The AP report:

Pakistan’s defense minister said Tuesday that the country should reopen its Afghan border crossings to NATO troop supplies after negotiating a better deal with the coalition.

Pakistan closed the crossings over two months ago in response to American airstrikes that accidentally killed 24 Pakistani soldiers at two Afghan border posts. The closure has forced the United States to spend six times as much money to send supplies to Afghanistan through alternative routes.

You can frame this two ways:

• The U.S. is spending an exorbitant sum to send supplies through the NDN (read: Uzbekistan), so therefore everything is a failure and the silence will fall; or
• The expansion of the NDN (read: Uzbekistan) has created sufficient political space and pressure on Pakistan that they’re finally willing to climb down and play ball on transit routs and other issues.

Of course, both frames are true, at least to a degree. In the current status quo it’s unlikely Pakistan will agree to much more than allowing the transit routes to reopen (not coincidentally further enriching the Pakistani military-run trucking mafia along the way), just as it’s unlikely paying even $87 million more per month for transit costs through Central Asia will bankrupt the U.S.

From the U.S. government’s perspective, however, they’re now getting movement out of Islamabad, and that’s really what they want. Mission accomplished, then?

I wrote a piece for The Atlantic about why Pakistan’s boycott has turned an already iffy conference at Bonn into a complete farce:

But the Bonn II conference has met with significant hurdles. Besides Pakistan, Afghanistan’s largest neighbor, no one seems to know if Afghanistan’s other major neighbor, Iran, will participate (I spoke with officials in the State Department, who would neither confirm nor deny Iran’s attendance). U.S. Ambassador Ryan Crocker has told the Taliban they are not welcome to participate either, though German representatives have expressed interest in hosting some Taliban representatives. And Uzbekistan, which the U.S. is counting on as a transit corridor for its withdrawal plans, has been coy about its participation in any international conferences.

So a conference about the future of Afghanistan that is meant to leave a lasting, workable regional framework in place to manage the many diplomatic, economic, and security consequences of an American withdrawal might not include four of the most important participants: Pakistan, Iran, Uzbekistan, or the Taliban. And yet, the other 90 countries that participate hope to accomplish something.

Not exactly earth-shattering, but it needs to be said.

This is a guest post by Eric Auner, a Policy Analyst at the American Security Project. He tweets at @eauner.

***

Jeffrey Goldberg and Marc Ambinder’s latest article properly focuses on nuclear dangers emanating from Pakistan. Their critiques of Pakistani behavior are powerful and convincing. The article does not, however, acknowledge the ways in which Pakistani nuclear policies mirror those of other nuclear-armed states.

Pakistan is in a difficult spot, both politically and geographically. It faces multiple insurgencies at home, it is bordered by an unstable Middle East and a rising India, and the country’s economy and political system consistently fail to deliver results for most Pakistanis.

The Pakistani government’s behavior has exacerbated these problems. Civilian leaders are corrupt and ineffectual, which has tended to strengthen the political dominance of an overly ambitious military. The country has started numerous unsuccessful wars with India. It has used militant and terrorist groups to bloody its stronger rival and maintain influence in Afghanistan. Numerous terrorist attacks, including the 2008 attacks on Mumbai, have resulted from this policy.

Pakistan has also developed a nuclear arsenal, which now consists of over 100 weapons by some estimates. The country developed nuclear weapons in response to the Indian nuclear program. India conducted a “peaceful nuclear explosion” in 1974 and then conducted a series of nuclear tests in 1998 after decades of steady progress towards a nuclear weapons capability. Pakistan responded with its own nuclear tests in 1998, announcing itself as a nuclear weapons power.

Many observers, including Goldberg and Ambinder, are concerned that Pakistan is unwilling or unable to keep its nuclear weapons safe from terrorist groups.

Below I identify several of the arguments used in Goldberg and Ambinder’s article and elsewhere to criticize Pakistani behavior in the nuclear realm. I will argue that Pakistan’s actions are in many ways broadly similar to those taken by other nuclear weapon powers.

This exercise is not intended to excuse or validate Pakistan’s actions, especially the use of terrorist groups as a foreign policy tool. Nor do I suggest that the history of the Pakistani nuclear program exactly resembles those of other countries. Rather, I propose that a more thorough understanding of Pakistani nuclear motivations will result in a more thoughtful and effective American response to the challenges posed by Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal.

Pakistan is not transparent about its nuclear arsenal

Goldberg and Ambinder highlight Pakistani nuclear opacity (emphasis added):

Some American intelligence experts question Pakistan’s nuclear vigilance. Thomas Fingar, a former chairman of the National Intelligence Council and deputy director of national intelligence under President George W. Bush, said it is logical that any nuclear-weapons state would budget the resources necessary to protect its arsenal—but that “we do not know that this is the case in Pakistan.” The key concern, Fingar says, is that “we do not know if what the military has done is adequate to protect the weapons from insider threats, or if key military units have been penetrated by extremists. We hope the weapons are safe, but we may be whistling past the graveyard.”

It would enhance international stability (and calm American fears) if Pakistan provided more information about its nuclear plans. Unfortunately, no country, including the United States, is fully transparent in this regard. Nuclear weapons locations, safety procedures, and targeting plans will always be closely guarded secrets.

Pakistan is expanding its nuclear arsenal and building new kinds of weapons

Western nuclear experts have feared that Pakistan is building small, “tactical” nuclear weapons for quick deployment on the battlefield.

There is a long-running debate about how many nuclear weapons a given country “needs” to protect itself. Nuclear-armed countries have tended to err on the side of building a large number of weapons in order to deter rivals and hedge against a first strike against their nuclear forces.

The United States possessed over 20,000 nuclear weapons with various explosive yields at the height of the Cold War and retains over 5,000 today. The substantial reductions of the last two decades have come in the context of relative international stability and the disappearance of America’s main strategic threat.

For Pakistan, the strategic threat from India is growing as the country gains more political and economic clout and continues a robust military modernization campaign.

Seen in this context, the Pakistani decision to invest its scarce resources in nuclear warheads is regrettable and destabilizing, but is hardly without historical precedent.

Pakistan disperses its nuclear forces, making them more difficult to protect and account for

General Kidwai promised that he would redouble the [Strategic Plans Division’s (SPD)] efforts to keep his country’s weapons far from the prying eyes, and long arms, of the Americans, and so he did: according to multiple sources in Pakistan, he ordered an increase in the tempo of the dispersal of nuclear-weapons components and other sensitive materials. One method the SPD uses to ensure the safety of its nuclear weapons is to move them among the 15 or more facilities that handle them. Nuclear weapons must go to the shop for occasional maintenance, and so they must be moved to suitably equipped facilities, but Pakistan is also said to move them about the country in an attempt to keep American and Indian intelligence agencies guessing about their locations.

All countries with nuclear weapons have feared that foreign powers could disable their nuclear weapons on the ground to prevent them from being used. The established nuclear powers use nuclear-armed submarines precisely because they are almost impossible to find. Pakistan lacks the sophistication to deploy a submarine with nuclear missiles and its land-based facilities are visible to foreign surveillance.

The article alleges that Pakistan transports complete nuclear weapons on public roads in unmarked vans (Pakistan denies this). This is highly dangerous and irresponsible if true. Nevertheless, the general practice of dispersing nuclear forces is broadly consistent with the behavior of other nuclear powers.

Pakistan reserves the right to use nuclear weapons first in a conflict and may use them on the battlefield

India, in contrast, has been more transparent about its nuclear posture; unlike Pakistan, it has pledged not to use nuclear weapons first—only in response.

During the Cold War, NATO feared a Soviet invasion of Europe. This led the United States to threaten nuclear retaliation against a conventional Soviet attack and to station tactical nuclear weapons in several European countries. A number of these weapons remain in Europe today. The United States still reserves the right to use nuclear weapons first in some circumstances. Israel developed its nuclear arsenal to protect itself against invasion by its neighbors, none of which have nuclear weapons.

There is a powerful argument to be made that all nuclear-armed countries should declare a “no first use” policy and renounce nuclear weapons as a war fighting tool, retaining them as a pure deterrent. Few countries have done so. Pakistan is sadly typical in this regard.

Conclusion

Goldberg and Ambinder are correct that “keeping Pakistan’s nuclear arsenal secure and holstered” is “the most important goal” for American policy towards the country. A policy centered on this goal will need to find new ways to address Pakistani feelings of insecurity and nuclear vulnerability. Policies that build stability between India and Pakistan are a necessary precondition for progress on this front.

Pakistan’s nuclear policy presents unique challenges even as it adheres to historical patterns. American policy will benefit from acknowledging them.

There remains a lot of pushback against the idea that the U.S.’s decision to re-engage with the Karimov regime in Uzbekistan represents a least-bad option for the region. Writing a guestpost at my friend Steve LeVine’s blog, Russell Zanca argues:

Like-minded thinkers see Uzbek military forces as competent and trustworthy military partners. Furthermore, Foust himself asserts that there are times when cooperation between U.S. military forces and even those of authoritarian states, such as Hosni Mubarak’s Egypt, lead to a softening of how military and police forces handle domestic disturbances.

I am wondering if this was manifest in how Egyptian police recently dealt with Coptic protesters in Cairo. Those who think similarly must know that U.S. and Uzbek military forces have been working together since the mid-1990s, and yet in 2005 Uzbek military units had no compunction about killing hundreds of their countrymen in the city of Andijan. If these examples show that U.S. engagement improves the conduct of the armed forces of dictatorships, I suppose I simply don’t grasp how awful these armed forces might behave without our assistance and cooperation.

This is misreading my argument, which was that Security Assistance can lead to increased professionalism (not that it always does), and that increased professionalism would be good for Uzbekistan. In fact, former political prisoner Sanjar Umarov has argued that quite explicitly: that some monitoring and professionalization would actually substantially reduce the amount of abuse in the Uzbek system. (For the record, despite the recent incident with the Copts, the U.S.-trained professionalism of the Egytpian Army is widely credited with allowing the revolution that toppled Mubarak to proceed with relatively little violence.)

Furthermore, it was not quite “Uzbek military units” that opened fire on the protesters in Andjon. According to an OSCE survey of refugees, it was a mixture of Interior Ministry forces and the police, and some military vehicles, that were identified firing into the crowd. This is not a defense of the massacre, but it is important when using it as an argument that the details are correct. The OSCE was running a police mentorship program at the time; while it has serious problems, no one blames the OSCE for the behavior of the Uzbek police (and there is some evidence that better training has led to marginal improvements, though nothing significant). As Cornelius Graubner argued quite well, “programs must contain meaningful human rights and good governance components, not just technical innovation.” I couldn’t agree more.

Which is probably why Secretary Clinton and her staff have been up front that they also will be pushing for human rights and good governance issues as a part of the new engagement policy. I share Nathan’s skepticism that this will result in anything other than marginal improvements. But marginal improvements are better than zero improvements, which has been the result of the last six years of isolation, protest, and hectoring-from-afar (as well as the cotton boycott).

The big problem I see with the opposition to engagement is that it is focused entirely on Uzbekistan, with almost no regard for the broader political and regional context. The State Department is pushing this engagement so that the U.S. can withdraw from Afghanistan without empowering the international terrorists who run Pakistan’s military and intelligence services. The implicit argument that denying the ISI the ability to launder U.S. money and equipment to launch terrorist attacks inside Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India, is a bad thing because it won’t change the plight of Uzbeks is badly shortsighted.

The human rights argument about what to do in Uzbekistan are, at best, a sideshow. Ending the military subsidies to Pakistan and shifting the military’s supply chain to Uzbekistan is a massive net-gain for the entire region. Literally everyone, including Uzbeks, will benefit by starving the Pakistani beast. Moreover, it will make the war in Afghanistan more likely to end on a less-bad note, since the continuing dissolution of the U.S.’s relationship with Pakistan won’t necessarily prompt a catastrophic, sudden withdrawal.

Critics like Russell Zanca, or ICG’s Andrew Stroehlein, do not place their arguments in the context of the war in Afghanistan, which is the context the U.S. government is using. They just say engagement is bad because it won’t really help Uzbeks. They’re right about the latter part. But in the real world, where you cannot just cross your arms and pout that you don’t like your choices and wish for something better, you have to make choices. Engagement with Uzbekistan, and disengagement from Pakistan, will do the least amount of harm, which is all we can hope for at this point. It is the only real option U.S. policymakers have left.

A special guest post by C. Christine Fair

On Monday, August 1, the New Yorker ran a piece by Nicholas Schmidle, a young freelance journalist, which proffered a breathtakingly detailed account of the Bin Laden Take-down in May of 2011.  I have known Schmidle since the summer of 2006, when we met at my office at the United States Institute of Peace. He explained that he had a fellowship from the Institute of Current World Affairs that would allow him to live in Pakistan and write about his experiences for two years.

Mr. Schmidle had one serious problem: he was not an accredited journalist, which meant the Pakistani government was disinclined to give him a journalism visa. He sought my advice. I explained to him that visa issues are not my bailiwick but I outlined some of the key issues he could consider if and when he sets out upon his newfound adventure. Though he didn’t know much about Pakistan, Mr. Schmidle struck me as a fast study.

In the end, Dr. Shireen Mazari (an outspoken, anti-American polemicist) agreed to host Mr. Schmidle at the think-tank she ran at the time. However, it was a bargain with the devil: he still was not a journalist and he got his visa at the behest of a dubious shill for Pakistan’s intelligence agency.

Over the next few years, I watched Mr. Schmidle’s reporting. He had an eye for the key issues and he covered many important stories that others overlooked. I met him episodically in Islamabad when I came to Pakistan. In January 2008, Mr. Schmidle published a piece in the New York Times Magazine called the “Next-Gen Taliban.” In that article, he ventured into Quetta to attend an opening ceremony for the campaign office of the Jamiat Ulema-e-Islam (JUI), which he described in anodyne terms as a “a hard-line Islamist party.”

Mr. Schmidle wrote that the men in attendance mostly spoke Pashto but “knowing Urdu, I could understand enough [of their Pashto] to realize that they weren’t rehashing the typical J.U.I. rhetoric.” That made the rest of the article immediately suspect.  I knew Mr. Schmidle, and knew that his language skills in Urdu were functional at best and, even if he had superb Urdu skills (and he did not), this would not render Pashto comprehensible in the slightest. (It is not an Indo-Aryan language like Urdu and therefore has a grammar and syntax that is starkly different from Urdu.) While one may recognize some Urdu words, without grammar and syntax the content of the discussion would have been opaque to Mr. Schmidle. Indeed, Pakistanis who have spent their entire life in the country speaking Urdu cannot understand Pashto and would never make the absurd claim to do so.  How could Mr. Schmidle understand, must less interpret, what was going on without knowledge of Pashto or a translator? It seemed to me that things were not as they were reported.

I had a similar feeling this week when I began perusing Mr. Schmidle’s account of the Bin Laden raid.  The account was deeply detailed. He described how the commander of the team, whom he called James “sat on the floor, squeezed among ten other SEALs, Ahmed [the translator], and Cairo [the malimois]. (The names of all the covert operators mentioned in this story have been changed.) James, a broad-chested man in his late thirties, does not have the lithe swimmer’s frame that one might expect of a SEAL—he is built more like a discus thrower.”

Schmidle detailed “James’” apparel and personal effects:   he was sporting “a shirt and trousers in Desert Digital Camouflage, [carrying] a silenced Sig Sauer P226 pistol, along with extra ammunition; a CamelBak, for hydration; and gel shots, for endurance. He held a short-barrel, silenced M4 rifle.”  He even inventoried the contents of this fellow’s pockets.

Mr. Schmidle then recalls, in riveting detail, the harrowing movements of the helicopters and how “the interior of the Black Hawks rustled alive with the metallic cough of rounds being chambered.” When the first helicopter encountered problems, Schmidle exposits how the pilot reoptimized his plans and aimed for “for an animal pen in the western section of the compound.” He next tells his readers how the SEALs in the ill-fated bird “braced themselves as the tail rotor swung around, scraping the security wall. The pilot jammed the nose forward to drive it into the dirt and prevent his aircraft from rolling onto its side. Cows, chickens, and rabbits scurried.”

He even describes how the translator Ahmed hollered in Pashto at the locals that a security operation was ongoing to allay their suspicions about the nature of the cacophony in the cantonment town. (This detail caught my eye as the majority of persons in Abbottabad, where the raid took place, speak Hindko rather than Pashto.) He account is replete with quotes and other minute details obtained from persons seemingly involved directly in the assault and presumably speaking to him in person.

The article was in fact so detailed that it left the unmistakable impression that Mr. Schmidle had interviewed at least a few of the SEALs involved in the raid. During an NPR interview, Steve Inskeep explains that indeed Schmidle had spent time with the SEALs who were on the mission to get Bin Laden. NPR subsequently issued a correction for reasons noted below.

If not Navy SEALS, then perhaps he met some Navy Otters?

All of this makes for a gripping read. Too gripping I thought to myself.  As it turned out, there is one very serious problem with Mr. Schmidle’s account: Schmidle never met any of the SEALs involved, as reported (with great tact and restraint) by Paul Farhi on August 3.

Farhi reached the same conclusion as I had: “a casual reader of the article wouldn’t know that [he had not interviewed the SEALS]; neither the article nor an editor’s note describes the sourcing for parts of the story. Schmidle, in fact, piles up so many details about some of the men, such as their thoughts at various times, that the article leaves a strong impression that he spoke with them directly.”

Surely a journalist or an editor with a commitment to informing—rather than amusing—a public would understand that disclosing this simple fact is critical to allowing readers to determine how much credibility they should put into this account.  In the absence of such disclosure, we are left asking whether this was second or third-hand information? Who are the people that he spoke to and how credible is their information?

Such an egregious exercise of incaution raises a number of questions about the entire report.

Schmidle has demurred from tackling this serious issue of credibility, integrity and veracity directly.  During a “live chat” with Mr. Schmidle on the New Yorker’s website yesterday, several persons including myself tried to ask Mr.Schmidle to explain this egregious oversight.  (I posed the question four times throughout the course of the “live chat.” The moderator did not post a single one. (Earlier in the day, Schmidle and I exchanged emails wherein I expressed my dismay at his reportage.)

Many of us were following this in real time via twitter. I was not alone: others—including other journalists—tried to ask other tough questions but the moderator did not post them either. I also tried to post a comment to this effect along with other readers’ comments. That comment has not yet been posted.

Finally, after a volley of fatuous queries to which Schmidle responded with a peculiar degree of detail, the moderator finally let one person raise the issue that he neither met any of the SEALS involved nor indicated as much in his report.

Unfortunately for the credibility of this exercise, this person was Erin Simpson—a friend of Mr. Schmidle.  Ms. Simpson had earlier defended him during a twitter exchange with me wherein she responded to my vexed queries that “he’s a good friend.” She further intimated that someone involved in the operation may have spoken to him because he is a “GO’s kid.” The latter point references the fact that his father,  Marine Corps Lt. Gen. Robert E. Schmidle Jr., is the deputy commander of the U.S. Cyber Command.

Schmidle answers Ms. Simpson in a familiar voice: “Hi Erin. Good question. I’ll just say that the 23 SEALs on the mission that evening were not the only ones who were listening to their radio communications.”

The response was risible and hardly addressed how he could have acquired such details of the operation through such means.

That the moderator passed on only softball questions and that this one question was posed by a “close friend,” raises more questions than the “live chat” could have answered.

What’s at Stake?

One may ask at first blush why a feel-good story about the Bin Laden raid is problematic or even merits sustained critique. From an American point of view, the story reads like the film script Schmidle may well aspire to write. It confirms all that we wanted to know about the raid and the bravado of our SEALS.  The shooter, who finally killed Bin Laden, even managed to mutter “For God and Country” in the femtoseconds that his synapses took to pull the trigger, according to Schmidle.

However, there are implications that go well beyond Mr. Schmidle’s limits of journalism integrity and his own personal aggrandizement and professional aspirations.

First, many Muslims across the world fundamentally doubt the events of the Bin Laden raid. Some believe Bin Laden is still alive. Others believe he died long ago. Others believe that the events of May 2 were staged to allow the Obama administration to make an exit from Afghanistan.  As Mr. Schmidle’s is the first (and so far only) account of the drama, these problems cast a pale of doubt upon the events that transpired that evening.

Second is the simple fact of Mr. Schmidle parentage. His father, as noted above, is the deputy commander of the U.S. Cyber Command.  Given the conspiratorial propensities of many within and beyond the Muslim world, Schmidle’s ties to this organization by virtue of his father would recast any serious inaccuracy in his report as a U.S. military psychological operation to deliberately misinform the world about the operation.

The reasons for this are at least two-fold. First is the charge of U.S. Cyber Command itself, which in it the lexicon of the U.S. Department of Defense is “pulling together existing cyberspace resources, creating synergy that does not currently exist and synchronizing war-fighting effects to defend the information security environment.” While the organization appears dedicated to protecting cyber infrastructure, others may interpret its role as using cyberspace to spread disinformation.  Second, cynics may justifiably wonder what influence if any his father had in the article. Schmidle explains this to Farhi “’He knew I was working on it,’ the younger Schmidle says, ‘but we both decided it was best not to discuss it in advance. We wanted to maintain distinct lines of operation.’” I have no reason to not believe this. However, given that questions that now hover about his report will other readers be so inclined?

Finally, whether or not the shooter actually said “For God and For Country” is another important question that affects the way in which the United States and is citizenry are seen across the world. The conflict with Bin Laden has been waged in lamentably civilizational terms focusing upon the clash of Islam and the presumably non-Islamic west.  Since 9/11, countries with Muslim minorities have been gripped by Islamophobia with some states outlying headscarves and minarets and others seeking to restrict the erection of new mosques. Anti-immigration concerns in Europe are thinly disguised efforts to deter future Muslims from migrating.  Success in the war of terrorism seems to be equated with success in turning back the spread of Islam. Several states in the United States have even introduced ludicrous and shameful bills to outlaw Sharia.

How would a proclamation that Bin Laden was killed “for God and for country” be read in a place like Pakistan where the war on terror has been largely seen as a war on Islam and Muslims? If this was in fact uttered, as an American, I am saddened that eliminating the world’s most notorious killer was done “for God” first and country second. If it wasn’t uttered, such a gratuitous detail hardly helps the United States make its case that it opposes terrorists not Muslims.

A Story Too Good to Check?

Whether Americans and our allies like it or not, Pakistan and Pakistan’s populations are critical to U.S. interests.  This will be true for the foreseeable future.  Journalists have an important function: informing our publics.  Journalists’ reportage shapes how Americans see their country abroad and understand the countries with which the United States engages. It shapes our support for war, for foreign aid, for particular bilateral relations. The U.S. experience with the Iraq war illustrates the extreme limits of how a supine and incompetent press became the vehicle to mobilize an angry public for an ill-conceived and unjustifiable war of choice.  The United States will long pay the price for strategic error.

Journalists have an equally important, if less appreciated, role in shaping how the outside world sees us. With the internet, the entire world reads our press, watches our television and hears our radio broadcasts.  Media hype and hysteria, xenophobia, Islamophobia and more quotidian issues of inaccuracy and incaution with handling sensitive pieces of information are for the whole world to see and to judge us.

With stakes this high, should not the standards of journalistic integrity be even higher? I should think yes. The New Yorker should immediately right this wrong by publishing an editor’s note disclosing the simple fact that he never interviewed the SEALS in involved in the raid.

C. Christine Fair is an assistant professor at Georgetown University and the author of Cuisines of the Axis of Evil and Other Irritating States.

Bruceee is at it again, but this time he is discussing the Bahrain-Pakistan link that was quite obvious from the get go. It is not this obvious point, about the recruitment of Pakistani soldiers by the Bahrain government that is revealing, but it is his information concerning Baluchistan and their hungry anti-shia identity, ready to suppress them wherever they are because of their fanatic tendencies that is quite alarming.

I am not sure what is with National Interest but it seems to becoming a trend that they have no idea how to report on Baluchistan. Most of their information is usually wrong as you can see from a  previous criticism that i posted here. Riedel in my opinion probably does not know the difference between Pakhtoon’s and Balochi and that there are Pakhtoon’s who live in Baluchistan, and hence to just state the term ‘Baluchi soldiers’ is not only very vague but does not really make sense. Who are these Baluchis, are they Pakhtoons who reside in Baluchistan or Baluchis?

Riedel is known for his expertise on the Middle East and not on Pakistan or South Asia, he should stick to it.

Here is Riedel’s article. Be aware your head may blow off.

In 2008, I came across the story of some potato farmers in Khost province. They had approached their local U.S. military commander to complain about an issue they were having. It was in January or February, and all the border crossings between Afghanistan and Pakistan were still closed off because of the murder of Benazir Bhutto.

After hearing them complain about how they couldn’t make any money selling potatoes, the local U.S. military commander asked them if they needed seed. “No, that’s not the problem,” one said back. “We have no problem growing the potatoes. But we cannot sell them.”

“Well,” the local U.S. military commander responded, clearly puzzled. “What if we paved you a road to the nearest market? Would that help you sell your potatoes?”

“No,” the Afghan farmer said back. “We don’t need any more roads. We don’t sell much to the local markets. Most of our customers are in Waziristan. We can’t get our potatoes to the main bazaar to sell them with these closures.”

The local U.S. military commander had an idea. “Well, can’t you sell them in Khost?”

“No, the farmer said back, clearly frustrated. “This waiting has rotten one crop of potatoes already. We will starve if we cannot move our potatoes to the bazaar and sell them.”

“I wish I could help you,” the local U.S. military commander responded, clearly concerned. “But I do not have the authority to re-open the border. That is a decision the governments in Kabul and Islamabad must make.”

The Afghan farmers gathered their potatoes they had brought as evidence they grow quality food and left, looking dejected.

This story is adapted from a real situation I encountered while still working with the Human Terrain System. The HTT member who recorded this situation was asking us researchers if there was any way to track the economic effects of border closures, or how one could go about asking Kabul and Islamabad to open them so local businessmen don’t get harmed. We never were able to come up with a good answer—there are estimations of cost, but they’re not grounded in much data.

There has been very little research about the economic costs of expensive cross-border commerce and how the unresolved political issues between Afghanistan and Pakistan contribute to a moribund local economy. From anecdotal evidence, the effects can be severe, but that doesn’t mean they’re severe everywhere.

What we do know is the difficulties of transporting commercial goods into Pakistan is such a hassle it’s causing traders to publicly complain to the government:

Hundreds of trucks laden with dried and fresh fruits, herbals, carpets, precious and semi-precious stones have been stranded on both sides of the border due to technical problems in the recently-signed Afghanistan-Pakistan Transit Trade Agreement (APTTA), said Khan Jan Alakozay, the Afghanistan Chamber of Commerce and Industries chairman.

This is a major problem in helping Afghanistan to develop economically. It is not a problem of infrastructure: Even before the U.S. military’s ginormous paving campaign there was a lot of commerce between Afghanistan and Pakistan (in fact, many analysts argue that it was the Taliban’s informal alliance with the so-called “trucking mafia” of Quetta that enabled them to be so effective at mobilizing their forces and maintaining some control of the roads). This is not a problem of security, either: The trucks are not being destroyed or attacked, they are literally sitting at the border waiting to deliver their goods.

The biggest barriers to Afghanistan developing economically are political, institutional, and regulatory—not physical or security or investment. Yet, most of the U.S. government’s efforts to improve Afghanistan’s security focus on physical solutions (like expanding the airport in Kandahar to export things like fruit and cement), security solutions (like the Village Security Operations the special operations forces are so enamored with), or foreign direct investment (as the TFBSO is so focused on). They focus on the wrong solutions to the wrong problem.

The U.S. government is not very active in resolving the political issues plaguing Afghanistan’s government, or its relationships with Iran and Pakistan, two absolutely crucial prerequisites to it ever becoming a stable country again. We should not expect a particularly successful outcome so long as the politics of the region are relegated to secondary concerns, if they are concerns at all.

Registan.net blogger UmairJ is traveling through Swat. His pictures from the trip promise to be stunning, as one would expect from Northwestern Pakistan. Swat, as we all know here, is normally considered a tourist haven (especially for skiing in the winter).

Swat is also where Tantric Buddhism, which forms the foundation of Tibetan Buddhism, first emerged, and there used to be enormous Buddhas there, as big as the destroyed Buddhas at Bamiyan in Afghanistan, as well as temples, artifacts, history, stunning cave art, culture.

I say “used to be” because in 2007 the Pakistani Taliban occupied Swat and destroyed their own giant Buddha to mostly silence in the West. Even though Swat is now on the path of recovery — some of the resorts have re-opened, and things are in general pretty calm — we won’t know for a long time just how much we lost there in the last decade.

Stay tuned for more from Umair over the next week or so.

A nice view of the Attock on the way to KPK province (formerly known as NWFP). One of the most historical areas as most invasions into India travelled through these roads to Delhi. The Attock Fort was built primarily overlooking the Indus and Kabul river as a first line of defence against oncoming armies from Afghanistan and Central Asia.

Today the fort is used by Pakistani commando’s for special ops training and for holding high level prisoners.