A Massacre in Kabul

The deadly “incident” that killed seven kids is a reminder of the high price of war.

In this Aug. 30, 2021, photo provided by the US Air Force, a Air Force aircrew, assigned to the 816th Expeditionary Airlift Squadron, prepares to receive soldiers, assigned to the 82nd Airborne Division, to board a US Air Force C-17 Globemaster III aircraft in support of the final noncombatant evacuation operation missions at Hamid Karzai International Airport in Kabul Afghanistan. (Senior Airman Taylor Crul/US Air Force via AP)
In this Aug. 30, 2021, photo provided by the US Air Force, a Air Force aircrew, assigned to the 816th Expeditionary Airlift Squadron, prepares to receive soldiers, assigned to the 82nd Airborne Division, to board a US Air Force C-17 Globemaster III aircraft in support of the final noncombatant evacuation operation missions at Hamid Karzai International Airport in Kabul Afghanistan. (Senior Airman Taylor Crul/US Air Force via AP)
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A Massacre in Kabul

In this Aug. 30, 2021, photo provided by the US Air Force, a Air Force aircrew, assigned to the 816th Expeditionary Airlift Squadron, prepares to receive soldiers, assigned to the 82nd Airborne Division, to board a US Air Force C-17 Globemaster III aircraft in support of the final noncombatant evacuation operation missions at Hamid Karzai International Airport in Kabul Afghanistan. (Senior Airman Taylor Crul/US Air Force via AP)
In this Aug. 30, 2021, photo provided by the US Air Force, a Air Force aircrew, assigned to the 816th Expeditionary Airlift Squadron, prepares to receive soldiers, assigned to the 82nd Airborne Division, to board a US Air Force C-17 Globemaster III aircraft in support of the final noncombatant evacuation operation missions at Hamid Karzai International Airport in Kabul Afghanistan. (Senior Airman Taylor Crul/US Air Force via AP)

Zemarai Ahmadi, 40, and his brother-in-law, Naser Nejrabi, 25, fit the perfect profile of Afghans at risk for their prominent role in reconstruction of their country in the past two decades. Zemarai worked for a California-based nutrition charity while Nasser served with the US forces in Herat before enrolling in the Afghan National Army. Their close relative Ahmad Nasser also fit the bill as a former interpreter for US forces.

But, even though they had applied for Special Immigration Visas, they were not to be among the tens of thousands of at-risk Afghans who were evacuated out of Afghanistan in the last few weeks. Instead, they met their death last Thursday in a drone strike that killed them along with seven related children, two of whom were under two years old. In something of a sick irony, Afghans deemed at-risk from Taliban due to their associations with US ended up being killed in an airstrike — by the United States. The family were collateral damage in a strike aimed at the terror group ISIS-K.

On August 14, just a few weeks before the attack, Ahmad Naser’s American supervisor, Timothy Williams, had wrote in support of his SIV application, testifying that he was in “grave danger” due to his “commitment to American and NATO forces” and that he did not pose “any threat to the safety or security of the United States and its citizens.” Little did he know that it was the forces of the United States that posted a threat to Nasser’s lives and that of his family.

The US withdrawal from Afghanistan has been primarily discussed as a tragic story of betrayal of allies left behind. This rings true for millions of Afghans, especially Afghan women, who indeed feel betrayed. Within days of Taliban’s rise to power, their hard-won achievements of the last two decades, in fields such as education, entertainment and sports are already threatened. But this should not let us lose sight of the very real costs of US’s ongoing military operations in Afghanistan.

The fact that a strike meant to target a terror group has instead killed seven children and three US-linked adults has attracted international headlines. The fact that it happened in the capital city of Kabul and following a brutal ISIS-K strike that killed 13 American soldiers and dozens of Afghan civilians has focused more attention on it.

But those who’ve followed the war in Afghanistan know that this is nothing new. Of the more than 14,000 drone strikes that the United States has conducted during its 20-years-long War on Terror, more than 13,000 took place in Afghanistan. While they’ve successfully killed thousands of militants, they’ve also killed hundreds of civilians, including anything between 66 to 184 children.

Speaking on the Thursday incident, Pentagon spokesman John Kirby said the strike targeted “what we believed to be a very real, a very specific and a very imminent threat.”

“Make no mistake,” he added.” no military on the face of the Earth works harder to avoid civilian casualties than the United States’ military, and nobody wants to see innocent life taken.”

True as this may be, drone strikes, their dubious legality and dozens of civilians and children they’ve killed will haunt the decision-makers and practitioners of the War on Terror era in the United States and beyond. How many people will flock to Taliban and other anti-Western forces every time a drone strike massacres an innocent family?

I am not, and will never be, a pacifist. The United States, along with the international community, was right to take the fight to Taliban after they had harbored perpetrators of the brutal September 11 attacks. It was right to target ISIS and help dismantle it. The anti-Taliban resistance in the Panjshir valley, led by Ahmad Massoud and Afghanistan’s acting president, Amrullah Saleh, is right to fight. They deserve international support.

But as the United States goes through an intensive reevaluation of its foreign policy and warfare priorities, it should ask deep questions about its practice of drone strikes and all the innocent lives it has taken. If all the focus is on hurting the capacities of terror groups, without changing the conditions such as state failure that allows them to breed, terrorism will never be “defeated.”

A war fought from skies is an unfortunately apt allegory for how uncommitted the United States has been to Afghan reconstruction; a disastrous course that started when the Bush administration decided that it wanted to shift its focus on Iraq. As hyper-partisan debates in DC are to inevitably fill the air in the coming months, balance and honest reappraisal of the last 20 years will be key. In this, one has to never forget the face of real victims of war; those like Sumaya and Aya, two Afghan girls short of two years, who were killed last week in one of the last operations of the longest American war in history.



Damascus’ Mazzeh 86 Neighborhood, Witness of The Two-Assad Era

Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
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Damascus’ Mazzeh 86 Neighborhood, Witness of The Two-Assad Era

Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi

In the Mazzeh 86 neighborhood, west of the Syrian capital Damascus, the names of many shops, grocery stores, and public squares still serve as a reminder of the era of ousted Syrian President Bashar al-Assad and his late father, Hafez al-Assad.

This is evident in landmarks like the “Al-Hafez Restaurant,” one of the prominent features of this area. Squares such as “Al-Areen,” “Officers,” and “Bride of the Mountain” evoke memories of the buildings surrounding them, which once housed influential officials and high-ranking officers in intelligence and security agencies. These individuals instilled fear in Syrians for five decades until their historic escape on the night of the regime’s collapse last month.

In this neighborhood, the effects of Israeli bombing are clearly visible, as it was targeted multiple times. Meanwhile, its narrow streets and alleys were strewn with military uniforms abandoned by leaders who fled before military operations arrived and liberated the area from their grip on December 8 of last year.

Here, stark contradictions come to light during a tour by Asharq Al-Awsat in a district that, until recently, was largely loyal to the former president. Muaz, a 42-year-old resident of the area, recounts how most officers and security personnel shed their military uniforms and discarded them in the streets on the night of Assad’s escape.

He said: “Many of them brought down their weapons and military ranks in the streets and fled to their hometowns along the Syrian coast.”

Administratively part of Damascus, Mazzeh 86 consists of concrete blocks randomly built between the Mazzeh Western Villas area, the Mazzeh Highway, and the well-known Sheikh Saad commercial district. Its ownership originally belonged to the residents of the Mazzeh area in Damascus. The region was once agricultural land and rocky mountain terrain. The peaks extending toward Mount Qasioun were previously seized by the Ministry of Defense, which instructed security and army personnel to build homes there without requiring property ownership documents.

Suleiman, a 30-year-old shop owner, who sells white meat and chicken, hails from the city of Jableh in the coastal province of Latakia. His father moved to this neighborhood in the 1970s to work as an army assistant.

Suleiman says he hears the sound of gunfire every evening, while General Security patrols roam the streets “searching for remnants of the former regime and wanted individuals who refuse to surrender their weapons. We fear reprisals and just want to live in peace.”

He mentioned that prices before December 8 were exorbitant and beyond the purchasing power of Syrians, with the price of a kilogram of chicken exceeding 60,000 Syrian pounds and a carton of eggs reaching 75,000.

“A single egg was sold for 2,500 pounds, which is far beyond the purchasing power of any employee in the public or private sector,” due to low salaries and the deteriorating living conditions across the country,” Suleiman added.

On the sides of the roads, pictures of the fugitive president and his father, Hafez al-Assad, were torn down, while military vehicles were parked, awaiting instructions.

Maram, 46, who previously worked as a civilian employee in the Ministry of Defense, says she is waiting for the resolution of employment statuses for workers in army institutions. She stated: “So far, there are no instructions regarding our situation. The army forces and security personnel have been given the opportunity for settlement, but there is no talk about us.”

The neighborhood, in its current form, dates back to the 1980s when Rifaat al-Assad, the younger brother of former President Hafez al-Assad, was allowed to construct the “Defense Palace,” which was referred to as “Brigade 86.” Its location is the same area now known as Mazzeh Jabal 86.

The area is divided into two parts: Mazzeh Madrasa (School) and Mazzeh Khazan (Tank). The first takes its name from the first school built and opened in the area, while the second is named after the water tank that supplies the entire Mazzeh region.

Two sources from the Mazzeh Municipality and the Mukhtar’s office estimate the neighborhood’s current population at approximately 200,000, down from over 300,000 before Assad’s fall. Most residents originate from Syria’s coastal regions, followed by those from interior provinces like Homs and Hama. There was also a portion of Kurds who had moved from the Jazira region in northeastern Syria to live there, but most returned to their areas due to the security grip and after the “Crisis Cell” bombing that killed senior security officials in mid-2012.

Along the main street connecting Al-Huda Square to Al-Sahla Pharmacy, torn images of President Hafez al-Assad are visible for the first time in this area in five decades. On balconies and walls, traces of Bashar al-Assad’s posters remain, bearing witness to his 24-year era.