With Iraq losing steam, the latest U.S. “invasion of choice” is Afghanistan, a remote, dejected area consisting of a series of valleys inserted into clumps of ungodly high mountains sitting astride the route over which men yearning for the limber dancing girls and spicy food of India have passed for millenniums.
It is occupied by a collection of clans and tribes in varying states of health and behavior, e.g., Afridi, Wazir, Parthian, Saka, all of which suffer from the ignorance, poverty, hatred, fear and superstition common to hill dwellers. Adding to that grab bag of miseries, the admonitions of a camel trader named Mohammed snaked through those valleys centuries ago, convincing people that 72 virgins were well worth pressing an unwashed head to the ground five times a day for the rest of their lives. Consequently, science, reason – or simple humanity – have remained buried under a glacier of clan loyalty, medieval laws and goat feces.
The history of the area is simple and quickly scanned. The first notable to show an interest in the place was Darius I of Persia (next-door Iran), who more or less casually absorbed it into his empire. Then came a succession of transitory rulers, the best known being Alexander the Great. Not caring for the long winters, he stayed only long enough to declare himself in charge, scarf up a few playmates for his troops (he preferred beardless boys himself ) enjoy a spoon or two of their poppy paste, and stamp his profile on a few pieces of local gold. Then he left the residents to their goats, smoky fires, body lice and odd sex habits – and marched on to mother India.
The most effective foreign invader in modern times was John Bull, who desired to protect his India honey pot from Russia. For many years, the Khyber Pass was celebrated in song and
verse as a backdrop for the “Great Game” – a hostile pas de deux between Russia and Great Britain. Other than two bloody wars to subdue the recalcitrant natives, the British century-plus
adventure mainly profited the second and third sons of British aristocracy with fine horses,hookahs and the affections of malleable waifs like Kipling’s Kim.
The English experience has some similarity to our adventure today. They used mercenary troops (sort of a 19th-century Halliburton and Blackwater operation), stamped native huts into rubble with newly developed weapons and they installed puppets to collect property taxes. But once the British Raj in India dissolved, they marched out in quick step, leaving that great ball of goat dung to its own devices – allowing Pakistan to claim a few Afghan mountains as they partitioned India.
For baker’s dozens of years the natives were left to their own cruelties: the cry of the muezzin was heard in the land, sandal makers became affluent, rifles replaced swords, burkas were decreed, women were relegated to their status in the shadows. Then the Soviet Union decided – for reasons, much like those of the U.S. today, i.e., casuistic – to make bad upon that suffering collection of goats and poppy plants. With the threat of communism casting a cloud over U.S. policy makers (plus America’s penchant for sticking its nose into other people’s business), the country got involved there for the first time, flooding the natives with CIA state-of-the-art weapons to shoot down the Soviet invaders. After about 10 years, with no end in sight, the Soviets found the good sense to withdraw to their vodka and balalaikas.
Afghanistan promptly resumed its penchant for tribal and religious war. The two main protagonists were the Mujahideen (native warriors who delight in nothing more than mayhem) and the Taliban, also native warriors indistinguishable from their cousins except for touting a demented version of Islam. Of the two, the U.S. officially targets the Taliban, although there is really little difference. Sometimes one is the other. Mainly, the United States and its reluctant NATO satraps kill Afghanis who wear headdresses.
Since the country never really ruled itself at any time in the few thousand years people that have been born and died there, any true concept of self-government is as foreign to Afghan natives as is a digital camera to a Ubangi. The national borders, for example, were never delineated until Britain and Russia jointly settled the matter for them during the “Great Game.” Invaders have always opted to rule behind a local figure head (the U.S. choice is a gentleman who speaks good English and wears a cape and foolish hats when he visits the White House).
Despite a managed election or two, history (and common sense) tell us that he (and we) will last only as long as our Humvees, Blackhawks and CIA drones control the roads. We are likely to be as successful and lasting as were the Persian chariots, Greek phalanxes, British Lancers or Soviet attack bombers.
The U.S. is applying for the same type of museum niche that Afghanistan has provided conquerors from Darius to Putin.
Rodney Quinn, who lives in Gorham, is a former Maine secretary of state. He can be reached at rquinn@maine.rr.com.
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