Quid Pro Go

Afghanistan's Hamid Karzai wants billions of Western dollars in aid for decades to come. Fine, but not with him in charge.

At the Bonn conference earlier this week, Afghan president Hamid Karzai told Western donors that Afghanistan "will need your steadfast support for at least another decade" --perhaps even until 2030. I propose a deal: The West agrees to stay for the long haul, if Karzai promises to retire from politics before the 2014 election.

It has becoming increasingly difficult to make the case for large-scale civilian assistance in Afghanistan. First, foreign aid has become a victim of budgetary politics. Second, public support for the war is fading fast. Third, American troops will soon begin to withdraw, with all 100,000 of them to be gone in three years if the Obama timeline holds. Fourth, we have far too little to show after spending almost $19 billion in aid there over the last decade. Fifth, on his bad days, President Karzai prefers the Taliban to NATO. And his good days aren't very good either.

In consequence of all that, the Afghan aid budget has been slashed, with spending by the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) in Afghanistan halved from $4 billion last year -- and it's sure to sink further. Forget 2030, the United States may be a marginal presence by 2015.

Karzai is hardly the only one to blame, though he has been blameworthy enough to make for an excellent scapegoat. President George W. Bush, of course, didn't believe in nation-building -- one of the few mistakes to which he confesses in his memoirs. Much of the civilian assistance under Bush consisted of funds doled out by military commanders to local warlords and to jobs programs designed to keep young men busy building roads and irrigation canals -- at least until the American troops moved on. This created a new, massively corrupt elite, and did nothing to help Afghanistan stand on its own two feet.

Barack Obama tried something very different, endorsing a counterinsurgency strategy in which a large cadre of civilians sought to develop the country's agricultural economy, to build up provincial- and district-level government, to make central ministries more effective and self-sufficient, and to help establish the rule of law. Along with the American civilian presence, the Obama administration vastly ramped up the volume of aid -- supporting the premise of counterinsurgency theory that improving governance will make military gains sustainable, because citizens will ultimately choose the state over the insurgents.

That hasn't happened. A former senior civilian official in Kandahar says to me, "There's more economic activity, more education, improved health outcomes. We thought those would be ingredients of stability, but the total seems to add up to less than the sum of the parts." And a report released in June by the Senate Foreign Relations Committee concludes that "the evidence that stabilization programs promote stability in Afghanistan is limited."

So if it's not working, why not just go home? Because, of course, we don't want Afghanistan to become a failed state and thus a nursery and launching pad for al Qaeda and other violent extremists. Okay; but why do we think development assistance will help stave off that prospect? I posed this question to Alex Thier, the director of USAID's office of Afghanistan and Pakistan affairs. Thier insisted that stabilization "does work under the right conditions," but also pointed out that aid in Afghanistan was succeeding according to other, very important, metrics. According to the just-published Afghanistan Mortality Survey, over the last decade or less, average life expectancy has shot up from 42 to 62 years while maternal and infant mortality have dropped precipitously. Thier also noted that 8 million children are now in school, with over a third of them girls, as opposed to 1 million soon after the war began, with almost no girls. The goal of civilian assistance, said Thier, "is to build a sufficiently resilient Afghan state and Afghan society so these gains will be sustainable." He had just returned from Bonn, and he said that he had been heartened to find "a robust commitment from the international community to continue supporting Afghanistan post-transition."

Thier lived in Afghanistan in the 1990s, was a sharp critic of the Bush administration, and an important source of understanding for journalists like me. I take what he says seriously, though I don't know whether congressional Republicans wielding the budget knife will feel the same way. But even those of us who believe in development assistance have to ask whether the gains Thier describes can survive the withdrawal of U.S. troops. After all, the reason stabilization hasn't worked is that, for all the schools and clinics and irrigation ditches, the Afghan people continue to view their own government as corrupt and unaccountable. When Afghan troops replace U.S. and NATO ones in Kandahar or Helmand, they will be trying to protect a frightened and deeply cynical people, but with much less firepower and professionalism. They may simply be overwhelmed, as the army of South Vietnam was when American troops departed.

By 2014, Afghanistan will not only have very few foreign troops, if any, it will also have vastly less foreign money. According to the World Bank, about 97 percent of Afghanistan's gross domestic product (GDP) derives from spending by the international community. Even if Thier is right about the level of sustained international commitment, in a few years, Afghanistan will be facing a security crisis, a fiscal crisis, and an economic crisis. The country will need not only much better management than it has had so far, it will need a government which the Afghan people actually believe in. The international community has done about as much as could reasonably be expected to increase the Afghan government's feeble capacity to deliver services, and to expand its meager presence at the provincial and district level; but capacity, in the end, is less important than legitimacy and accountability.

And this, of course, is where Hamid Karzai comes in. Critics of the civilian program in Afghanistan suggest a focus on "governance" rather than just on jobs and infrastructure -- on national institutions like the Parliament and the Independent Electoral Commission, and "sub-national" ones like district-level government. The most thoughtful development officials, including those at USAID, have always stressed democratic accountability over capacity. Nor are these hopeless causes; Afghanistan now has a thriving civil society and an increasing number of competent provincial governors. But Karzai has consistently blocked efforts to create checks and balances in Kabul, or to push authority down to the provincial or district level. He has protected corrupt officials and punished those who were foolhardy enough to go after them.

In that fateful year of 2014, Afghanistan will also be holding a national election. The last time I was in the country, this summer, the great fear of Karzai's political opponents was that he would either stand for re-election once again or would rig the process on behalf of one of the warlords with whom he surrounds himself. And that would be a gift to the Taliban of incalculable proportions. It won't do any good to build more schools if Karzai wreaks that kind of havoc.

Thus my proposal. Perhaps it's time for the Harvard Kennedy School to inaugurate the President Hamid Karzai Fellowship -- with President Hamid Karzai as the first beneficiary.


Terms of Engagement

Ready for Their Close-Up

The votes are in, and Islamist parties are ascendant throughout the Arab world. But can they rule?

The great experiment has begun. In recent days, Arab publics have gone to the polls in Tunisia, Morocco, and Egypt, and to no one's surprise, Islamist parties have come out on top in each case. Does this mean that Islamists have "hijacked" the revolution? Or that the Arab Spring will become, as Newt Gingrich put it in the Republicans' foreign-policy debate, an "anti-Christian spring"? The one-word answer is "no." The three-word answer is "I hope not."

Tunisia's al-Nahda party, Morocco's Justice and Development Party, and Egypt's Freedom and Justice Party (the political wing of the Muslim Brotherhood) are not secular, but they are democratic -- or at the very least, they have earned the right to have their democratic bona fides tested in the real world of political practice. They won pluralities because they were the best-organized parties in each country, but also because in the years before the populist upheaval they had come to be seen as forces for social justice in the face of autocratic rule.

They've earned their place; but what now? The most pressing question is not about their intentions, pious or otherwise, but about whether they will be permitted to rule at all. In Tunisia, where there is no entrenched rival force, the answer is almost certainly yes. In Morocco, King Mohammed VI promulgated a new constitution to give some authority to the feeble parliament, but he has kept virtually all real power for himself. Last week's election aroused nothing like the enthusiasm of Tunisia's or Egypt's, with turnout a relatively modest 45 percent and large numbers of voters turning in intentionally spoiled ballots. In Egypt, of course, the interim military government, known as the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF), has said that it plans to rule until a president is elected, apparently in mid-2012; but Egyptians are increasingly worried that the SCAF will not withdraw even then.

Still, elections have a way of changing the landscape. Morocco's Justice and Development Party (PJD by its French initials), through which the country's Islamists are organized, has already gently pushed back against the palace by asserting that if the king did not choose the party's leader, Abdelilah Benkirane, as prime minister, they would reserve the right to review, and reject, his choice. (The king chose Benkirane.) Ahmed Benchemsi, a Moroccan journalist now at Stanford University and very much a secularist, says, "No other party leader would ever have dared say such a thing." For the first time, he says, "the balance of power is being challenged." The Brotherhood in Egypt has challenged the SCAF by calling for a "cabinet of national salvation," which the group would lead. That won't happen; but the gauntlet has, ever so carefully, been thrown down.

For this reason, some of the secular figures who led the revolution in Tahrir Square have reacted calmly to the Brotherhood's showing. On a recent talk show, Wael Ghonim, the Egyptian Google executive who was a pivotal figure in this year's revolution, was quoted as saying, "It makes no difference to me whether Egypt is a civil or religious state so long as it is correctly run politically and economically." Many others, of course, fear that a Brotherhood-dominated parliament will lead Egypt deeper into obscurantism.

The big decision for the Brotherhood will be who to align with. The real surprise of the ballot so far is that the hard-liner Salafis have taken about a quarter of the vote, far outpacing both the traditional liberals who have long operated in the shadows of the military state and the more radical forces associated with Tahrir Square. The Brotherhood is a worldly force accustomed to political maneuver and compromise; the Salafis are genuine theocrats. The Salafis would probably demand clauses in the constitution limiting the rights of women or non-Muslims and would try to legislate morality, which Brotherhood parliamentarians have avoided seeking to do in the past. A Brotherhood-Salafi alliance would draw a line right through Egyptian society and might well turn Tahrir Square into a cockpit of secular-Islamist confrontation.

Will the Brotherhood turn that way? The New York Times' account of the electoral outcome largely accepted that view. And it's true that the Islamists can now dispense with liberal forces if they want to. On the other hand, Saad el-Katatni, the party secretary general, has explicitly rejected an alliance with Al Nour, the main Salafi group. Marina Ottaway, an Egypt expert with the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, points out that during the campaign season, the Freedom and Justice Party tried to build an alliance with secular forces -- which ultimately formed a compact of their own -- and refused to join an Islamist alliance. "If I had to take a bet about that right now," Ottaway says, "I would bet they would form an alliance with the more secular parties and the more moderate elements."

Joshua Stacher, an academic at Kent State University who has studied the inner workings of the Brothers, views them less as an Islamic body than as a giant jobs program. Stacher doesn't think the Brotherhood will provoke a civil war with secular forces, but he also doesn't think they will stand up to the generals who have replaced President Hosni Mubarak. The Brotherhood is no longer an opposition party, Stacher notes: "They're part of the political elite." He can imagine a scenario in which the Brotherhood backs Omar Suleiman, Mubarak's intelligence chief and right-hand man, for president -- a dreadful thought.

What is certainly true is that the prospect of finally gaining power has turned the Brothers into allies of Egypt's military rulers. While other forces stood up against the SCAF's brutality and called for a postponement of elections, the Brotherhood held its tongue and stayed off the street. In a recent speech, Mohammed Badie, the leader of the Brotherhood, known as the supreme guide, lamely explained that his members had declined to join the mass demonstrations -- which led to the deaths of at least 40 protesters -- out of fear of a "conspiracy" seeking "to lure the Brotherhood to the square" and then incite violence. Badie blamed the bloodshed on the ubiquitous "hidden hands" -- Israel, the United States, the CIA -- rather than security forces acting on behalf of the military.

On balance the Brotherhood might be less inclined to forge an alliance with the Salafis than it will be to serve as a facade and a prop for the military. (The same may be true of the PJD in Morocco, though it would be providing window dressing for the palace rather than the generals.) That would indeed amount to hijacking the revolution. But this is what democracy is for. Should the Brotherhood become an Islamist-accented version of Mubarak's old National Democratic Party, the Egyptian public won't stand for it. The Islamists could win one election, but lose the next. Of course there's the fear that they simply wouldn't stage another election. But the Brotherhood's own members wouldn't stand for that. "The era of 'one man, one vote, one time' is over," says Stacher.

Meanwhile, Barack Obama's administration has been reaching out to the Brotherhood. Last week, two midlevel State Department officials went to the organization's headquarters to meet with Essam el-Erian, a senior Brotherhood leader and the party's vice chairman. With the apparent Islamist victory, Obama may be tempted to pull back and perhaps even reduce the pressure on the SCAF to hand over power to a civilian government. The United States has, after all, been doing business with military rulers in Egypt for 60 years. But that era, too, is over. Whatever threat the Islamists pose, to Egypt or to the West, pales before the threat of further clumsy and brutal military rule.