If we quit, Afghanistan will sink into the medievalism of the pre-2001 Taliban era. If we stay, will this conflict dwarf Iraq?

When Tony Blair followed George Bush into Afghanistan, after the 11 September 2001 attacks in the US, public protest was muted. A convincing case had been established that pointed to al-Qaeda training camps as a primary source of terrorism. America and Britain threw a second war aim in for good measure: to drive out the repressive Taliban regime. These two goals were linked only tangentially , but each had its merits.

It took just two months for both tasks to be achieved. Shortly afterwards, Hamid Karzai was installed as president, and the attention of the two missionary leaders turned away - to Iraq.

The picture in the intervening years is mixed. In and around Kabul, and a few other cities, a semblance of democracy and modernity was established. Karzai's writ, however, did not extend much beyond the capital. Like leaders of torn countries and foreign invaders before him, he had to cut deals with a number of warlords who controlled their own fiefdoms. Corruption grew. The power of the warlords and the livelihoods of the people under them depended on the poppy seed, which accounts for more than half Afghanistan's gross national product and is the source of 90 per cent of the heroin on Britain's streets.

In 2004, a year into the Iraq débâcle, the US also woke up to the deteriorating situation in Afghanistan. The solution this time was to extricate itself, gradually. Bush was happy to hand over responsibility to the British, under the umbrella of the largely forgotten Nato, and Blair was ever willing to help.

This was the state of Afghanistan when John Reid announced the start of another military campaign in January. Except he didn't. The then defence secretary told MPs merely that Britain was reinforcing its troop contingent to 3,300. Reid spoke of providing "the security framework within which the reconstruction of Afghanistan can take place". He also made clear: "We are not going there to be the armed wing of Oxfam." If attacked, forces would defend themselves. That was perfectly understandable: soldiers must secure an area before any meaningful reconstruction can take place. It is virtually impossible for non-governmental organisations to operate anywhere in Afghanistan outside Kabul.

It is clear that a contingent of just 800 fighting infantrymen is all but useless for taking control of Helmand, the most lawless of the provinces. At the time of writing, five British soldiers have been killed in the past three weeks. Battles are increasingly frequent against Taliban fighters, who have the organisation of a conventional force and the fervour of suicide terrorists. Much of the funding continues to come from Pakistan, including its security service, the ISI.

Ministers indicate that the number of British forces will double. But in order to be effective, that number would have to increase by far more. Meanwhile, the Americans have launched Operation Mountain Thrust, a four-province sweep involving 11,000 troops. The aim is to cripple the insurgency before Nato takes command of the south at the end of this month. By relying on aerial bombardments they are merely fuelling the hostility.

The questions are acute. Is this an anti-narcotics strategy? While it is laudable to tackle the opium industry, it is hard to win the hearts and minds of local people by depriving them of their livelihood. Is this limited reconstruction work? Or will it develop into a full-scale and long-term war? If the international community withdraws, Afghanistan will almost certainly sink back into the medievalism of the pre-2001 Taliban era. Will this conflict dwarf Iraq in its intensity?

In truth we have no idea. We, and more importantly the families of British soldiers, are not being told. What matters most is candour. This is not so much mission creep as mission deceit. Parliament has not even been granted a full debate. It must be.

One might have assumed, after Iraq, that the government had learned to be honest about the reasons for sending our forces into battle. It has not, and as the body bags are flown home, so public anger will increase.

Gushing in the profits

Eleven years ago it was Yorkshire. The reservoirs were empty. Yorkshire Water was preparing "rota cuts" in supply - 24 hours on, 24 off. Local councils prepared to evacuate the sick and old. The public became angry. The police were braced for riots. Senior executives of the privatised utility were pilloried and removed. A pitch of fury was reached of a kind we rarely see.

Today, even the most complacent Thames Water executive must occasionally think of that and run a nervous finger under his or her collar. There are no standpipes or lynch mobs yet, but the drought is having its effect, the screws are tightening on consumption and anger is growing. The Daily Mail, the national impresario of outrage, is on the case, and Ofwat, the regulator, has begun ordering the company around. Make no mistake: the worse the drought gets, the greater will be the rage.

This may seem irrational. How can water companies be blamed if it fails to rain? Well, there is the matter of leaks: like Yorkshire then, Thames is a gross waster of water. But that is not the point. What makes people so angry is that, through it all, very large profits are being made, thanks to steeply rising bills. Rain or shine, Yorkshire never failed to pay hefty dividends. Ditto Thames. In the public mind, these firms resemble war profiteers, those hate figures who banked millions from the public purse during the wars of the 20th century, while the rest of the country suffered. For their sakes as well as ours, let us hope for proper rain.

Post your comment

Please note: you will need to login or register before you can comment on the website