by Hamish Wilson/September 25, 2010

It was precisely ten minutes to midnight. The moon was near full, casting its silver light across a slumbering District Centre. A moment later the stillness erupted into a deep roar as thirty-eight hulking Soviet-era trucks sparked into life. The rumbling engines began belching plumes of exhaust into the night air, shrouding the vast parking area with a choking diesel fog. In the same instant lines of waiting police pick-ups switched on their emergency lights, throwing eerie blue flashes across the gloom.

In unison, as if triggered by some unheard signal, they began pulling out onto the empty streets of the bazaar, lurching forward nose to tail. We watched in awe as the head of convoy emerged on the western side of the bazaar, its tail reaching back to the far side of the District Centre.

It was as if the streets had come to life, shuddering and growling with the passing of this mighty fleet.

Just then, the hills lit up with neon white headlights sidling down to meet the line of trucks now stretching over 2 kilometres. The US Marine escorts had arrived in their armoured trucks, and seamlessly wove themselves into the moving mass, as the police vehicles peeled off with perfect timing.

As one weaving mass, the convoy crawled across the wadi and began its torturous two-day journey back to Lash Kargah, braving IEDs and brutal desert roads to collect hundreds more tonnes of wheat seed and fertiliser for the district’s coming agricultural programme.

We were perhaps the only people who witnessed the US military, Afghan Police and these plucky civilian truck-drivers pull this off that night. It was remarkable.

by Hamish Wilson/September 7, 2010

The nature of international efforts to help stabilise regions affected by war is changing.

Lengthy campaigns in Afghanistan and Iraq have left western powers increasingly risk averse and less inclined to take unilateral action. Opinion polls suggest that their constituents are more aware of, and less willing to bear the costs – in both money and lives – of fresh forays abroad, unless the threat is clear and present.

One outcome to be vigorously supported is a renewed determination by allied countries to join forces to rebuild systems of government and restore law and order in war-shattered regions such as the southern Afghan province of Helmand. The advantages are self-evident; less waste, greater impact and a swifter transition of power.

A striking example is the Provincial Reconstruction Team operating in Helmand. Its forms an energetic, multi-national hub for the combined efforts of US, UK, Danish and Estonian personnel, both civilian and military.

In principle it is a strategy that should pave the way for a faster exit, and be more likely to leave behind a population capable of governing and protecting its own.

In practice, integrated stabilisation missions introduce new hurdles that must be overcome to achieve such goals.

The most contentious obstacles appear in the form of international political agendas, which must be carefully calibrated lest they trigger discord on the ground. Other challenges lie in bridging the considerable cultural and institutional differences that divide civilian and military establishments. The difficulty is compounded by civilian organisations increasingly working alongside militaries of countries other than their own.

Efforts can be further hindered by well-intentioned government departments forced to work together in dangerous and difficult conditions. Aligning systems and bureaucracies across the civil service is a mighty challenge at the best of times, let alone amidst the fog of war.

Amidst this increasingly complex and ambitious landscape, the question becomes one of how best to align efforts to increase the effectiveness of international stabilisation missions?

International geo-politics play the trump card. Without concerted political will, any joint mission is doomed to failure. But for those on the ground, for whom foreign policy is well out of reach, the answer may be more personal.

Heroic efforts continue to be made in integrating structures, systems and strategies – a must when the alternative is half a dozen email systems that don’t talk to each other, or conflicting strategies that pit forces against each other.

But the real key to generating unity of effort lies in relationships. In the jungle of organisations, mandates and bureaucracies that increasingly define international stabilisation efforts, personalities matter a lot.

Working with populations affected by war to establish governance and tackle insecurity is extraordinarily complex. It is common – and necessary – for teams to be assembled from a rich mixture of organisations, nationality, language and skills. But they face extraordinary challenges: how to balance the need to use military power to quell an insurgency with the intent to build enduring relations with local populations? How best to work with warlords and local enforcers to secure the peace? When to mentor a government department through a complex reconstruction project, and when to use military assistance to deliver basic services? The tip of the iceberg reveals a relentless array of dilemmas that must be confronted daily.

Success in this multi-lateral environment takes outstanding people, equipped with first-rate skills and the rare talent to work together under extreme pressure. Their ability to forge relationships across sizeable cultural, ideological, religious, political and organisational differences is what forges unity under fire.

And thankfully, it isn’t being left to chance, for good fortune to bring good people of all ilk together. Enlightened organisations are embodying joined-up leadership, charting a joint and strategic direction while at the same time giving their people the space to lead on the ground.

Those in the thick of things should be encouraged by what is working in places like Helmand: building relationships and creating structures that deepen trust and build mutual accountability. The rewards lie in action that is more integrated and more likely to effect change.

It isn’t painless, quick, nor does it even guarantee success. But for international stabilisation missions such as that in Helmand, unity of effort is vital.

by Hamish Wilson/August 6, 2010

‘Good governance’ is an overused phrase in Helmand.

Ive found it all too easy to fall into the trap of thinking that simply hosting a shura – a gathering of tribal elders – constitutes ‘good governance’. Its even easier to make this mistake in a district that hasn’t seen many of them in recent years.

These past months Ive observed the new District Governor – wise and honourable as he appears to be – wrestle with the daunting task of establishing legitimacy and influence over the population of Musa Qal’eh. His lack of tribal or economic affiliation is a mixed blessing. On the one hand he maintains a refreshingly unbiased view of local affairs, yet on the other, he must contrive alliances with the established powerbrokers closely watching from behind the scenes. Navigating this tightrope of Afghan politics requires both dexterity and courage.

Such efforts cannot be left to accident or good fortune. Supporting the new District Governor establish the legitimate face of Government here is – in the view of a colleague – ‘the only game in town.’

And from where I stand, it is a game far from over.

‘This is my first time to come to this place.’ Abdul Rahman told me as we sat in a recent shura hosted by the District Governor. ‘I have come here to ask for help, as my harvest has failed this year, and my family will go hungry.’

Abdul lives 30 minutes walk away – about two kilometres – farming a small plot of land with his wife and five children. I was curious about why this was his first time coming to the shura. “The Taliban will beat me if they know that I have come. We have to come in secret”.

Hours later the shura came to a close and Abdul still had not spoken. “I am too embarrassed” he confided to me, clearly uncomfortable amongst the gathered elders. He then collected his belongings and resolutely set off under the searing midday sun on the dusty trek back to his village. He didn’t say whether he would return or not.

Ive come to notice now when these shuras don’t work. They feel hollow and frail, a performance that fails to satisfy the people or serve their interests. And Ive felt what is possible when they do – a sense of participation, of unity and purpose. Either way, its clear that the shura hall is as important a battlefield as any other.

But Ive also realised that it doesn’t matter what I think. Winning the battle for ‘good governance’ in this district rests squarely on whether people like Abdul Raman feel it is worth it to make the dangerous journey from their homes to air their problems and believe that something will change as a result.

by Hamish Wilson/July 17, 2010

Find yourself downtown Musa Qal’eh and you’ll immediately be struck by its bustling bazaar.

If its early in the morning you’ll find traders hawking all manner of wares from the cracked pavements, waving you inside from the entrances to their simple concrete stalls. There’s over a thousand shops here – in a manner of speaking – and it’s the economic heart of the district.

You’ll find colourful haberdashers, resplendent with beautiful cloth from Pakistan, you’ll pass butchers offering freshly slaughtered goat and chicken, (speckled with merrily feasting flies). You’ll see heavily laden and garishly decorated trucks (jinglys) groaning under the weight of goods purchased in Kandahar by groups of local shopkeepers. You might even find a dingy café or two serving the area’s infamous soft-serve ice-cream. If you can afford it you can buy television sets, hairdryers and fridges, or make calls from the dozen or so satellite phone shops which serve as the district’s telephone service.

Although the district is primarily a subsistence, agriculture based economy, commerce is alive and well for those with a little extra cash or an entrepreneurial flair. And its slowly growing, with 10-20 new shops appearing in the past three months.

If you ask the shopkeepers what they think is important to continue this growth – as we did a few days ago – you’ll be told a consistent message; they want security. For themselves, for their trucks bringing goods up on the notorious desert highway from Gereshk, and for their customers. Things haven’t been great in the past three months in that regard – the summer fighting season has taken its toll on people’s appetite to go shopping. But they will also say that its about providing basic services like reliable power, and finding better ways of managing the municipality.

All told it’s a pretty reasonable request, one that is guiding the government’s redoubled efforts to attract more business to the heart of Musa Qal’eh. The challenge is clear; if the conditions are right, then – as no doubt you will have seen from your brief shopping trip – business can flourish here.