Land disputes a hallmark of war
In Afghanistan, usurped property part of U.S. legacy
At harvest time, as neighbors and relatives reap their crops, 80-year-old Jamal Khan can only look in despair on the plot of land that was the source of his family’s livelihood — until the American forces arrived over a decade ago.
Just before sunset one day, armored vehicles drove into fields of knee-high corn stalks, claimed about 30 acres that were co-owned by about as many families and quickly cordoned off the area with barbed wire. This was now Combat Outpost Honaker-Miracle, one of the roughly 1,000 military installations the United States and its coalition partners would prop up across Afghanistan.
“In the whole vastness of the lord’s world, I had this plot of land and this house that I am living in and nothing else,” said Khan, who lives the Watapur District of Kunar province, in eastern Afghanistan. “We told them this is our private land, how do you suddenly put up here? They said nothing.”
Khan is one of countless Afghans whose land became a casualty of the U.S.-led war and the sprawling military infrastructure born from it. They have been forced to navigate a maze of Afghan and American bureaucracy and indifference, stoking a growing bitterness toward coalition forces and the Afghan government alike.
Despite the drawdown of American forces in Afghanistan from more than 100,000 in 2011 to fewer than 5,000, some of the property they occupied has not been returned. Instead, the bases and the land have been transferred to Afghan secu
rity forces.
The Americans have left Watapur but Khan does not have his land back, and similar conflicts linger across the country. In at least half a dozen of Afghanistan’s 34 provinces, The New York Times has found land disputes involving owners who said they had simply been shut out.
In a country where due process is nearly impossible in the face of corruption and state erosion, the U.S. presence has added to a long history of land disputes that have often served as an underlying cause of local conflicts.
The Taliban touts the swift resolution of disputes in its shadow courts as a strength, and the unresolved discord over land bolsters the insurgents’ message that not only are Afghans deprived of justice under the American-backed government, but that the U.S. military presence has added to the injustice.
Khan still carries a pile of documents: petitions to the government, and even confirmation letters from the U.S. Army that say he is the rightful owner. On several occasions, he says, delegations from Kabul came to investigate — and they asked the villagers for money to cover their expenses during the stay.
But the most painful reminder of the trespass is his collection of small receipts. Although the
Afghan army now occupies his land, Khan is still required to pay tax on the plot.
Over the years of fighting, the size of the U.S.-constructed installations varied greatly. Some bases were sprawling, even housing their own fast-food chain restaurants. In other cases, coalition forces would briefly occupy empty Afghan homes, destroying or modifying walls for defensive purposes before leaving.
Today, most installations are controlled by Afghan security forces; the few U.S. bases that remain are shuttering now as part of the U.S. deal with the Taliban.
In northern Balkh province, the U.S.-led coalition forces built a base next to the provincial capital’s airport. Amanullah Balkhi, a local business owner, says the installation occupied about 20 acres of his land.
The defense ministry said it was government land, Balkhi was told, but if he proved he owned it, the coalition would compensate him and pay rent. He says he fought a six-year legal battle that cost him about $2 million, which he covered by selling two of his apartment buildings, renting out more land and taking on $500,000 of debt.
“I have the deed, and the government and the courts have attested that this is my land,” he said. “But the Americans still have the land and they still deny me.”