Pubdate: Wed, 02 Jan 2002
Source: Globe and Mail (Canada)
Copyright: 2002, The Globe and Mail Company
Contact:  http://www.globeandmail.ca/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/168
Forum: http://forums.theglobeandmail.com/
Author: Peter Cheney

SMUGGLERS BUSY ON AFGHAN BORDER

Warlords Getting Rich From Illegal Trade Have No Appetite For Political Reforms

As the war in Afghanistan gives way to efforts to rebuild the 
country, one of the biggest problems -- and biggest economic boons -- 
is cross-border smuggling.

Hundreds of Afghan warlords have financed their armies with drug and 
smuggling operations, and will surely resist political reforms that 
would derail their gravy train. For ordinary Afghans, working as a 
mercenary fighter for a warlord can bring in $300 (U.S.) a month or 
more, which above the annual income of most Afghans.

The fall of the Taliban has had an immediate effect along the border 
with Pakistan. Although there are no official figures, it's clear 
smuggling has boomed in the past two months.

One electronics smuggler in the town of Weish, a dusty Afghan outport 
near the southern border with Pakistan, said he moved more Trinitron 
televisions in November and early December than in any period since 
the Taliban came to power.

The smuggler, whose operation ranges from camels to semi-trailers, 
said the U.S.-led war against the Taliban has been good for business.

"Every time the bombers flew over, my business got better," he said.

In Weish, hundreds of new Jeeps, Toyotas and Massey-Ferguson tractors 
sit in the desert, waiting to be smuggled into Pakistan. Next to them 
are hundreds of steel shipping containers filled with everything from 
Sony televisions to Uzi submachine guns.

The economics behind the business are simple and compelling. Because 
of duties and taxes that can reach 275 per cent in Pakistan, a 
legally imported Toyota Land Cruiser costs about $25,000 (U.S.), a 
fortune in a country where many people earn less than $1,000 a year. 
A Land Cruiser smuggled through Afghanistan costs $6,000 to $8,000.

A senior official in Quetta, Pakistan, estimated that smuggled goods 
fuel up to 80 per cent of the area's economy.

"No law can stop this," he said. "There's too much money involved for that."

The trade in smuggled goods and drugs first boomed after the Soviet 
invasion of Afghanistan in 1979. The mujahedeen needed ready cash to 
pay fighters and buy arms. Afghanistan's opium trade helped fuel the 
fight; within a short time, the country became the world's biggest 
supplier of heroin.

The breakdown in infrastructure made it an ideal environment for 
smuggling. Local warlords quickly got into the business of producing 
heroin or smuggling goods.

Before the Taliban came to power in 1996, there were as many as 14 
"checkpoints" along the 150 kilometres of highway between the 
southern city of Kandahar and the Pakistani border town of Chaman. 
Together, the payments exacted by gunmen added as much as 400 per 
cent to the cost of goods transported along the road.

Under the hard-line Taliban regime, the checkpoints disappeared -- 
but illegal trade didn't. It shifted into Pakistan, which found 
itself flooded with an increasing number of Afghan refugees and 
displaced warlords. And the Taliban, despite their preoccupation with 
eliminating corruption and creating a pure Islamic state, found 
themselves hooked on the proceeds of smuggling, even in diminished 
form.

One of the most colourful smuggler and drug lords is Haji Ayub 
Afridi. He began his career as a truck driver, but by the time he was 
30 he had left that life far behind and was a millionaire many times 
over.

Mr. Afridi made his home in the Pakistani tribal area near Peshawar, 
which gave him easy access to the Afghan border and placed him in a 
unique legal position. Although the tribal areas are part of 
Pakistan, the country's laws can be enforced only through local 
tribal officials, whose palms were kept well greased.

In 1991, he was elected to Pakistan's National Assembly. His cover 
story that he made his fortune selling pottery fooled no one and had 
no impact on his success.

"Haji was the local economy," a Peshawar merchant said. "He made the 
wheels go round. If you wanted something, you went to him."

He recently returned to his Khyber Pass estate, after serving several 
years in jail thanks to the U.S.-led war on drugs. Few people will be 
surprised if his wheels start rolling again.
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