Afghanistan: Kingly Accomplishment

The ruler of Afghanistan is a man of many accomplishments. At 51, Mohammed Zahir Shah can snag the wiliest trout in the Hindu Kush, swoop down a ski slope at 60 m.p.h., or drop a brace of partridge as deftly as a skeet cham pion. He rides like Lochinvar, golfs near par on any course, and betweentimes collects rare books and Oriental art. On his experimental farm outside the ancient capital of Kabul, he raises mutant grapes, outsize apricots, and dairy cattle that can withstand the rigors of Afghan altitude with milky aplomb. But as one of his courtiers puts it, “the King has a conscience.” Accordingly, in the past two years, Zahir Shah has mastered a new art: politics. For Afghanistan, that is the kingliest accomplishment of all.

Power & Pingpong. For 30 years, the King had put up with despotic rule. When he came to power in 1933 after his father’s assassination, Zahir Shah let his uncles run the country while he played games and grew vegetables. In 1953 Zahir Shah’s cousin, Prince Mohammed Daoud, took over and continued the tough stuff. Secret police snooped everywhere; the press was heavily censored. After Daoud quarreled with his finance minister, that official and his family disappeared. Balding, haughty and highhanded, Daoud alienated Afghanistan’s slowly developing intellectual class and won the distaste—if not outright dislike—of the nation’s 13 million poverty-stricken subjects.

Still, by playing a diplomatic ping-pong game with Moscow and Washington, Daoud managed to build an economic infrastructure for his country. Soviet engineers cut the world’s highest road tunnel through the Hindu Kush escarpment at Salang Pass; Americans erected a vaulting jet airport at Kandahar, the country’s second city; together, they have pushed miles of highway across the high, harsh plateau. Along the Helmand River, eight U.S.-financed hydroelectric dams began rising.

But rising just as powerfully was resentment at Daoud’s dictatorial ways, and in 1963 Zahir Shah forced his cousin to retire. For the first time in Afghan history, a commoner, Mohammed Yusuf, was appointed Prime Minister; his main job was to oversee the drafting of a new constitution. What evolved is a document that brings the criminal code into the 20th century and forbids members of the royal family to serve in either the Cabinet or the 216-seat Wolesi Jirga (People’s Council or Parliament). Though the King may veto laws, the Parliament can overrule him with a two-thirds majority. By contrast, Zahir Shah’s father in 1931 hamstrung the legislature, demanding that the King be mentioned in Friday prayers at the mosque, and hewed closely to Koranic justice that lopped off the hands of a thief.

Elections & Flowers. Most important, the new constitution provided for fresh elections. When they were held last September, every seat in the Wolesi Jirga was contested—in some cases by as many as twelve candidates—and 45% of Afghanistan’s eligible voters (everybody above 20) turned out. The resulting legislature included the widest array ever of Afghans: from doctors to shepherds, from liberal lawyers to ultra-conservative mullahs (Moslem teachers), as well as four women and six former political prisoners.

The mix was too reform-minded for Mohammed Yusuf. The new legislature whipped up unproved charges of corruption against his regime, and Kabul’s high school and university students followed up with a sit-in in the Wolesi Jirga, demanding Yusuf’s ouster. Street demonstrations followed, and the police fired into the crowd, killing at least three. The King secured Yusuf’s resignation and in his place appointed Mohammed Hashim Maiwandwal, 46, a lanky, Lincolnesque liberal who was born in a three-room mud hut and rose to prominence as Afghanistan’s ambassador to Washington, London and Karachi. Maiwandwal quickly dashed off to the university and calmed the irate students. They carried him away in a heap of flowers.

Last week Maiwandwal cashed in on that good feeling by reappointing three competent ministers of the Yusuf government—a move much needed in a country with little in the way of human resources.

Neither Maiwandwal nor his King believes that democracy will come easily to Afghanistan. In a nation where violence is still the code (two of Zahir

Shah’s three predecessors were murdered), the process will be long and hard. “There are risks involved in instituting democracy at this time,” Maiwandwal explained last week. “But they are calculated risks. The people will have to come to understand more about the processes of law.”

That is just what the U.S. would like to see. Afghanistan has always been a buffer between Russia and the Indian subcontinent. As such, it must remain neutral. American aid ($300 million v. Russia’s $700 million) is dedicated to promoting that neutrality—and to building democracy as well.