Nasir Shansab's Blog, page 3

Afghanistan: America’s Crucible

By Nasir Shansab Published in the Diplomatic Courier on Sep 17, 2013 Reflecting on his time in Afghanistan as the head of the UN mission in 2006 and 2007, Tom Koenigs, writes in his book, Machen wir Frieden oder haben wir Krieg (“Are We Making Peace or Do We Have a War”), “If people would [...]

Egypt Will Be In Crisis Regardless of US Actions

By Nasir Shansab Published in The Christian Post on August 27, 2013 | 11:29 am The persistent talk and speculation as to what the U.S. should do about the crisis in Egypt is irrelevant. What will happen in Egypt will happen regardless of what the U.S., or any other country, does or doesn’t do about [...]

Nasir Shansab on the Burt Cohen Show

Today I was on the Burt Cohen Show. Burt’s intro to the podcast says: Nasir Shansab was a successful business leader before he was forced to flee his native Afghanistan with his life in 1975. At the time of the rebellion against the Soviet backed government and the rise of the Taliban, he had breakfast [...]

Change U.S. policies toward Muslim nations

By Nasir Shansab Published by The Monitor: Tuesday, August 13, 2013 12:01 am That a terrorist threat recently forced the United States to close 19 embassies and consulates — mainly in Islamic countries — reveals that the decade-long “war on terror” has been ineffective. It’s time to reexamine that policy. The war in Afghanistan and [...]

Nasir Shansab on Global News TV

I was interviewed by Global News TV and here’s their introduction: The terror threat that loomed over the long weekend continues and 19 U.S. embassies and consulates remain closed. But the threat of an attack is considered credible and much of the focus is on Yemen. Robin Stickley reports. Please watch by clicking here.

Interview on “Beyond 50 Radio Show”

A far-ranging interview recorded live on August 2nd with Daniel Davis on the “Beyond 50 Radio Show.” Listen here.

After Me the Deluge, Says Karzai

Perhaps the most vivid way to consider the irony of President Hamid Karzai’s recent accusation that the U.S. is collaborating with the Taliban against him is to review the Afghan president’s political career. In October 2001 in Bonn, Germany, a group of international officials had been jawboning an exotic gathering of Afghans to put their [...]

How things work in Afghanistan

In the weeks since my last report, two things have happened. Despite rejecting President Karzai’s budget twice, the parliament then approved it without any major changes. A person who is outside the government but maintains close contact with Hamid Karzai’s inner circle told me it cost Karzai some money. When I remarked that paying off all 200-plus members of parliament must have cost the president an enormous amount of money, he explained that Karzai didn’t have to pay off all opposing members, only the leaders who controlled them. How much, he added, was anyone’s guess.

“How can they look their children in the eye?” I asked.

After a moment of silence, he said, “People are afraid. They don’t know what is in store for them. They are tormented by the possibility of having to emigrate once again. Leaving the country without money is hard. Having some money cushions the hardships somewhat. That’s how people justify the corruption.” He smiled.“Besides, the little guy sees the big guys gobble up millions upon millions. They say to themselves, ‘If they do it, why shouldn’t I.’”

So, if you need something done in Kabul’s crowded government offices and courts, you better carry some dollars with you and be ready to part with it.

The second thing that happened was no less surprising. The Independent Election Commission had declared that the existing voting cards could not be used for the 2014 presidential election. Those were the cards that had been used during the 2009 presidential and the 2010 parliamentary elections. The commission had determined that more than one million fake cards had been distributed during those earlier elections and with those tainted cards in circulation fair and just elections could not be realized.

The commission’s decision was announced early in January while President Karzai was Mr. Obama’s guest in Washington. As soon as Mr. Karzai returned to Kabul, he declared that the country had neither the money nor the time to issue new cards. The old cards, he insisted, must be used for the upcoming 2014 elections as well. After two days, the chairman of the Independent Election Commission publicly pronounced his agreement with the president.

What magic might Mr. Karzai have used to convince the Independent Election Commission that those besmirched cards were acceptable after all. Someone told me to watch the commission’s chairman. He will be elevated to a more senior position in the government, if, he added, money had not already changed hands.

The other day, in a more mundane moment, a friend of mine and I went to the five-star Serena Hotel to experience the feel of luxury amid a dusty, dilapidated city. The hotel entrance was not particularly impressive. It was a small door cut out in a very high wall that hid the hotel behind it. I knocked at the door and a small quadrant was opened and two suspicious eyes in a young, bearded face looked at me. He opened the door. He let us step inside and searched us for—I assume—weapons. Then, he motioned us to move on toward a steel door painted in black.

Since the door was locked, I tapped at it and, after a short while, it was opened by another bearded guard. He indicated that we proceed to another black-colored steel door. That door was also locked. How could it be otherwise, I thought. Repeating the same procedure, I knocked at it, too. The door opened. The room behind it was brightly lit and the man letting us in smiled with a clean-shaven and friendly face.

We put our keys and cell phones on a red plastic tray and he guided us through an arms-detecting machine. At the other end, we received our belongings and had to go through one more door. As I opened this one myself, I realized how heavy these doors were.

On the other side, we found ourselves in front of a curved driveway and a large, covered and elegantly constructed entrance. Inside, the artfully arranged white-brown marble floor, the elaborately carved woodwork, and the round water fountain in the center of the lobby convinced us that we in fact found ourselves surrounded by five-star luxury.

The hotel’s coffee shop was a bid too dark. The server showed us to a table, and we each ordered a cappuccino. Later, I went to the glass-covered enclosure where an assortment of tarts and pastries were temptingly displayed. I ordered a layered chocolate cake which my friend and I shared.

On the way out, the weather had changed and instead of the light snow that had been falling, a slow rain came down. We rushed out through all those doors, past all those armed guards, jumped into our armored Toyota Land Cruiser and our driver merged the vehicle with Kabul’s undisciplined and chaotic traffic.

An inside view of Karzai

I met a recently with a a highly placed government official and asked about his assessment of Afghanistan today and in the next two years.

The conversation was in Dari, the Afghan version of Farsi. In translating from memory, I have tried to be as accurate as I was able. However, this is sure to be an imperfect task.

This is what he said:

Kabul resembles a chicken coop that a hungry fox has invaded. Chaos reigns in the confined space. The traumatized creatures—their eyes bulging for fear of death, their wings flapping in a vain attempt to escape the deadly bite of the unrelenting beast—flutter all over the overfilled cage in aimless, pitiful agony.



Hamid Karzai, Afghanistan’s president, who had always prevailed in his nefarious plans with his American handlers, failed for the first time during his most recent visit to Washington to persuade the American administration to agree to submit after 2014 any remaining American military personal to Afghan legal jurisdiction.

Mr. Karzai, an intellectually untrained but remarkably shrewd politician, in the best school of Third World bureaucrats, could not be expected to recognize his limits in this matter. Why his Karzai-friendly CIA handlers failed to convince him that this was one thing even the U.S. President could not grant him remains a mystery.

As a pressure tactic, he had frontloaded his demands with a long list of military equipment, including long-range artillery, modern fighter planes, and tanks, all sophisticated gadgets that his largely illiterate soldiers could neither operate nor maintain. Some of these items he demanded he was quite sure he would not get. But nevertheless, he put them on the table. He did so for the sole purpose to exchange them in a dramatic comprise move, forcing the Americans’ hand to give in the issue of retaining the protection of their post-2014 troops from the Afghan judiciary.

His insistence on the matter was purely for internal Afghan consumption. He wanted to return home from Washington as a champion of the Afghan nation’s interests. Forcing Washington to acquiesce in this is, for the Afghan pride, a crucial subject, and he hoped to secure his and his family’s safety after his retirement as president.

Despite his overgenerous treatment, he returned home with his head bent. For the first time, it dawned on him that the U.S. was dead serious in withdrawing most of its troops from his country and leaving the fighting to the Afghans themselves.

He and his cohorts suddenly saw themselves confronted with the possibility that the U.S. could even withdraw all its troops, leaving them alone, without the certainty that they could call in American military personnel to protect them should their deeply discontented and angry people come after them—a situation that, at best, could force them into exile and, at worst, cost them their lives.

When I asked my brave discussant what he thought about the possibility of fair elections in May of 2014, he chuckled and said:

He’s too cunning. Americans will never understand him. As soon as he boarded the plane back from Washington to Kabul, he started to think about how he could try to make sure that someone from his own camp would win the presidency. And quite soon, he knew what to do. The Independent Election Commission had decided that the voting cards used during the last presidential elections were unreliable as thousands, if not millions, of fake cards had been issued. They had begun preparing to issue new and more secure voting cards.

The day after Karzai arrived in Kabul, he announced that there was neither the time nor the money to issue new cards and that the old voting cards—the ones with the help of which he had secured his second term—would be used. The chairman of the Independent Election Commission called Karzai’s declaration politically motivated. In no uncertain terms he announced that with the old cards fair elections would be impossible.

My discussant laughed and asked rhetorically:

Let’s see how he’s going to bribe the chairman. Will it be a plum position or an envelope full of cash? And the cash that Mr. Karzai often and generously doles out comes in regular shipments from the Iranian embassy.

Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and asked:

If you write about what I said, you will not mention my name, will you?

Before we began our talk, I had promised not to mention his name to anyone. And I know I’ll keep that promise.

Who Helps the Afghan People?

A few days ago, I went with a friend to visit a member of parliament. I wanted to  discuss the problem I faced with the ministry of mines regarding my company ACATCO’s  bid for the rights of Hajigak—one of the largest, untouched iron ore mines in the world.

We were already within the parliamentarian’s neighborhood, when we must have made a wrong turn and became lost. Driving aimlessly through several small side roads, we passed by a monumentally large and remarkably kitschy mansion.

The house was as large as a multi-family building. Built in the architectural style of Arab desert nations, it displayed a large number of curved and brightly-colored verandas and clashed violently with the small, rundown houses of the neighborhood.

Having at last rediscovered our way, we arrived at our destination.

During our initial conversation—a relaxed chat punctuated by boisterous laughter, to underscoring the affable nature of the get-together—I asked our host whether he knew the owner of that humongous house we had driven by. He said it belonged to a general, who had spent many years in Dubai as a low-level employee. Now, after he had apparently stolen his share of the massive amount of money that had been poured into the army, he was acting out a long-subdued fancy.

At last, we turned to the serious matter of the visit. I opened the copy of my bid I had brought with me and began explaining the reasons why the ministry of mines had misrepresented our bid and instead supported two completely inadequate bids for the job. Our host pushed aside my file, obviously disinclined to study the file.

He suddenly asked what I planned to do with coal. I again opened my file and tried to show him the pages entitled “Technical Plan.” I found the page where the supply of coal was discussed. I drew his attention to the paragraph which highlighted the importance of a reliable and sufficient supply of coal for the power plant and steel mill we planned to build. It said, “… we also aim to obtain the rights to the Cleetch or Eshpushta coal mines, two mines that are closest to Hajigak.”

He again shoved the file away and said, “So, you want the coal free of charge.”

“No,” I said, “What I am saying is that I aim to obtain the rights to a coal mine.” Since his eyes made an incredulous expression, I added, “Aiming to obtain the rights means that I would negotiate with the authorities, discuss all aspects of the deal, including royalties. Whatever, the Afghan government and my company agreed to would become an integral part of the contract.”

Disregarding what I said, he insisted, “That means, you don’t want to pay royalties for coal.”

I couldn’t understand why he persisted that I didn’t want to pay royalties. I looked over to my friend. He shook his head which I interpreted to mean I should be patient.

I reopened my file and went back to the page where the matter of coal requirement and supply was dealt with. I showed him the sentence and said that by wanting to apply for the rights of one of the two named mines, it was implicit that the payment and amount of royalty would be a part of such an deal.

He straightened in his seat and said, “Show me the word royalty.” Pointing to the page, he added, “If you have the word royalty there then it’s good. But, if the word royalty is not there, this is a problem.”

I was at a loss as how to respond. After thinking for a moment, I said, “Well, that’s the way we have written it. There’s nothing I can do about it. But I can write a separate document that would specifically mention the word royalty.”

“No,” he said. “That will not work. It has to be mentioned on this page.”

“I can’t alter this page,” I responded. “We have already submitted the original bid.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he said. “Give me two copies and I will change the original as well.” He looked over to my friend and back to me. “I would have to work with a number of people,” he said. “It will cost some money.”

I was shocked. I had come to this man because I had been told he was honorable and opposed the minister of mines, who by rumor had taken a big bribe when he had decided the winning bids for Hajigak.

Was this just yet another contact that could not be relied on to proceed with honor and conviction? Is there no one in this crooked government who can be trusted to act on behalf of the Afghan people?