Afghanistan: The eternal quagmire...

The British were chased out in the 19th Century, the Russians were marred by it in the 20th, and now the forces of NATO are struggling with this perenially failed state in the post-9/11 world. Many factors are at play in the current conflict, the most important of which to Canadians is our role in this widening conflict.

Is the Canadian military aiding in assisting the fledgling Afghan democracy of Pashtun patriarch Hamid Karzai put down a reactionary and fundamentalist insurgency or are we simply playing poodle to American forces intent on guarding oil interests in the nation?

It's a difficult question, and the reputation and perhaps survival of the United Nations and the NATO alliance hang in the balance as our men and women keep coming home in flag-draped coffins.

The current regional situation makes the war unwinnable for NATO as it is being faught now. Operation Medusa may have resulted in the deaths of over 500 Taliban insurgents. But those that survived simply retreated across the porous Pakistani border into the tribal regions of that country. Taliban recruits are pouring out of the Madrassas of Pakistan everyday and the insurgency can rely on this reserve only to grow with disaffected Muslim youth seeing the fight as a chance to do what they can against expanding American imperialism. Certain reactionary charity organisations across the arab world (most notably in Saudi Arabia) keep the Taliban in guns and ammo out of their fat coffers.

The leaders of these Arab nations face a dangerous paradox. Both Saudi Arabia and Pakistan are attempting to stay true to alliances with the Americans while desperately trying to reign in the growing Islamic radicalism within their own borders through policies of apeasement. With these reactionary elements left to their own devices, NATO and Canada could be looking at a very long and dirty war in Afghanistan.

One of the prime reasons for the rise of the Taliban insurgency has been the lack of economic development in the country since the original invasion of the Americans. At the time, the nations of the West lined up to donate huge amounts to adi in the reconstruction of the nation. Much of this has stalled and farmers have again taken to opium production as a means of survival. Thus the Taliban has another source of funds with which to wage their war.

One of the primary weapons the Taliban used in their war against Ahmed Shah Massoud and the Northern Alliance was money. Many of Massoud's allies were turned to the Taliban side with bribes.

The Pashtuns of the Kandahar region are no immediate fans of the Taliban who assasinated one of their Patriarch's (Karzai's father) when he had the tenacity to suggest in a letter that they were destroying Afghanistan with their wars and religious tenets. This weapon can be used against them. The allegiance of the Pashtuns, on which the surivival of Afghanistan depends, can be bought as it has shown in the past.

Of course, much more than this is needed on a regional level. Anti-American sentiment fuels the conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq and provides recruits for the insurgency money or no money. As this drama plays out, we can do little but sit back and watch.

9/11 - Five years on...

When I was in the bush, cutting down trees, I found that certain thoughts, or memories, or simply images would get stuck in my head as I worked. The images floated about and I replayed them on a circular basis. One of these images was of the intial 9/11 terrorist attacks five years ago.

I was living in Parkdale with my buddy Pat when the attacks occurred. I had just gotten off a huge shift of working security at a building that was, interestingly enough, called the Residences of the World Trade Centre. Early in the morning I heard Pat yelling for me to get up. I was dog tired and kept sleeping. Finally he rushed to my room and said that terrorists had attacked the world trade centre. I thought it was some sort of joke or ploy to get me downstairs for something (given the name of my workplace). I came into the living room in time to see a replay of the second plane hitting one of the towers. Holy Shit, was the first thing I said and I repeated it several times.

Pat and I must have gone through several packs of cigarettes that day just sitting and watching the events unfold. Outside there was little movement, all radios were tuned to the news and it seemed that all of Toronto had stopped to watch the cataclysmic events churn out.

The aesthetic of that attack. The unimaginable magnitude and sheer absurdity of being able to watch a passenger liner slam into a building and their subsequent collapse, the could of dust chasing New Yorkers through the streets was burned into my consciousness. It was just too big and world-changing an event and aesthetic to lose over time.

I thought about that morning many times over the next few years.

One of the creepiest facts I learned of concerned the fate of the junk metal from the site. Many of the victims were reduced to dust in the attacks. Dust that coated the city and became ingrained in the junk metal. The metal was quickly carted off in the days after the attacks and sold to junk yards to be melted down. The melted metal was then used for all manner of consumable objects. Manily cans; cans for soup, catfood, spaghetti sauce and what have you. The dust, however, remained and the atoms that were once office workers were alloyed with an array of consumer items that, I'm sure, have passed through department stores over the years.

It seemed to me unfitting and wrong that the remains of the victims should meet such a fate, to be absorbed and canibalized back into the consumer society from which they were wrenched. The economy lurched on, people were commanded by the President in the early days to go out and buy. And these atoms, this dust came to rest on shelves and in cupboards across the US.

Notes from an ex-con...

The sun is shining, its warm and I'm surrounded by the fragrant aroma of gardens and gardens of flowers. In short, I'm miles away (literally and spiritually) from the dreaded Ospika camp. My last day in the bush was okay, Pete the slavedriver made us work until 6PM. Myself, a second year named Pat and a rookie drove out of the camp in a truck with a trailer on the 1st of September.

Pat had bad luck on the roads and ended up hitting a huge rock and blowing out a front tire (we already had 2 flats from the ride). He was shaken up so we changed the tire and I drove the rest of the way without incident. I was overjoyed to be done with brushing. It is certainly a job I will never return to. I became sick of the people and their cro-magnon conception of jews, homosexuals, and other things. I'm sick of working with idiots who I normally wouldn't asscoate with in the real world. Oh sure, there were a few decent guys, but given ther suffering associated with that job, and the lack of money that I expect to be good every year - there is no good reason for me ever to return to Apex (Rapex).

I drove down from Prince George to Vancouver uneventfully and took a cab back to my apartment. I immediately came down with some sort of stomach flu that is just relasing its vice-grips from my stomach and allowing me to enjoy my newfound freedom.

The Africa trip is coming together. I have my plane tickets, my vaccinations, and my visas are being applied for. The GAP tour backed out on me in Ethiopia so it looks like I will be travelling that country independently. It should be quite the adventure with some pluses and minuses. I probably won't get the exposure to the tribes in the south that I was looking forward to. On the other hand, I can organize an expedition up Ras Dashen (the highest mountain in Ethiopia and Africa's 5th Highest mountain) on my own (apparently it's a scramble but totally climbable). I bought myself a Bradt guide to Ethiopia and intend to spend a good part of this month laying out an itinerary for an amazing trip.

I found the books I'll need to write that article for Adbusters and will be bringing them with me to Africa with a note-book. For the moment, I'm still striving to extract the bush and the genraly hideousness of this season from my veins. It's not too hard when I'm surrounded by the peace and natural beauty of Vancouver Island.

Signing off recovering quickly...