ALICE in Afghanistan...

Remember when the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland was happily smoking his hookah? Hypothetically speaking, chances are that opium came from Afghanistan… No doubt, the metaphor is a stretch, but interesting, right?

Before I begin consider two things:
1. Afghanistan produces 93% of the global
supply of heroin.
2. Afghan heroin is estimated to kill more than 10,000 people a year in NATO
countries…more than five times the NATO troop losses from combat

Here is a report that General McCaffrey recently released:http://www.west-point.org/publications/McCaffrey~November2009.pdf

Just fyi: I’m writing purely from the civilian bystander... so I offer my thoughts only to illustrate what the average Homer Simpson thinks! AND btw: I’m a big fan of Orwell. Ak: Watch out for the animal similes and cynical outbursts. So take what I type with a bucket of salt. No doubt I’m a bit irreverent on the political front, but I must tell you re: General McCaffery- his comment “women are in many cases are merely abused property with less opportunity than a donkey,” in a scholarly document left a bitter taste in my mouth. Now if he could prove that statement up with some factual opportunity-cost/real estate based formula proving such a margin, it might be okay. That said, much of what he said really resonated with my inner journalist.


DTR: Let's define the relationship!

I've heard Obama speak it (and Blitzer and Bush and Gare- with a menagerie of vocabulary terms!) I want to hear that the military and Obama agree! We need to clarify any objective that taps into our own limited resources (the war has a burn rate of $9 billion a month), time, energy, blood. Obama needs to be honest here - It’s far too difficult to give Afghanistan and its 28 million residents a facelift, eradicate drug farming (which generated $200-400 million revenue to al-Qaeda last year), dispose of poverty (5 million starving children) and educate an illiterate population (70%), oh and wait hold peaceful and honest elections in the next 18 months. (Unless we were on amphetamines, but I doubt McCaffrey (a former Drug Czar) would be in favor of that.) If we’re going to have America “Fix” Afghanistan, we need to be realistic about revamping a country full of landmines and starving zealots. What resources beyond money/military should we seek? Hmm. Maybe we can start issuing Afghan treasury... kidding. But seriously, albeit the monetary concerns, can we truly figure out what is wrong? Why this particular country, a land that neither Alexander the Great or the Soviets could tame... has been screwed from the get-go?

WHO/WHAT are we fighting?
Are we (US, EU, NATO) just losing dollars and lives, or are we killing the infectious and rapturous spread of Al-Qaeda? Notice, how many times McCaffrey used the term al-Qaeda in his memorandum!! FYI: Once. He also seemed to vacillate between Afghans being warm and receptive to our efforts and then will quickly jump to how they stone their wives. It seems implausible one could institute in a 21st century-democracy in what is easily a 14th century violent land of religious babble? Now Iraq has worked, is working… but again, we were fighting a system predicated on “human-interest” while it was one human by the name of Sadam Hussein, and his own self-interest, he still didn’t want to die. I’ll throw Iran in there too, while Ahmadinejad isn’t one for compromise, at least he has an email address. Whereas we’re working against the Taliban, they are growing more fierce, not to immediately link them to Al-Qaeda but my question is: Does the military know who in the Taliban is harboring terrorists versus those who are just misogynist lunatics? Hmm... Is there such a thing as an Al-Qaedian mousetrap? I feel like that could be a decent joke.

Again, Sadam was archaic, corrupt and selfish - he lived in a castle. Whereas Bin Laden has clearly capitalized on every communicational device, uses viral networking and does splendid job advertising himself to the masses and still manages to live in a cave. Different scenario entirely. Media/Press need to better articulate the differences in this "warfare" it's easy to lump the Middle East together.

And from a marketing position (use Bush round 2 as the beta) it’s a hell of a lot easier to sell “PROTECTING AMERICANS” than spending billions of dollars helping starving and angry men see the light in micro lending (as I don’t see them jumping on Wall Street). And while Bush has definitely forced Obama to backtrack and reestablish our responsibility as it relates to spreading democracy. I’m a firm believer in instituting democracy and I think it can be done, in baby steps. America did it on its own, and we broke many of the our own “sacred text.” There was no British satellite surveillance or Red Cross workers. Resources were abundant. And what we really did wrong - we shoved/killed Native Americans out of our way, and we “in-sourced” a chunk of Africa. Democracy was not built with democracy, but something much darker. So we cannot expect countries to build what we did without the same resources, tools or bylaws, and abide by our strict regulations. So how does America compensate for this inequitable difference, or better account for it when we're reprimanding countries for not replicating our model?

NARCOTIC CLEANSING
Re: Drugs – okay, well first off let’s go ahead and check the “Why are upwards of 2 million people doing opium” off the list. Afghanistan is a miserable country, providing an even more miserable existence. McCaffery is right that we need to substitute opium farming 7,700 metric tons with any type of alternative - I want to talk about my new seatmate pal (international Cambridge humanitarian and James Beard winner) Frances Lappe, but will save that for another email…. Essentially, I agree. Let’s find the cost of burning down the opium fields (the fiscal costs incurred in addition to the risk involved- talk about creating some local jobs!) and THEN DO IT. IF we can legitimize taking a country over (ak: US Department of Defense plans on spending billions over the next decade building a police force) then we should be able to burn some fields. I’m serious – have they actually done this?

My personal solution would be a campaign on rebranding the enemy. Americans have become CONFUSED with who the Al-Qaeda is, Hamas that, Shiehks blah blah blah (okay, Sheikhs are a little different), but let’s not let people forget there is one group independent from the rest – those who are out to get us.

Okay, work with me: There is a joke that the only thing that will ever bring about world government is aliens invading.

And quite frankly it wouldn’t hurt people to receive al-Qaeda in the same vain they might look upon a lower-key “alien” invasion. They place no value on human life, thus their “soldiers” are dispensable.

Where is the bumper sticker that reads, Alien Invasion: translation: Al-Qaeda. They're after something that has nothing to do with salvaging, protecting, defending - they dont' even want our awesome land... their mission is like none other, it's inhuman. While I’d never suggest a world government, I would suggest that the world build an alliance. While these “Middle-Eastern Aliens” happen to have beards and turbans and appear quasi-human like, what does make them “intrinsically” the same as aliens is, they don’t blink at the face of death. So we (as democratic freedom fighters) need to strategize how to defeat one who operates without the incentive of life, health, prosperity, etc. Ak: While Hitler was a nut job, at least he valued Germans. And while I’d again never suggest a global order - a new type of "militia" I would hope the global media (Larry King and a few features on CNBC) would take the energy to revisit the notion that al- Qaeda is simply a leftover of angry Taliban who are sick of America liberties and exposed skin, but rather a cult whose cause reaches beyond human life, so much so, it can justify any resulting death. Not to bring China into the mix, however I want to point out that it wouldn’t shock me in ten-twenty years if al-Qaeda efforts were relocated. Not that China can boast the next Britney Spears, but they are communist and we already saw what happened the last time the Taliban were annoyed with fundamental Marxists. Anyway, it’s been argued we indirectly/underhandedly funded these guys during the Cyclone (right?) but isn’t it interesting how one could argue China is under handily funding them now.

That said, I really hope some economist out there is projecting how the world would operate sans American consumerism and our enthusiasm…. I mean what other country supports a filibuster to happen? We’d go back to the middle ages, where we all looked the same and spoke different languages.

At the end of the day (and the end of really long emails) I remember this old adage: “Put your oxygen mask on first before assisting a child.” In this case: Afghanistan is the child.


I’ll stop for now. But in brief:
1. Rebrand the enemy
2. Recognize the DRUG problem – MEDIA has faltered here. Farming illegal drugs are means to survival – and while a lot of that is poured into al-Qaeda there aren’t a lot of alternatives. This is where we can reach out globally and redefine who cares about drug problems, and what they’re willing to do – also an opportunity to tap into American brains. ***This is an arena where Dems/Repubs and the occasional Socialist can get along.
3. Be honest. A crucial, but simple point: Any Afghan regardless of how earnest and genetically wired to be grateful for US intervention will identify far more with a Taliban than an American, and changing that could take generations, if ever.
4. Annex Canada. (KIDDING... I just find it funny when people suggest that as a solution to whatever problem is discussed!)

Perfect Weather is Invisible

It’s 4:52 pm in California.

I’m typing in a restaurant booth, surrounded by ocean. The weather is roughly a perfect 70 degrees. All elements are undetectable, except for the occasional warm ray of sun, or soft cool breeze to remind me to be grateful that the weather has chosen to be flawless.

I refer to myself as the “retired seatmate” for obvious reasons… some of the people who’ve randomly sat next to me on airplanes have changed; no, they’ve rerouted my life…

This time zone has maybe an hour before the sun will abandon us. The rest of America has already been dark for hours. And with December dusk also arrives a chilly front. But that won’t prevent me from relishing the view. There is pale light shining through the thick, plush, creamy and rose-colored clouds, suggesting there indeed, are heavens above.

On airplanes, I’ve met a man who saved my life. I’ve sat next to a woman, who is now one of my dearest friends, another woman who lost her leg to the same disease that nearly killed me. There has been someone from my past and someone who paved way for my future. And several days ago I sat next to a person who was desperate, no deserved for somebody, anybody to care. And I was too tired.

The glowing ball of fire will cautiously dip into the waves, but as soon as you blink, the sun will have vanished. The pink and yellow and azure blur your vision. The pigments of the buildings, cars, trees and sailboats weaken; the gravity of the ocean beckons the sky. The two will be enveloped by darkness for the next twelve hours and cannot be pulled apart until tomorrow morning.

December 6, 2009 will disappear forever and everything that happened with it. All those who have been born, all those who have passed away, the laughter, the tears, the firsts and the lasts, the choices and actions that dissect our lives, some more pivotal than others. Canonized and captured in photographs, facial expressions turned shadows, voices turned whispers. Just memories.

And before you realize today is over. It has past.

Empathy is a virtue- it is. It is much easier to be kind to strangers, because the assumption is that you’ll never see them again. In my aisle seat I am stressed and exhausted and frustrated. This man asks me how I am and my response is a single syllable “fine.” I’m chugging my then-cold Starbucks.

He asked why I am traveling. I spit out an effortless response, “a hybrid of travel and pleasure.”

Then out of guilt, I mumble, “you?”

Quietly, he says the word I hoped I wouldn’t hear, “family.” He stares at the seat in front of him with sad and empty eyes. He wasn’t waiting, but I could sense that he invited conversation. Myself, pop culture, business, bullshit, chatter, worthless nothingness… anything that wasn’t related to whatever misfortune required booking a plane ticket eight hours ago. But I voluntarily chose not to care. It wasn’t my problem. And so I put on my headphones and then fell asleep.

Now protected by large, gray… molecules of condensation packed tightly, the sun’s fever cannot reach me. Dusk is heavy with a freezing, angst. I’m shivering and my fingers are slow, taking longer to type, and this does not surprise me.

When the flight attendant walked by with the beverage cart I woke up. Completely forgetting our quick exchange I glance over to see if he wants anything to drink. But he is sound asleep. I understood. I’m an insomniac, and the only restful sleep tends to be on any mode of transportation, a car, a plane, and a boat, train. Any vehicle transporting me from then to now… I then wonder if he is dreaming. There are only two dreams for me – they consist of two plots – my family is in harm and it is my responsibility to save them. Or the other dream where I’m flying and the closer and closer I am to landing, the farther away the ground becomes. Maybe he has no dreams, no fantastical thoughts, playing in his head, I wasn’t sure.

He must be around fifty-five or sixty years-old? He seems like a nice, hardworking, family man. A father probably. His hands are intertwined and resting on his lap. He is wearing a wedding ring, it is worn, and I could tell hadn’t been removed in years.

The sun has long since left California. The goose bumps crawling on my arm are begging me to move inside, but this air, this fresh pacific oxygen is far more exhilarating than the electric heaters inside. So I will sit here freezing, calmed by the cadence of waves, and remember what this man said to me only 72 hours ago.

We landed in Los Angeles on time. The man was awake and quiet next to me. I didn’t desire to know where he was going and why. I didn’t have the emotional space, the empathetic room to take on the pain, the anguish of some stranger, it wasn’t my job.

“I hope you have a great trip. California is a lot of fun.” He said genuinely. Vicariously, maybe, maybe just polite. Not too sure.

“Thanks. Good luck with, wherever you’re going.” I said, the comment racing out of my mouth,
“I’ll need it.” He said. He played with the gold band.
“What happened?” And then the journalist in me got the best of me.
“My wife was in a car accident, a semi-truck hit her Volvo.” He paused searching my face to see if I wanted more. I revealed nothing.

“She was on her way to Arizona to pick up our son up from college. Anyway, she died last night. I couldn’t get there in time.” He choked. The truth, his nasty, cruel reality got caught in his esophagus.

“I’m so sorry.” Was all I could muster.

I wandered to baggage claim in a daze. The question screams, “Why do all these stories land next to me on airplanes?” For once, can’t a boring, silent stranger share my armrest, someone unaffected?

But airplanes are never that simple.

He walks ahead of me, carrying a small hunter green duffel bag, to his connecting flight, a steel tube to fly him to a nightmare beyond comprehension. A brutal kick of reality, and I was about to sit on a beach and write and share cocktails with friends. I was off to parties and glitzy experiences.

Life isn’t just unfair, it is bitter, unforgiving, a visceral uncertainty we cannot predict. Each moment encapsulated by the illogical, however pleasurable or painful. We endure. There is no choice.

It’s 5:53 pm and my pupils are wide. They are subconsciously searching for light in the black that has flooded the vibrant, rich sunset the coast was tasting moments ago. The moon has begun its crawl across the veiled horizon and the stars are starting to glisten. I can faintly make out the slices of silver touching the rolling current, illuminating the sound, as they crash onto the beach.

I cannot see the undertow.... the strength of moon's pull.... It is hiding underneath the waters surface. But I know once the wave hits the shore and the foam dissipates on the wet sand, it will be violently sucked back into the depths of the ocean.

It’s invisible. But nonetheless it’s there, waiting.