The Battle for Schools in Ghazni – Or, Schools As a Battlefield
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The Battle for Schools in Ghazni – or, Schools as a Battlefield Author : Fabrizio Foschini Published: 3 July 2012 Downloaded: 15 October 2018 Download URL: https://www.afghanistan-analysts.org/wp-admin/post.php The anti-Taleban uprising by the people of Andar in the spring surprised many observers and, quite possibly, the insurgents themselves. This made it possible to portray it as a spontaneous struggle of local villagers for the right to education during its first weeks. Now, a month later, AAN’s Fabrizio Foschini feels that, rather than risk describing something real in mystifying terms, we must look at the plausible reasons for all the actors involved to have acted as they have done - and consider the possible outcomes of their actions. Two months after it was first reported that the Taleban were forcibly closing schools in Ghazni and one month after residents of possibly the most-Talebanised district in the province, Andar, rebelled and took up arms against the insurgents, the situation is far from having returned to normality.(1) Only a few days ago, in a clash in the village of Paindeh Muhammad, one of the epicentres of the revolt, as many as ten militants were reportedly found dead. Repercussions of the events have even reached the provincial centre, Ghazni city. On Sunday of last week (24 June 2012), a delegation of the district residents marched to the provincial capital and protested against the fact that the Taleban had burnt down houses in Andar to punish the rebels and, during this action, had destroyed several copies of the Quran. Separately, the explosion of a ‘bicycle bomb’ in a playground in the city may well have been part of the Taleban’s retaliation 1 / 6 against the support that the provincial government is lending people in Andar. And then there is the question: a return to what normality? In Andar, and more generally in southern Ghazni, tables had already been turned before this last coup de theatre: in this context, the rebels were not the Taleban, but those who take up arms against established Taleban authority there. When government institutions interfere and try and support these ‘rebels’, they risk putting at stake the sort of informal, if not cease-fire, then restricted-fire inside Ghazni city, which they had earlier negotiated with the Taleban.(2) Just one week after the rebellion started, eight rockets were fired into the city. Then on 1 July, a roadside bomb hit a bus travelling on a bypass road off the main highway killing five civilians, among them a mother and her child. From the beginning, events in Andar had a surrealistic air. A ban on motorcycles – or better, a comprehensive attempt on the part of the government to reduce the number of unregistered bikes in circulation – may sound a strange casus belli. But bikes are a main means of transportation of the insurgents. So, in late April, the Taleban responded to the motorcycle ban by ordering the closure of all schools in the province. It was dramatically effective. At least, this was the case in the first days, with more than one hundred educational institutions forced to close down between 20 and 25 April. These school closures happened mostly in the Pashtun- inhabited districts of the province, where the insurgency is stronger. Among the most affected districts was Andar, where for many years now the Taleban have had more clout than the government (read some old reports from 2006 here and here or, more recently, here). And then, armed confrontation erupted between the inhabitants of a cluster of villages south of the district centre and the militants, and it soon became clear that the latter were able neither to solve the revolt diplomatically or quench it militarily. Andar is no normal place on the map of Afghanistan. This densely populated district south of Ghazni has been a significant centre for religion and politics for centuries, and many of its leaders wholeheartedly supported the Taleban in the past and up to very recent times(3). The roots of this revolt cannot easily be traced back to some sort of structural opposition to Taleban presence based on political, religious or ethno-linguistic reasons. It seems instead that the population reacted angrily to the Taleban efforts at curbing any sort of educational or social activity carried on by local youth, and to the ruthless methods they employed in doing so. Of course, a political track is also there to explain the swift and prolonged mobilisation of the locals. A cluster of villages south of the district centre has a history of Hezb-e Islami presence, and clashes between armed members of this organisation and the Taleban started immediately after the school ban in early May. The frequency of the clashes intensified, with the outcome shifting progressively in favour of the Hezbis. Soon, developments in Andar caught the attention of the government. Local powerbrokers linked to Hezb-e Islami, like former Ghazni governor, Faizanullah Faizan, and former MP, Abdul Jabbar Shilgari, both from the area, returned to try and reassert their clout in Andar after years of Taleban hegemony had forced them to stay back in Kabul. Hezb-e Islami networks also seem to have been instrumental in extending the anti- Taleban uprising in neighbouring Deh Yak district(4). 2 / 6 The Hezb-e Islami connection has certainly contributed to strengthen and militarise the revolt.(5) But it does not explain its outbreak since the role the party had played in Andar in the past had long faded in comparison to the strength of the local Taleban. The reasons for the hostility of the villagers vis-à-vis the Taleban are not to be found in politics, but in a broader and deeper malaise which affects rural communities in many areas of the country. The hardship caused by an unending conflict and the consequent economic depression experienced by rural communities who have now supported the Taleban for many years must not be underestimated. When the same people feel they are suddenly treated like enemies by the insurgents, for example seeing their youth deprived of a basic education – which is one of the few potential keys to access the more remunerative labour market of cities like Ghazni or Kabul - because of broader political developments for which the community is not in the least responsible, they can come to realise that there is no other way than force to be respected and allowed to live their own way. The re-opening of schools in a number of provinces and districts where government control is barely effective – like the Pashtun-inhabited areas of Ghazni where re-opening started from early 2010 – has been possible mainly thanks to the exertions of the local communities. They endeavoured to convince the Taleban of the necessity for education and other basic projects, after some years of insurgent targeting of school buildings and personnel. As explained in an AAN report on this, Taleban were motivated, in their phase of expansion, to try and ‘bridge the gap with rural communities’ and, also, to make up for their inability to provide services to the population by getting onboard the government program, or even by trying to co-opt it. In fact, they tried to exert their power by having a say, at least locally, on the choice of curricula, textbooks and teachers. The Taleban who decided to allow schools to re-open a couple of years ago are largely the same who today are moving in the opposite direction, at least in Ghazni. If their purpose then was to gain popularity and reach out to the public – and if, as the AAN report states, these efforts showed how ‘village communities were seen as primary interlocutors’ – does it mean that now they are more keen to use them as bargaining tools vis-à-vis the government? Is the logic of the conflict becoming more separated from the priorities of the communities? Education is certainly a priority for many communities, but one can hardly think of it as the single issue for which Afghan villagers would all of a sudden be ready to switch allegiance and brave death (6). Moreover, there seems to be an increasing trend among communities to use schools as a means to pressure the state with respect to other, possibly more vital needs. Last month, in Momand Dara of Nangrahar province, local residents, headed by an MP originating from the area, closed down schools and clinics in protest against the usurpation of land in the district by a rival group. After the deadly US airstrike in Sejawand of Baraki Barak, in Logar, on 5 June, residents decided to close the village school in protest, with the backing of the local Taleban. Does this mean that the main value vested in those schools for local residents is the attention they receive from the government and the media? Many in the Afghan government are certainly 3 / 6 interested in guaranteeing at least the formal existence and functioning of schools across the country, for both political and economic reasons. And, in a place like Andar, locals could surely be interested in defending the right to education for their children, but also in taking their chance to draw in external support and funds, and find a way to escape the military and economic impasse they have been stuck with for years. The Taleban still seem to lack both a comprehensive and consistent policy on education, something which could put schools beyond the risk of becoming targets, or the ability to implement such a policy (read about another case of a recent school ban from Nangrahar).