Despite West’s Efforts, Afghan Youths Cling to Traditional Ways
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Version 0 of 1. KABUL, Afghanistan — Walk through the streets of Kabul and evidence of the West’s decade-long war literally clings to the Afghan youth: the American labels emblazoned on their shirts and jeans, the stylish sunglasses they wear, the cellphones they clutch to update their lives on Twitter and Facebook. To those who like to think that the foreign presence here has left more than spent shells and hollowed-out buildings, what the young people of Kabul wear and value can itself offer a sense of comfort. These trappings of the West, the hope goes, belong to a generation ready to embrace women’s rights, democracy and other ideals that America and its allies have spent billions of dollars trying to instill. But interviews with dozens of Afghan youth paint a picture of a new generation bound to their society’s conservative ways, especially when it comes to women’s rights, one of the West’s single most important efforts here. Attempts to alter women’s roles in society remain controversial among the younger generation, perhaps the starkest example of the West’s limited influence as coalition forces prepare to withdraw next year. “If someone thinks that youngsters have changed, they should think twice,” said Amina Mustaqim Jawid, the director of the Afghan Women’s Coalition Against Corruption. “These young men grew up in a war environment. They don’t know about their own rights; how can we expect them to know about their sisters’ rights, their mothers’ rights or their wives’ rights? If they wear jeans and have Western haircuts, that doesn’t mean they are progressive.” Even in Kabul, one of the most liberal cities in Afghanistan, many young men and women express beliefs that fly in the face of the messages coming from American Embassy outreach efforts. Censorship, particularly when it comes to religious offenses, summons little ire. Many consider democracy a tool of the West. And the vast majority of Afghans still rely on tribal justice, viewing the courts as little more than venues of extortion. On a recent afternoon, young women gathered on the third floor of a wedding hall, enduring the stifling heat in black niqabs to protest a recently proposed law aimed at protecting the rights of Afghan women. The men remained outside, forming a barricade along the busy street to prevent strangers from entering the hall. One poster read, “I am a Self-Aware Woman, I Will Not Be Deceived by the Empty Slogans of the West.” “This law is not only against Islamic values; it is also against all other ethical values,” one protester, Saida Hafiz, said to a crowd of about 200 young women and children assembled in the room. “If we remain silent today, soon our society will be morally corrupted like that of the West.” Such impressions can be heard throughout the city: in the shared street taxis that cart Kabulis across town, in the bustling cafes of the city’s sparkling Shar-e Naw neighborhood, even on the campuses of the nation’s most prestigious universities. Group taxi rides, which serve as Kabul’s de facto bus system, offer an unfiltered view of the local perspective. On board, men of all ages speak openly about everything from politics to traffic — often in the presence of women. On a recent evening, a crowd idled downtown along Enhesarat Street, waiting for cars and minivans amid a cacophony of horns and engines. A few men piled into a dusty minivan headed for Taimani 2, an area in West Kabul. As the minivan lurched along the pockmarked roads, they chatted about a recent shoe-throwing fight between two female parliamentarians. “Who let these women into Parliament?” said an old man with red hair and blue eyes, his knees pressed against his chest. “Women were meant to stay at home.” A young man seated beside him, holding books on his lap and dressed in a blue T-shirt and gray pants, nodded in agreement. On another trip, from the neighborhood of Kolola Pushta back downtown, a similar scene unfolded. A young student from the Afghan-Korea Vocational Institute, dressed in a blazer and slacks, brought up a recent Western public art project, where young men and women doled out pink balloons to passers-by. “Did you see what those girls were wearing?” he asked another passenger, citing the women’s short sleeves and fitted pants. “If my sister dressed like that, I would kill her.” Protests proliferated in the days after the bill concerning women’s rights was introduced. Though lawmakers almost immediately blocked it, given the outcry from religious leaders, supporters promised to reintroduce the legislation, setting off a wave of debate. The measure would essentially cement rights that have ostensibly been in place through presidential decree for several years — including protections against child marriage, polygamy and violence against women. About 200 male students flooded the gates of Kabul University, the nation’s most prestigious public university, calling for an end to the bill and the presidential decree. Gathered with a small group of friends after the protest, which he did not attend, Mohammad Taib, 19, said the draft was in conflict with Islam. “Those who are pushing for the approval of the law, they are doing it to make Westerners happy,” Mr. Taib said. “Those with independent ideas are strictly against it.” His friend Mohammad Haroun, added: “I believe in women’s rights, but in strict accordance with Islam.” In reality, a lot of what is thought to be Shariah law in Afghanistan is actually tribal tradition. Some of the most severe cultural practices, like the selling of young girls to pay off debt, are elements of Pashtun code that would be unacceptable in most other Islamic countries. “That’s a huge problem,” said Din Mohammad Gran, the dean of Kabul University’s Shariah law school, who does not support the women’s rights bill. “Some people have a misinterpretation of Islam that they learned from the wrong sources.” While conservative voices are easy enough to find in and around the capital, Kabul is not without its progressive pockets. Groups like Afghanistan 1400, a collection of young Afghan leaders committed to social and political change, are often cited as the vanguard of civic activism. Corporate workplaces have also become surprising petri dishes for quiet activism. At Tolonews, one of the country’s largest television news organizations, men find themselves working for women as economic realities scuttle normal social dynamics. This, in part, reflects what some observers say is the chasm between the public and private behavior of many Afghans, who are not as conservative as they seem. “Our traditions and conventions are telling us one thing, and the realities on the ground are telling us something else,” said Saad Mohseni, the founder of Tolonews. “People are actually acting in a very different way from how they are talking.” Some young Afghan women have taken the issue head-on, opting to speak out publicly for their rights. While they know their struggle lies along the outer edge of the accepted social protests for women, activists like Noor Jahan Akbar have adopted the long view. “After 30 years of war, what do you expect?” asked Ms. Akbar, a young blogger who helped organize a recent demonstration supporting the bill. “A mind-set built over 100 years takes longer than 10 years to change.” Ms. Akbar and about 100 other women and a handful of men began their protest one morning near the entrance to the Afghan Parliament, shouting slogans from a megaphone and carting banners. As the day wore on, whispers circulated that the Shariah law students were coming to violently upend the protest. Police officers massed along the periphery, their battering rods and plastic shields raised. Suddenly, hundreds of men emerged from behind the police, shouting chants and carrying banners. The crowd easily eclipsed Ms. Akbar’s protesters, snarling traffic along the road. But these demonstrators were not focused on women’s rights. They were riled up in support of a Kabul University dean accused of mistreating minority students. Even as the women spoke out, these masses marched past, largely oblivious to their words. |