When I was a journalist, the highlight of my week consisted of just 2 or 3 seconds. After spending days trying to track down and get a hold of the subject of my article -- usually a rumored bad actor who I needed to contact for the obligatory "no comment" -- he would finally pick up the phone or answer the knock on their office door. I'd introduce myself and then wait for the inevitable silence that comes when a person knows he's been caught. It would only last a few seconds before the door slammed or the phone went dead, but that silence was what I worked for.
The other day, the Afghan Minister of Defense ordered the removal of 4 Afghan generals and over 20 colonels who had helped turn their National Military Hospital into a disease-infested nightmare where patients literally starved to death because doctors and nurses simply stopped showing up for work. The level of care was nightmarish and some day I suppose I'll be able to share it -- for now, just Google "Afghanistan National Military Hospital" and you'll should come across some news stories that give you a small taste of what is going on there.
Shortly after my arrival here, I was assigned to advise a group of Afghan prosecutors who were looking into abuse at the hospital. Lucky me, I got a tour. I also got my first glimpse of the deservedly fatalistic view that corruption in this country will be rooted out sometime between never and hell freezing over. As eager as the prosecutors were, it was hard to find any direct evidence of corruption -- after all, when you've spent 200 years ripping off the Brits, the Soviets, and the U.S., you get rather proficient at theft and deception. One of the biggest challenges was finding an Afghan source willing to talk. About two weeks ago, I found him. He works at the hospital and he had seen and heard a few things. Nothing that would hold up in court, mind you, but interesting tendrils of smoke that signaled nearby fire. The only problem is he doesn't trust other Afghans. Not even a little bit. Understandably, he was too worried to meet with me at his office, so he met me on our camp. I met with him alone (other than my translator). I plied him with free coffee and cookies, furiously jotted down notes and pressed him on details. I talked about his love for his country and how it was necessary for brave people like him to come forward. He looked at me like the newbie I am and, with just one glare over the rim of his glasses, reminded me that he rather enjoyed having his head attached to his body. I talked up the director of the Afghan Army's Criminal Investigation Division, telling my source what an honest man he was, how he was committed to prosecuting these mafias who stoop low enough to steal from dying soldiers. I asked my source if he'd be willing to talk to CID. He chuckled and said "No way." I offered more coffee and cookies to no avail. Importantly, however, I did get his permission to share his info with coalition forces -- as long as I didn't disclose his identity to his countrymen.
I went back to my office and typed up the notes. I made it clear that my source would not testify – and wouldn't even cooperate in an investigation. But I detailed what I'd heard, most of which involved allegations against a general at the hospital (we'll call him General Afzal). And let me tell you, this guy did some pretty awful stuff. But it was all single-sourced. Not only would it never hold up in court, but it wouldn't even qualify as good journalism. Sure, I'd heard General Afzal's name continually, heard similar accusations against him, but I had not come across anything concrete. All I really had were a few pages of conjecture, a lot of smoke and common sense.
Four days ago, the Afghan Minister of Defense (MINDEF) held a meeting with all the hospital personnel in a big auditorium at NMH. At the meeting, he announced that with the approval of President Karzai, General Afzal and others had been fired. General Afzal was present at the meeting, at least up until the announcement was made. I was told by one of my bosses that my notes had helped MINDEF win an argument with senior Afghan officials over whether General Afzal should stay. It was a bittersweet feeling -- I was happy General Afzal was gone, but I did feel slightly dirty for essentially dignifying hearsay allegations. In the end, though, trying to meet a court-worthy burden of proof in this case likely would have meant more soldiers needlessly dying at the hospital. Waiting to build a case and hoping the Afghan military justice system would properly punish General Afzal was just too much of a risk. He had to go.
I understand that when MINDEF announced the firing, General Afzal was completely silent for 2 or 3 seconds before storming out of the room. I wish I had been there to see it.
The other day, the Afghan Minister of Defense ordered the removal of 4 Afghan generals and over 20 colonels who had helped turn their National Military Hospital into a disease-infested nightmare where patients literally starved to death because doctors and nurses simply stopped showing up for work. The level of care was nightmarish and some day I suppose I'll be able to share it -- for now, just Google "Afghanistan National Military Hospital" and you'll should come across some news stories that give you a small taste of what is going on there.
Shortly after my arrival here, I was assigned to advise a group of Afghan prosecutors who were looking into abuse at the hospital. Lucky me, I got a tour. I also got my first glimpse of the deservedly fatalistic view that corruption in this country will be rooted out sometime between never and hell freezing over. As eager as the prosecutors were, it was hard to find any direct evidence of corruption -- after all, when you've spent 200 years ripping off the Brits, the Soviets, and the U.S., you get rather proficient at theft and deception. One of the biggest challenges was finding an Afghan source willing to talk. About two weeks ago, I found him. He works at the hospital and he had seen and heard a few things. Nothing that would hold up in court, mind you, but interesting tendrils of smoke that signaled nearby fire. The only problem is he doesn't trust other Afghans. Not even a little bit. Understandably, he was too worried to meet with me at his office, so he met me on our camp. I met with him alone (other than my translator). I plied him with free coffee and cookies, furiously jotted down notes and pressed him on details. I talked about his love for his country and how it was necessary for brave people like him to come forward. He looked at me like the newbie I am and, with just one glare over the rim of his glasses, reminded me that he rather enjoyed having his head attached to his body. I talked up the director of the Afghan Army's Criminal Investigation Division, telling my source what an honest man he was, how he was committed to prosecuting these mafias who stoop low enough to steal from dying soldiers. I asked my source if he'd be willing to talk to CID. He chuckled and said "No way." I offered more coffee and cookies to no avail. Importantly, however, I did get his permission to share his info with coalition forces -- as long as I didn't disclose his identity to his countrymen.
I went back to my office and typed up the notes. I made it clear that my source would not testify – and wouldn't even cooperate in an investigation. But I detailed what I'd heard, most of which involved allegations against a general at the hospital (we'll call him General Afzal). And let me tell you, this guy did some pretty awful stuff. But it was all single-sourced. Not only would it never hold up in court, but it wouldn't even qualify as good journalism. Sure, I'd heard General Afzal's name continually, heard similar accusations against him, but I had not come across anything concrete. All I really had were a few pages of conjecture, a lot of smoke and common sense.
Four days ago, the Afghan Minister of Defense (MINDEF) held a meeting with all the hospital personnel in a big auditorium at NMH. At the meeting, he announced that with the approval of President Karzai, General Afzal and others had been fired. General Afzal was present at the meeting, at least up until the announcement was made. I was told by one of my bosses that my notes had helped MINDEF win an argument with senior Afghan officials over whether General Afzal should stay. It was a bittersweet feeling -- I was happy General Afzal was gone, but I did feel slightly dirty for essentially dignifying hearsay allegations. In the end, though, trying to meet a court-worthy burden of proof in this case likely would have meant more soldiers needlessly dying at the hospital. Waiting to build a case and hoping the Afghan military justice system would properly punish General Afzal was just too much of a risk. He had to go.
I understand that when MINDEF announced the firing, General Afzal was completely silent for 2 or 3 seconds before storming out of the room. I wish I had been there to see it.
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