin cause remains
popular, Pakistan's role in the rebel campaign, whether as arms
supplier or back-door manager, has turned off some Afghans.

    Because the U.S. has largely operated through the ISI, it is
seen as endorsing Pakistan's vision of a friendly Islamic regime
in Kabul. The rebel leader who most closely fills that bill is
Hekmatyar, head of the best-disciplined guerrilla organization,
Hezb-e-Islami (Islamic Party). Some Western experts are
uncomfortable with Hekmatyar's plan to turn Afghanistan into a
Muslim state governed by shari`a (Islamic law), which could take
an anti-American course. Should Washington be supporting someone
with the potential to be a U.S. enemy? Defenders say Hekmatyar,
despite his Islamic zeal, is also a pragmatist. But abetting
someone with a reputation for ruthlessness in pursuit of power
could be incompatible with Washington's goal of peace and
reconciliation.

    What seemed like an easy victory for U.S. policy now appears
to call for a more carefully calibrated approach. In February,
while Moscow's troop pullout was in progress, Soviet leader Mikhail
Gorbachev was looking to salvage some political face. He wrote to
President Bush asking for U.S. help in setting up an international
conference to end the fighting and create a broad-based coalition
government that would include the Kabul Communists. Confident that
the rebels' star was in the ascendant, the White House refused the
request. But disappointment over the guerrillas' military failure
has led policymakers to debate the wisdom of eyes-closed support
to the mujahedin. For now, though, the U.S. has apparently decided
to stand firm. "In a nutshell," said one adviser, "we still think
our guys can win, and there is no reason for them, or us on their
behalf, to sue for peace."

    The mujahedin would almost certainly refuse a power-sharing
deal anyway. The official rebel position is that Najibullah can
have an amnesty but his surrender of power is a precondition to
peace talks. In their view, he is the enemy, and Afghans have
little inclination to forgive foes. "How can you expect the people
to forget the blood loss of families, the destruction of entire
villages?" asks a guerrilla leader in Peshawar. "How can you expect
them to give up that feeling and say, `Fine, let's sit down and
talk'? It is like asking the Jews to pardon the Nazis and enter a
government with them."