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8 hours ago
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A quarter of a century ago today, the world witnessed a devastating series of attacks on the United States that would change the lives of millions across the globe, setting off a vicious cycle of violence that continues to reverberate.
I vividly remember watching the breaking news of the 9/11 attacks on our old television, which we had only recently connected to the cable TV network in Pakistan. We had been sheltering there since the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and could not return because of the civil war and the subsequent Taliban rule.
At first, it seemed like a horrific Hollywood movie scene unfolding in a far-away land. But moments later, when the US president, George W Bush, appeared on the screen to declare a global “war on terror”, it became real and monumental for years to come.
The Taliban were driven from Kabul, followed by the deployment of US forces, later joined by Nato allies, including Australia.
Within months, a new Afghan government was cobbled together through a marathon round of negotiations in Bonn, Germany.
Our old television continued to report the casualty figures from this “war on terror”, complementing the grim news of deaths and destruction with stories of reconstruction and efforts to nurture a nascent democracy in Afghanistan. We felt safer about returning to Kabul when my elder brother got a job with the British Broadcasting Corporation.
I began my own journalistic journey in Kabul and soon sensed the paradoxes and bitter realities of war.
Afghanistan’s few urban centres were enjoying relative peace and marching rapidly towards modernity and prosperity, thanks in large part to generous foreign assistance. But across much of the countryside, the war was reaching a deadly stalemate, with millions of people caught between foreign forces, western-backed Afghan forces and Taliban militants.
Australia was an important part of this story, even if it often felt distant from the lives of ordinary Afghans. More than 35,000 Australians served in Afghanistan or in support of the war over two decades. Forty-seven Australian Defence Force personnel are recorded by the Australian War Memorial as having died as a result of their service in Afghanistan, with 263 wounded.
For Australians, Afghanistan became the country where a generation of soldiers served their longest war. For Afghans, it became a country where another generation tried to build a new life amid an old war.
What was deeply inspiring to me was to see Afghanistan’s young generation, dodging bombings and violence almost daily while trying to build a new society. Kabul was bustling with youthful energy, with scores of new universities enrolling thousands of students.
Hope was fighting fear every moment, like a fine thread holding a heavy weight.
Women entered parliament, took up government jobs and joined professions that had been closed to them for years. Independent newspapers, radio and television stations flourished. A generation of Afghans was beginning to experience freedoms that had seemed unimaginable under the Taliban.
I was among those young Afghans who found a place in this emerging society as a journalist. I saw the rise of independent media from close quarters and reported on a country that was trying, sometimes painfully, to find its way towards democracy.
But I also saw how fragile that experiment was.
Just as democratic institutions and Afghanistan’s emerging free media were beginning to take root, signs of fatigue in the US, coupled with rampant corruption among the Afghan elite, began to undermine the emerging democracy.
The international community had invested enormous amounts of money and military power, but too often the distance between its ambitions and the everyday reality of Afghans was enormous. In many parts of the country, people remained caught between an insurgency that was growing stronger and a government that struggled to provide security, justice and basic services.
That fragile thread began to feel the weight even more before it could grow any stronger.
Then came the day, just weeks before the 20th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, when the US rushed to withdraw from Afghanistan. The Afghan government and security forces rapidly collapsed, the Taliban swept into Kabul and the images of desperate Afghans – including me – trying to flee their country shocked the world.
Australia, which had fought alongside the US and its allies for two decades, returned to Kabul for one final mission: the evacuation from the airport. After two decades of helping build a new Afghanistan, Australia was suddenly helping people escape from the collapse of that very project.
The dream of peace, freedom and equality for Afghans, particularly women and girls was shattered.
When Australia announced the withdrawal of its remaining troops, the government said Australia would continue supporting Afghanistan’s stability and development and remain committed to preserving the gains of the previous 20 years, particularly for women and girls. But today on my new TV in Melbourne, I see the devastating decline of rights and liberties in Afghanistan – the very rights and liberties that the US and its allies, including Australia, had promised to help protect and nurture.
One lesson the world must have learned now is that boots on the ground or any other forms of war is not the only solution. Australia can continue humanitarian assistance. It can support Afghan women, journalists, educators and civil society. It can use its diplomatic influence with allies to keep Afghanistan from disappearing from the international agenda. It can provide meaningful pathways for Afghans at genuine risk. Most importantly, Australia can listen more carefully to Afghans themselves.
