A friend asked me about the significance of the new Iranian nuclear facility whose existence the US president revealed.  In light of this developing new story line in the soap opera known as Iran, I thought it might be worthwhile to elucidate how important this revelation is and why it matters.  The announcement of a hitherto unacknowledged nuclear facility in Iran is not good for the Islamic Republic and its supporters. Both domestically and internationally, it will provide a major shot in the arm for the opposition, not just to Iran’s suspected nuclear weapons programme, but to the Islamic Republic itself.  

Iran’s nuclear programme has always benefited from plausible deniability about its aim to weaponise its nuclear technology.  The existence of a facility that the Iranian government tried to keep secret casts suspicions on the government’s purported peaceful intent.  In early 2006, when I researched the Iranian nuclear facilities for a private company, the task was laughably simple in that the Iranian Atomic Energy Agency had a very nice website explaining what all the facilities were and provided as much information as various intelligence agencies had been able to come up with.  The devil was always in the details of access to and inspection of their nuclear facilities.  Because of the United State’s childish and inappropriate behaviour towards Iran since the 1978-79 revolution, Iran’s stances always seemed plausible on the grounds of reasonable suspicion.

The uprising that started in June of this year did much to eliminate plausible deniability about other areas in the Iranian polity.  Domestically, the major outcomes were the appearance of a vocal and broad-based coalition and the near total disaffection of the clergy with the state.  The internal discourse on Iran’s nuclear programme has had two important parameters.  One was that everyone agreed Iran had the right to nuclear energy and its own programme to develop it, but the second was that most everyone also agreed that weaponisation was bad.  This consensus on weaponisation came from a wide variety of political and moral perspectives but that the clergy was very vocal against it was very important.  None other than Khomeini himself railed against nuclear weapons.  My analysis had been that some people, probably the Revolutionary Guards, did indeed want to weaponise, and that someday it would lead to a standoff between conservatives and the clergy.  What I didn’t realise was how effectively the Islamic Republic had been able to marginalise the clergy.  This became apparent in the first week after the elections, when that most grand ayatollahs’ movements were circumscribed to a high degree, stopping just short of house arrest.  With only a few exceptions, almost all of the clergy sided with the opposition, morally casting out the Islamic Republic as un-Islamic in increasingly strong language.  The Islamic Republic had previously governed with a complimentary combination of legitimacy and a strong security state.  The outcome of the elections took away the legitimacy factor by alienating a broad spectrum of the population and the clerical establishment.  The loss of legitimacy has been noticeably effective in decreasing the regime’s scope of action.  It was forced to back down on accusations that the protests were incited by foreigners, chose to stop televising the trials of political detainees after they became a lightning rod for popular anti-government sentiment, and was deprived of the opportunity to use the annual Qods Day celebrations as a means to deflect attention to problems abroad.  The fear of foreign intervention has always been a strong rallying force in Iranian politics and its apparent ineffectiveness underlines the government’s inability to stir such sentiments.  Meanwhile, the opposition has been taking the lead on numerous moral issues.  Coalitions of rich and poor, urban and rural, and pious and secular have thrived on the ensuing government abuses of brutality, political imprisonment, and so forth.  The effort to hide another nuclear facility will add to the domestic drumbeat of reasons to oppose the government.  The nuclear issue could change from defending the nation’s rights to betraying them.

Internationally, the question of further sanctions will likely shift from ‘whether’ to ‘how much.’  The Islamic Republic will face a choice between an unequivocal back-down or burning yet more bridges.  Having burnt so many domestic bridges for reconciliation, it is possible that Khamenei and company will continue on their current course and try to appear strong by holding firm and not compromising.  The choice of backing down is unlikely to win much sympathy from the opposition while standing firm is unlikely to attract many more supporters.  China and Russia will certainly have noticed how their perceived support for the Islamic Republic has won them repudiation from protesters who have been having a good time burning their flags and crying death unto them.  The announcement of a new nuclear facility could well give those nations the space to back down in their support whilst still saving face.  The internal Iranian opposition to weaponisation will also pull the Iranian citizenry into closer alignment with the longstanding American policy of halting Iranian nuclear ambitions with regard to weaponisation.

The main problem for opponents of the Islamic Republic, particularly the US, is that Israeli paranoia will appear to have been vindicated and hence an Israeli attack cannot be ruled out.  The longstanding problem with the Israeli attack option is that Turkey and Saudi Arabia block air routes to Iran on two sides and that the US, which controls Iraqi airspace, blocks the most direct path.  In a very belated realisation, Zbigniew Brzezinsky has surmised that this could very well require the US to shoot down Israeli jets or become an accessory to an attack on Iran.  The United States could make much of halting Israel politically, but the fact that certain people in the political establishment are just now coming around to the possibility that military force might be required is a tribute to American naïveté with regards to Israel.  In any event, Israel rattling its sabres and playing the role of the caged insane bear (we just don’t know what they’ll do) could be beneficial in rallying the support of the international community and the Iranian opposition to put maximum pressure on their government now, as an Israeli attack is possibly the last thing that could keep the Islamic Republic in power. 

The Qom nuclear facility weakens the Islamic Republic in three ways.  It strengthens the arguments of its international opponents, weakens the arguments of its allies (or gives them space to distance themselves), and adds another focal point for domestic political opposition, all while forcing the Iranian regime into a tighter corner.  Moreover, it brings the three groups of opinions into closer political alignment, increasing the probability of substantive pressure being placed on the regime and of that pressure achieving the desired outcome.

I’m looking forward to leaving Afghanistan.   I have about four weeks left; it's that odd period when change feels so close and yet seems so far away.  And in truth, I’m not leaving Afghanistan just yet so even the leave itself is another marker.  I’m just using five weeks of my vacation to accomplish other career-related objectives, after which I will remain for about two months in Kabul.  Four weeks does mark my leaving the North, though.

Living in the North has been a pleasant time.  There’s a small group of cool, friendly, and serious-minded people here.  Given that we have two proper restaurants in town, that means that activities are communal and include everyone at once.  Partying here consists of going out to eat, or somebody cooking dinner, and then going to someone’s compound to have a few more rounds.  It’s actually quite pleasant if one has already gotten the experience of Kabul and, like me, milked it for all it’s worth.

There are people who would love the simplicity and tranquility of all of this.  I am not one of those people.  I can love the people I’m hanging out with but I feel like I'm wasting my time if I’m not constantly meeting new people.  Small towns have always been difficult for me in this way.  As a hypersocial person who seeks and enjoys attention, I can’t help feeling the need for an ever bigger sandbox to play in.

I wonder what my successor will think of this place, having not experienced Kabul (she’s coming straight to Mazar) and having previously worked in much more cosmopolitan places such as the Occupied Territories.  It’s extremely odd to have your first job in Afghanistan be with nice, professional people, supervising a functional office, and for your role to be one of the few in the country that are clearly defined and hence, easy to explain.  Everyone I know has had to experience a lot of highly educational confusion and uncertainty as they became familiar with the nature and rhythm of the chaos.  Recently I gave some advice to a friend of a friend, who came to Kabul to work forhelp a local who, because of the culture gap so typical of this country, didn’t understand why she would want to go out on her own.  Bars, restaurants, and socializing are the most important parts of the Kabul experience—a lesson that I, even without having any such restrictions, took fully a year to realize.

My assertion that the most important goal while living in Kabul is networking and socializing never fails to raise eyebrows.  “Time should not be spent frivolously,” they might say, and “you didn’t come here to have fun.”  To which I stick out my tongue.  I most certainly did come here to have fun,  (I have an expansive notion of the concept, and spending time out with friends both helps people understand how their bullshit fits into the greater scheme of things and usefully demonstrates that their work is bullshit in the first place.  Partying also has the benefit of being a positive example of how life can be consistently fun and need not be spent behind closed doors with only family or those bound by duty rather than love.

My efforts now are focused on keeping up my morale, both on the job and off, until I go.  My ears are worn out from the banality of most of the conversations I hear.  Often I have pointed out that knowing the language deadens one’s enthusiasm for this country.  You get to hear impassioned and repetitive discussions on whether the best peaches are from Khenjan or Doushi, you get to hear people relentlessly contradict themselves, and you spend your time keeping your mouth shut, knowing that, through a long chain of consequence and certain existential realities, nothing is going to really get better here until they let their wife sit at the dinner table with the guests.

The election didn’t make me feel better, either.  Indeed, in numerous speeches, posters, and billboards, Karzai rubbed in his disdain for his subjects and contempt for the process of state building.  If Karzai had shown that he cared enough to hack the election properly or expanded the state’s power enough to do so, I might have been impressed.  Instead it seems that a great deal, if not most, of the election fraud was committed by “well-meaning,” would-be cronies hoping for a pat on the back from the re-elected president.  The civic machinery for even the most menial enterprise, let alone running an election, was not in place and that is no surprise, but the state hasn’t shown much enthusiasm for building it.

The gap between the skills necessary to run the most basic institutions and those which exist is enormous.  Concurrent with that is the very limited perspective of the people, which is natural considering the lack of resources and opportunities.  It’s why people aren’t curious and why discussion doesn't move above the level of  peach quality.  Whilst en route to my friend’s house with a bowl of mast-o-mouseer (shallots and yogurt), I was engaged in a conversation with my driver about what a shallot is and how, yes, there are fruits and vegetables that he had not heard of.  The supreme irony of this is that the shallot is a very Afghan vegetable that the quirks of Afghan history have caused to be forgotten.  Ultimately, this is a long-term social learning process that can’t be answered effectively by a well-implemented local NGO project or a massive nationwide USAID endeavor.  The best use of all the aid money poured into Afghanistan has been the creation of a small cadre of people who can fill basic positions within most organizations.  This doesn’t yet extend much beyond administration manager, logistician, accountant, and so on, but maybe this generation’s children will gain the perspicuity to start asking the bigger questions and hence develop the critical thinking skills necessary to make a real difference. 

This probably all sounds extremely cynical but I think it’s simply realistic and sober.  I’m far from depressed about my time here and there are still a few more adventures and pontifications to write about.  The most important gains, or so I like to think, have been the immense experience and empowerment I’ve gained personally.  That includes all the great people I’ve met.  Wells dug or surveys completed just don’t matter as much.  It’s this deepened sense of what’s possible, impossible, and the art of the possible that I hope to use to improve the world I live in.

This article is a reprint of an abridged version of a similar post originally published on Worldfocus's website. 

One of my favorite pastimes of late has been talking to people about who they’re voting for and why. Politics is universal to human beings but thoughts about politics are heavily shaped and molded by cultural contexts. Whatever people’s education levels they get the concept of political participation and voting and I’ve found that they reject voting only insofar as they don’t think the vote will be respected. The big difference I encounter here is not defined by democratic values, rather it’s a difference of how people talk about politics, their narratives, so that the way many Afghans talk about their candidates seems surprising to somebody from the US, France, or Iran.

There is no such thing as a political vacuum if people are present, there are only places where the politics appears inscrutable to the uninitiated. Afghanistan with its multiplicity of figures in an ever-changing kaleidoscope of alliances and betrayals for no apparent ideological reason often seems like such a place. The reasons for the shifting currents are there, although outsiders don’t always properly appreciate them. People who told me they would vote against Karzai just because he was supported by former warlord Abdurrashid Dostum all of a sudden appeared teary-eye alongside the road to watch his convoy a few days later when he made his sudden return from Turkey. The cause was simple. Their logical analyses of the pluses and minuses of his rule had been replaced by their emotional attachment to a man who had brought relative stability to this party of the country when the rest was in chaos.

One day while driving to the gym my driver and I were looking at all the campaign posters and related activity in town, poking fun and sharing opinions. He didn’t have much definitive to say about any of the current contenders but instead went on at length about some strongman whom he particularly liked during the Soviet occupation. The next day he had a completely different story. Evidently my driver had to decided to throw his wait behind Karzai and the story changed dramatically. Suddenly it was Karzai who could do no wrong. ‘Karzai built everything in this country after the war [sic]; he’s honest, clean, and has personality integrity.’

The argument against Karzai is that he hasn’t done enough or doesn’t have enough of any of the above, but I didn’t see the point in arguing that. So I asked my driver how he had been convinced of this. He must have a conversation with his friends over qalyan (sheesha) or heard the argument from an akhund (priest), I thought. His response was ‘no that’s just the way things are.’

This is one story but it typifies many others that I’ve had. During a fast food break in Samangan a man sat across from me while I was eating my kabab and extolled the virtues of one or other previous regime that he particularly like by the same simple formulations; you could leave your door unlocked (no, they really believe it), there was no theft, so-and-so distributed swift and equitable justice. It annoys me as a Westerner because I feel it sets up unrealistic expectations of leaders and therefore just perpetuates the cycle of violence. For me not locking one’s door is a (negative) indicator of sanity rather than a sign of good governance. As a student of history though I know it is something more and that these precise formulations have been used for thousand of years. The only reason I don’t know personally them is because the fundamental social and moral restructuring of modernity happened where I grew up before I was born.

Narratives are the key linkage in the relationship of consciousness to reality. They help humans structure the world around them to create meaning. Sometimes narratives become so big and generally applicable that they are myths. In Afghanistan political power is often understood and explained in the form of myths about individuals rather than the specific issues they stand for. Instead of a person saying “I value this characteristic and therefore I will vote for X”, they instead tell a story whereby the characteristic is absolutely beyond question and X embodies it.

Afghanistan is a place where the distance between that old worldview and modern reality is perhaps one of the shortest. Myths will always be with us but in the pre-modern world they held a much greater grip on the human psyche and often became articles of faith in themselves. The relative lack of technology made the gap between cause and effect far wider and therefore gave myths’ explanations much greater power and perceived utility. The mythic narrative doesn’t seek to describe so much as prescribe, because since the myth has moral authority (because it is believed more deeply), it suggests both correct means and ends. New technology has reshaped the role of mythic narratives in much of the world but in places like Afghanistan the concomitant social change (i.e. individual choice and existential doubt) hasn’t yet had the chance to be incorporated into people’s self-understanding.

The power of myths in Afghanistan has allowed people to latch on to unhealthy worldviews that free of massive social stress seem clearly counterintuitive, like the Taliban’s ideology. But this need not be the case and it is important to understand the underlying processes at work. Conversely it may give them the cognitive space in which to reconstruct their identities as people in this region have done before in the face of sweeping social and political changes.