Does fighting the Taliban require funding the Taliban?

My conversation with a Nato brigadier general

Brigadier General Eric Tremblay, the soft-spoken and thoughtful Canadian spokesman for Nato's International Security Assistance Force (Isaf) in Afghanistan, happened to be visiting Nato's headquarters in Brussels yesterday. So did I.

A close ally and adviser of General Stanley McChrystal, Tremblay told me that he had great confidence in the ability of the Afghan National Security Forces, including the underequipped Afghan National Army (ANA) and the corruption-prone Afghan National Police (ANP), to step up to the challenge of fighting the Taliban, and that the "clear, hold and build" counter-insurgency, or Coin, strategy -- which I have critiqued here -- could help stem the violence and turn things around in Afghanistan.

Overall, after my day at Nato HQ, my impression is that he and others within Isaf are optimists on the military/counter-insurgency front and realists, if not pessimists, on the political/reconciliation front. Can you blame them? As I have pointed out, on several occasions, "Why die for Karzai?"

Tremblay is a straight-shooter and refreshingly blunt and honest. I put to him the allegations in a recent Nation piece by Aram Roston, reprinted in the Guardian on 13 November. Do the US military's contractors pay suspected insurgents to protect Nato/Isaf supply routes into Afghanistan? Is the US government funding the very forces American (and British) troops are fighting?

Roston quotes a US army spokesman who said that international forces were "aware of allegations that procurement funds may find their way into the hands of insurgent groups, but we do not directly support or condone this activity, if it is occurring". But here is Tremblay, speaking yesterday:

Afghanistan is vast and landlocked . . . but, at the end, what the [Isaf-contracted] suppliers need to do to get the material [into the country] is . . . their responsibility. We don't dig too deep.

So are Isaf forces and, by extension, the governments of the US, Britain, Canada, et al funding the Taliban, I asked?

We could be.

Bizarre, eh?

More on my discussion with Tremblay to follow.

 

Update: Will Straw, over at Left Foot Forward, has also blogged on the trip and on comments made by the Nato spokesman James Appathurai. So, too, have Sunny Hundal and Luke Akehurst.

Full disclaimer: My visit to Nato HQ in Brussels was organised by the Atlantic Council and funded by Nato's public diplomacy division. I was part of a delegation of British bloggers, including Will Straw, Sunny Hundal and others. We were, according to Nato's assistant deputy secretary general for public diplomacy, Dr Stefanie Babst, the first group of bloggers to visit the headquarters in Nato's history.

Mehdi Hasan is a contributing writer for the New Statesman and the co-author of Ed: The Milibands and the Making of a Labour Leader. He was the New Statesman's senior editor (politics) from 2009-12.

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Leader: The angry middle

As a sense of victimhood extends even to the middle classes, it makes Western democracies much more difficult to govern.

Two months after the United Kingdom’s vote to leave the European Union, it remains conventional wisdom that the referendum result was largely a revolt by the so-called left behind. Yet this is not the full picture. Many of the 52 per cent who voted Leave were relatively prosperous and well educated, yet still angry and determined to deliver a shock to the political system. We should ask ourselves why the English middle class, for so long presumed to be placid and risk-averse, was prepared to gamble on Brexit.

Populism has long appealed to those excluded from political systems, or from a share in prosperity. In recent years, however, its appeal has broadened to young graduates and those on above-average incomes who also feel that they have not benefited from globalisation. The sense of middle-class victimhood has become a major strand in Western politics.

In the United States, middle-class anger has powered support for Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump. The former drew his activist base mostly from young liberals. And while Mr Trump’s success in the Republican primaries was often attributed to a working-class insurrection against “the elites”, exit poll data showed that the median yearly income of a Trump voter was $72,000, compared with a national average of $56,000. (For supporters of Hillary Clinton, the figure was roughly $61,000.) It is not the have-nots who have powered Mr Trump’s rise, but the have-a-bits.

In the UK, similar forces can be seen in the rise of Jeremy Corbyn. Indeed, research shows that three-quarters of Labour Party members are from the top social grades, known as ABC1. About 57 per cent have a degree.

Mr Sanders, Mr Trump and Mr Corbyn have very different policies, ideologies and strategies, but they are united by an ability to tap into middle-class dissatisfaction with the present order. Some of that anger flows from politicians’ failure to convey the ways in which society has improved in recent years, or to speak truthfully to electorates. In the UK and much of the West, there have been huge gains – life expectancy has risen, absolute poverty has decreased, teenage pregnancy has fallen to a record low, crime rates have fallen, and huge strides have been made in curbing gender, sexual and racial discrimination. Yet we hear too little of these successes.

Perhaps that is why so many who are doing comparatively well seem the most keen to upset the status quo. For instance, pensioners voted strongly to leave the EU and are the demographic from which Ukip attracts most support. Yet the over-65s are enjoying an era of unprecedented growth in their real incomes. Since 2010, the basic state pension has risen by over four times the increase in average earnings. 

Among young people, much of their anger is directed towards tuition fees and the iniquities of the housing market. Yet, by definition, tuition fees are paid only by those who go into higher education – and these people receive a “graduate bonus” for the rest of their lives. Half of school-leavers do not attend university and, in a globalised world, it is their wages that are most likely to be undercut by immigration.

However, we should not be complacent about the concerns of the “angry middle”. The resentment exploited by Donald Trump is the result of 40 years of stagnant median wages in the United States. In Japan and Germany, median wages have not increased in the past two decades. In the UK, meanwhile, the median income for those aged 31-59 is no greater than it was in 2007, and those aged 22-30 are 7 per cent worse off, according to the Institute for Fiscal Studies.

To compound the problem, the wealthy keep getting wealthier. In 1980, American CEOs were paid 42 times the wage of the average worker. They are now paid 400 times as much. In the UK, the share of household income going to the top 1 per cent has more than doubled since 1979. Because of our hyperconnected, globalised media culture, we see more of the super-rich, fuelling feelings of resentment.

As a sense of victimhood extends even to the middle classes, it makes Western democracies much more difficult to govern, with voters oscillating between populists of the left and the right. The political centre is hollowing out. Rather than pander to the populists, we must do more to quell the politics of victimhood by addressing the root of this corrosive sense of grievance: entrenched inequality. 

This article first appeared in the 25 August 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Cameron: the legacy of a loser