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We had to make a run to Kabul last Friday to take some clients to the airport and to pick up new ones. The Jalalabad to Kabul road is considered very dangerous by the military and US State Department, of medium risk by the UN, and very little risk by me and the hundreds of internationals who travel the route daily.


The Taliban or other Armed Opposition Groups (AOG) have never ambushed internationals on this route with the sole exception of taking some pot shots at a UN convoy last week. The reason this route remains open is that it is too important to all the players in Afghanistan to risk its closure – almost 80 percent of the Afghan gross domestic product (GDP) flows along it, so the Taliban would have a real public relations (PR) problem if they cut it, causing a large scale humanitarian crisis. The criminal gangs and drug lords who cooperate with the Taliban would also become very agitated if the road were closed. They might turn on any real Taliban groups foolish enough to be within their reach if that happened. We don’t take this run lightly, but we often choose to make it without body armor or long guns because we are afraid of being ambushed by the other villains – members of the Afghan security forces. On Friday our long string of luck ran out and we became the latest victim of the Afghan security company game. It cost us two sets of body armor, which we cannot replace because you cannot import body armor into Afghanistan. We were lucky to get away with our weapons (which are also irreplaceable).



Many think of private security companies as analogous to mercenary bands, with all the associated negative connotations. A few of them are very shady companies, and deserve all the contempt and bad karma in the world to befall their greedy principles. But most of the companies operating here are well run and highly professional. To facilitate bringing the rule of law to Afghanistan and to assist in the efforts to regulate the industry, three years ago they formed an association. However, that effort has been stymied at every turn by Afghan government officials, who seem less interested in regulation or the rule of law than establishing rules from which they will clearly benefit.


Here is just one of many examples. When the first set of regulations was written, they stated that all fees and penalties would be payable to the Ministry of the Interior (MoI). The Private Security Company Association of

Afghanistan (PSCAA) politely pointed out that the new Afghanistan constitution specifically stated that all fees and taxes would be paid to the Ministry of Finance. Many internationals are working daily in the Ministry of Finance (MoF) as mentors, so fees paid into that ministry go directly to the government treasury.



It was pretty clear to us that our assistance in Afghan constitutional law interpretation was not well received, and the process has gone downhill ever since. There still are no valid laws regarding PSCs in Afghanistan, but there have been a series of “temporary” licenses issued, which every legitimate company in Afghanistan has acquired. Of course, these “temporary” licenses mean little to state security organs not part of the MoI. Afghan security forces have arrested internationals working for licensed PSCs who had individual weapons permits and letters from their general in MoI and thrown them in jail for weeks at a time. Although we cannot replace the body armor stolen from us, we were lucky to get off lightly. It would be very difficult for a small company like ours to raise the cash needed for springing an international out of the Pul-e-Charkhi prison east of Kabul.


Here is how it went down. We were through the Mahipar pass and almost to Kabul. We came up to the last “S” shaped curve before the Pul-e-Charkhi checkpoint, and there was what I think to be a National Directorate of Security (NDS) checkpoint set up with belt-fed machine guns off to the side and some depth – a good quarter mile between the east- and west-bound checkpoints.



Unfortunately, I did not have the Shem Bot with me – his dad had a stroke and he is back in Oz with Ms. Beth. So I had Hajii, my good friend and official driver in the contested areas, come down from Kabul to drive us up. This turned out to be a critical mistake, because the NDS will not toy with two armed expats when one is driving. But when they see an armed expat with a local driver, it is an indicator for an “illegally” armed international, which means big cash if they play their cards right. I flashed my weapons permit and license, but the boys noted my two clients – two PhD types from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) – had body armor. In Afghanistan, body armor (used to protect clients), armored vehicles (also used to protect clients), and two-way radios are considered the tools of war and those of us working here must obtain licenses for them. But clients change constantly, so we cannot get individual licenses for them. We also have never had a problem with catch-22 before, because our language skills and charming personalities normally forestalled any potential disagreements.



The reason I take Hajii on all missions into contested areas is because he is a former Taliban commander of some repute (emphasis on former). He has also been with me through thick and thin and I love the guy – we talk for hours, although I understand very little of what he says and I doubt he understands anything I say. But he is useless when dealing with the law, because who knows what the hell he is up to when he’s not working for me? Whatever it is, I am certain it is not legitimate. Right after we were stopped, I heard him say something like “the armed white guy is a little crazy and I would not arrest him if I were you.” I am pretty sure that was what he said, because I gave him a loud WTF Hajii? And he did not smile, indicating things were serious.


The NDS wanted the body armor from my MIT clients because they had no license. They also started searching our baggage – I had another gig starting up in Kabul and had extra rounds, magazines, and a first aid kit, all of which is considered illegal (for internationals) in Afghanistan. The “commander,” who is the pot-bellied slack-jawed fellow in the black fleece, started pulling all my stuff out for confiscation. I looked at Hajii, who shook his head slightly, giving me the go sign, and went off like a firecracker at the “commander,“ who also instantly lost his cool and started to yell back at me.



That is a great sign because it indicates fear on his part. I knew I was not going to lose my spare ammo (which is expensive) and first aid kit. When he started yelling, I started smiling my wolf smile, which fellow sheepdogs would recognize as a pre-incident indicator and criminals recognize as a sign they have overplayed their hand. But they took the body armor off my MIT charges and I really could do nothing about it. The “commander” gave me his own wolf smile when his boys stole the body armor, because he knew there was no cell signal in the canyon, so what was I going to do? You can only push so far in a situation like this.


Here is the weird part. Amy Sun, our other MIT charge, was snapping pictures and caught three armed men way up on the ridge line watching things unfold. They were armed, but way outside the range of the AK-47s they were carrying.


I have no idea who these guys were, but do I know that the Taliban and in particular Al Qaeda fighters value good body armor and pay well for it. I suspect these guys are now the proud owners of two sets of premium body armor. I am probably wrong about that, but my current disgust over this incident drives me to assume the worst.



This kind of harassment has been routine for the past 18 months in Kabul. We have been spared because we have the proper licenses and normally travel in pairs. Yesterday I was copied on an email from the security director of the biggest US AID contractor in the land about one of their projects in the north. It is slightly redacted:


“This afternoon, Gen Khalil, commander of the police in Sherbegan, visited one of our well sites, demanding to see the PSC license of (deleted) Security. He informed (deleted) that the license had expired and that they have until 16:00 to produce a new one or face arrest. Rather than face arrest, all local national guards were stood down and the Expats and TCNs [third-country nationals] went to Mazar to stay over for the night. This leaves one of our sites uncovered and can have a serious impact on our operations.


Can MOI please, as a matter of urgency, issue new licenses? Maybe someone in MOI can talk some sense into (deleted) head. He’s no xxxxxxx”


Which brings us to the US Embassy and how they react to news like this—deplorably (to my mind). The embassy take is, and I quote, “We do not encourage US citizens to come to Afghanistan for any reason and will not help you in your dealings with the Afghan government. If you are arrested, we will endeavor to ensure you have adequate food and a blanket.” It is hard for me to relate the disappointment with which I view our Department of State. I was the project manager for the American Embassy guard force and know exactly what goes on inside our embassy, but because I have invested every penny I have in my company, I will refrain from further comment.



A major problem with the stability operations part of our campaign in Afghanistan is that the local people do not think we are serious. The local people are the prize here – everything we are doing should be focused on bringing security and infrastructure to the district level. But we aren’t, and the local people cannot believe that after seven years here we still cannot get the most basic infrastructure programs accomplished. The most efficient way to do that is with small numbers of armed contractors who are able to work at the district level for extended periods of time. There are a few people doing that right now – armed because they have to be, but performing direct, daily quality control of Afghan building contractors working on various reconstruction projects. We need to have more of them out here, both mentoring and quality controlling projects awarded to Afghan small businessmen. That level of oversight and reporting brings in donor dollars because they can be accounted for. Donor dollars and expat project management would significantly help break the funding logjam that currently hampers district-level reconstruction of roads, irrigation systems, and micro hydroelectric power generation.


At some point one hopes the powers that be will realize this, and aggressively support the Americans and other internationals who are operating far outside the comfortable confines of Kabul. For right now, we are basically on our own, which will eventually lead to tragedy. Nothing good will come from continued confrontations between dodgy police running “surprise” checkpoints and armed internationals.


From 1985–2000, Tim Lynch served as a commissioned infantry officer, commanding at every rank. He participated in three overseas deployments with Fleet Marine Force units, served in instructor billets at both the Basic School and the Infantry Officer Course, and served as the Officer in Charge, Special Missions Branch, Special Operations Training Group, Marine Forces Atlantic. He served as Operations Officer – Operation Vanquish in Baghdad in 2004–2005, and has been in Afghanistan since.