Rebuilding amid Afghan disorder

From the heights of Bala Hissar, an ancient military fortress, Afghan kings once enjoyed an imposing view of the city of Kabul. Centuries of foreign invaders have laid waste to the shelled and shattered fort, which stands as a metaphor for ravaged Afghanistan. But now it's the foreigners who are extending help with a generosity unprecedented in Afghan history.

In Tokyo yesterday, international donors from 61 countries pledged nearly $4 billion to help reconstruct Afghanistan. The nation may need $15 billion over 10 years. "We must eliminate the conditions that allow terrorism to take root," said Japan's Prime Minister, Junichiro Koizumi, announcing a pledge of $500 million over 2-1/2 years.

The leaders of the reconstruction conference - jointly chaired by Japan, the US, the European Union, and Saudi Arabia - argue that the global war on terrorism makes the case for aid to Afghanistan on a level no other country has seen since World War II. But there's a wariness in the air. The basic lack of government and proven ability to govern effectively could make it difficult to keep donor countries' faith in Afghanistan's capacity to turn a new page.

To repair such a profoundly broken country, pledging cash is only a first step. And yet there are already signs of a reluctance to make good on pledges even before the real work of rebuilding has begun.

The United Nations says that of the $20 million in start-up funds promised to Afghanistan in Bonn, Germany in December, only $8 million has come in - and even that required nagging by the UN - leaving the nascent government unable to do much more than talk about governing, much less rebuilding.

"If this administration is going to survive, it needs to pay employees and police," says Ahmad Fawzi, spokesman for the UN's Special Envoy on Afghanistan. "We must turn those pledges into projects. We have often seen the international community make pledges and not come up with the cash."

Funds that have already been promised - but not delivered - are a frustrating reality for Afghan government ministers.

Amin Farhang, a Kabul-born economist and development expert was living in Germany until he agreed to become Afghanistan's interim Minister for Reconstruction. Dr. Farhang doesn't mind that he is not being paid, he said in an interview in Kabul last week before flying to Tokyo. But he wonders how long he can function without paying the staff he has "hired."

High on his priority list are projects that include renovating destroyed sections of Kabul and the shelled-out farming villages north of the capital - Afghanistan's former breadbasket. Taliban-blasted bridges need repairing. Dust bowl-dry fields need recultivating, he says, if the country is to absorb even a quarter of the 4 million refugees who have fled Afghanistan's wars.

"We've done nothing yet. These are things we've talked about and discussed," says Farhang, a modest man who moves to the edge of his bed in his hotel room so a visitor, the Minister of Justice, can have the armchair. Farhang, like many government ministers, holds meetings in his room at the Intercontinental Hotel because his ministry has no glass windows, electricity, heat, or running water.

"Right now, I don't have any budget. I don't have furniture in my office or even a cup or a teapot," he says, smiling but not joking. "Of course, it is a concern. The international community expects many things from the new interim government. But when they don't stick to what they promised, the people here will not have faith in us."

Indeed, the financial commitments expected to be made as the conference concludes today will only be the initial steps on a long road to reconstruction.

The actual level of funding to Afghanistan is likely to hinge on how US and British troops, some 4,500 international peacekeepers, and a growing pool of aid workers are treated by the local population. Aid experts look back sadly to the case of Somalia, where US soldiers, who were supposed to deliver food to a war-torn, famine-starved country, were dragged through the streets of Mogadishu, dashing international sympathy. There, warlords and bandits also snatched up much of the food aid, using it to feed troops or to resell for profit.

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