Holding on to glimmers of hope in Afghanistan

As disastrous as America’s withdrawal from Afghanistan has been, there are glimmers of hope to hold onto. It is heartbreaking to see thousands of terrified Afghans — American allies — rushing into the Kabul airport and clinging to airplanes in a desperate bid to keep the freedom they’d enjoyed with the West’s military presence.

President Joe Biden described the scenes as “gut-wrenching.” It’s good to know he feels that. No matter when the last day arrived, it would have brought some panic and pain, certainly, but Biden’s stepped-up schedule increased the panic and pain exponentially— and needlessly.

American and NATO withdrawal from Afghanistan has been a rolling target for years. It was announced during Barack Obama’s second term. The Trump administration signed an agreement in February 2020 for full withdrawal by May 2021.

The Biden administration pushed this back, deciding not to begin our exit until May, with the goal of completing it by Sept. 11 — the 20th anniversary of that horrific day.

In early July, however, Biden suddenly announced our military operations would end on Aug. 31. After the deadly chaos last weekend in Kabul, Biden defended his decision, saying he’d learned over the years that “there was never a good time to withdraw U.S. forces.”

True, but a wiser leader would have chosen a less awful time, and it would have been after we protected the people who risked their lives to help the cause of liberty. You don’t abandon your comrades on the battlefield. We just did.

During the deadly, lightning-fast collapse of Afghanistan’s weak democracy, as the Taliban advanced on the capital city, reporters spoke of interpreters and other Afghan nationals who had helped us now waiting on “red tape,” the slow process of getting security clearances to emigrate to the U.S.

Hearing this, my first inclination was to scoff: We produce the red tape, we have the power to cut it.

But this is wrong. It would be dangerous to cut the red tape now, under the extreme emotional pressure of last weekend’s chaos, when American security is so clearly at risk. Not every person who thronged to the Kabul airport hoping to board a flight to America is necessarily a friend of this country.

Words from an Army intelligence officer who served in Afghanistan — Summer Rogowski, of Canonsburg, interviewed by the Post-Gazette — illuminated that risk. Afghans “do not have identification cards or documented lineage,” she said. “Anyone can come over here claiming to be a certain name and not actually be that person.”

With the U.S. having pledged to admit 60,000 Afghan citizens through special visas, there are many opportunities for impostors to slip through, jeopardizinghomeland security.

All of this argues for a more deliberate withdrawal than our government pursued. The Americans who can vouch for the identity of true allies are the men and women who served with them, day in and day out, whose lives depended on knowing friend from foe. That painstaking identification process could have begun as soon as a drawdown was announced,which was seven years ago.

Given our country’s two decades of effort, investment and sacrifice, the rapid collapse of the Afghan government was startling and disappointing. Despite this collapse, there are hopeful signs to be seen. There is also hope in what we don’t see.

We watched thousands rush to the airport, hoping to escape the Taliban’s approaching terrors. There are millions more we could not see — the women and girls suddenly absent from public places in Afghan cities and villages.

For two decades, thanks to the sacrifices of thousands of Americans, millions of Afghan females experienced unprecedented liberty. They enjoyed the right to be educated, to work, to walk in public without fear or shame.

Two-thirds of the Afghan population, male and female, grew up in freedom.They won’t forget that soon.

If they can forgive the abrupt, devastating departure of their democratic allies, and can nurture the seeds others planted, perhaps in due time, they will bring forth their own new nation, conceived — however imperfectly— in liberty.