Afghanistan After America Andrew Quilty

This episode, I speak with Abdul Jamil, a 75-year-old member of the Afghan Local Police (ALP) originally from Marjah in Helmand province. 

It's a special and sobering episode, because the 33-year-old Helmandi journalist Aliyas Dayee, with whom I'd worked since 2016 and who assisted with this and the previous two episodes, is no longer with us. 

On November 12, less than a month after this interview was recorded, Dayee was leaving the provincial hospital in Helmand's capital Lashkar Gah with his brother after dropping their mother off for a routine visit when a bomb exploded beneath his car.  His brother and two other passers-by were injured and Dayee was killed.

He had been receiving threats from the Taliban as long as I’d known him. His bosses at Radio Free Europe / Radio Liberty (RFE/RL) had flown him to Kabul several times when the threats were deemed particularly serious. They had wanted to do the same in October, before he and I worked together on the interview that follows, but felt he couldn't. After the Taliban moved in on Lashkar Gah from the surrounding districts on October 11, a wave of residents from the same districts moved ahead of them to avoid the fighting. Dayee took ten families -- 50 or 60 people and an assortment of chickens -- into his modest home and didn’t want to leave his elderly mother, wife and their infant daughter Mehrabani.

And so, unlike previous episodes,  the interview that follows is from the original recording, conducted in a yard on October 18, surrounded by the men from Abdul Jamil’s ALP unit. It's Dayee's deep, husky voice; the same voice that told the stories of Helmand and it's people for more than a decade for RFE/RL you'll hear translating  for Jamil and I, with sounds from the frontline peppered throughout. 

On the day we spoke, October 18, Jamil was commanding a platoon-sized unit who'd occupied a residential compound in Bolan, a couple of kilometres west of Helmand's capital, Lashkar Gah.

The Taliban had pushed in on Lashkar Gah a week prior but hadn't gotten any further than the row of houses Jamil and his men, as well as units from the Afghan National Army and police were holding. 

Although the ALP are in the process of being wound down and absorbed into other branches of the security force, Jamil's unit, far from the area it was originally tasked with securing, had been moved from frontline to frontline in the months prior, more like commandos than the lowly paid and trained local, pro-government militia they are. 

Abdul Jamil had to think back decades to a time he could remember Afghanistan at peace and his outlook for the future was just as bleak.

The loss of Aliyas Dayee, too, darkens the horizon for those who knew, loved and listened to him. He was buried the same day he died in a cemetery not far from where our interview was conducted in Bolan. 

Chahr-i Anjir, where he grew up, and where his father was buried last year was out of the question; the Taliban controlled the area now. He  is survived by his wife and daughter. 

Rest in Peace Dayee.

This episode, the second from my recent trip to Lashkar Gah, the capital of Helmand, I speak with the most senior Afghan National Army (ANA) officer in the province, the commander of the Afghan National Army’s 215th Corps’,  Lt. Gen. Wali Mohammad...

On October 11, Taliban fighters in Helmand converged on the districts surrounding the provincial capital Lashkar Gah, capturing huge swathes of government-held territory in a matter of days and raising concern that the city would fall to the...

At only 28, Farahnaz Forotan has worked at three of Afghanistan’s largest television broadcasters since 2012, hosting flagship talk shows at two of them, including 1TV’s hugely popular weekly program, Kabul Debate, which she's headed since 2019.
Forotan is also the founder of My Red Line, an online advocacy campaign allowing Afghans to voice the rights they enjoy now and which they refuse to forfeit or negotiate on as peace negotiations proceed in Doha.
We began by talking about Forotan’s earliest years, during the late 1990s after the Taliban had taken control of Kabul and about the conflicts that arose in her family when she started working in the media, later on, in 2012, and how her family’s perception of her work changed since then. We also go into some of the problems she’s had working in the media industry itself, including about the time she volunteered to report from arguably the most dangerous district in the country. 
She tells me what annoys her about the way foreign reporters cover Afghanistan and about the lack of basic safety protections Afghan journalists have.
Forotan talks about My Red Line and how the desires of people in rural areas differ from those living in urban areas. She also goes into how she felt the U.N. agency that offered support tried to take undue ownership of the campaign.
Forotan tells me about how she sees the Taliban misusing Islam by rewriting the rules as it suits them, especially when it comes to issues like corporal and capital punishment.
I ask Forotan about the criticisms she receives on social media about being a member of the so-called Kabul elite and about the photo taken of her, in which she's without a headscarf, while interviewing a member of the Taliban’s negotiating team in Doha recently.

Farhad Darya's Salaam Afghanistan.

Dr. Yama Torabi is a Senior Research Associate and a political scientist. He holds two masters degrees, in Political Science and International Relations, and a PhD in International Relations. 
​In 2005, Torabi founded Integrity Watch Afghanistan, which, after completing his studies in France, he returned to Kabul to direct between 2009 and 14.
He was commissioner and rotating chair of Afghanistan’s Joint Independent Monitoring and Evaluation Committee (MEC) between 2012 and 17, and head of the government’s Special Anti-Corruption Secretariat (SACS) from 2017 until earlier this year.
We covered a lot of ground on a topic that has characterised both post-2001 administrations in Kabul and has gone a long way to driving sympathy, if not toward the Taliban, certainly away from the government.
Torabi and I talk about the origins of the corruption epidemic in Afghanistan and some of it’s key practitioners in the years immediately after the U.S. invasion.
We discuss how patronage networks permeate the highest levels of government and the international community’s complicity in enabling it to flourish. 
Torabi explains some of the ways and means by which corruption exists in the security sector, through fuel imports, electricity, in development, counter-narcotics,and politics. He also explains the country’s biggest post-2001 corruption scandal - the 2010 collapse of Kabul Bank.
I ask Torabi about the Taliban assertion that the group is corruption-free and about how successful President Ghani has been at driving anti-corruption efforts after campaigning on it in 2014 and, since, under the constant pressure of international donors and diplomats who have often prioritised short term issues over long-lasting reform.

It was the second time I’d met and interviewed this Taliban commander. I refer to him in the podcast as Ismael. The first time, several weeks ago, he didn’t want me to record our conversation. It did, however, give me the opportunity to obtain the kind...