six-man ‘advisory council’ while he remained in splendid isolation in Kandahar. In the seven years he controlled the country, he visited the capital just twice.
This aloof style created a problem for the administration in Kabul before it had even begun to govern. No country is easily ruled from two capitals at once. As the Amir ul-Mu’mineen, Omar considered it his primary role to set the spiritual tone of his revolution; the business of actual government was generally left to others. ‘Everything that happens depends on God,’ he said when he had accepted the leadership in 1994 – and it turned out that he really meant it. Mullah Rabbani was the de facto Prime Minister responsible for the day-to-day running of the government. Since Omarchose not to show himself, Rabbani also became the domestic and international public face of the Taliban. At the same time, Omar had no intention of loosening his grip on the revolution he had created. All key government officials had either to be nominated or approved by him. Rabbani’s job ultimately was to interpret and implement the orders that now began to stream northwards from Kandahar, where all the important decisions were taken. It was a highly inefficient command and control system that caused tension from the start.
Schooled at a madrasah in the Kandahari village of Pashmol, Rabbani was a former mujahid who had fought the Soviets alongside Omar. He had taken part in the destiny-laden attack on Spin Boldak, and was reputedly an excellent tactician and field officer who still commanded the loyalty of thousands of fighters. Even so, he was no firebrand but a ‘soft, gentle, humble man – the kind who always makes himself “small” in a meeting,’ a contact who knew him told me. He was naturally revered by his mullah peers.
When the Taliban first took Kabul, Rabbani had favoured negotiating a peace with the Northern Alliance government under the auspices of the United Nations. He agreed to a ceasefire, and proposed calling a
jirga
of
ulema
– an assembly of religious scholars – who would thrash out a constitution agreeable to both sides and that would incorporate the Sharia law the Taliban craved. As a sign of good faith he even withdrew the heavy weaponry surrounding Kabul, and might have seen a peace deal through were it not for Omar, who flatly rejected any such proposal. It was almost certainly a Taliban rocket that broke the ceasefire: ‘The moment they turned from liberators into a warring faction just like any of the others that preceded them,’ according to Peter Jouvenal. Whether the rocket was fired on orders from Kandahar is still disputed.Many Afghans insist the ISI had a hand in it, for by this stage of the campaign there were many reports – never verified – of Pakistani military ‘advisers’ among the Taliban ranks. Nevertheless, it was clear enough that the Amir ul-Mu’mineen had no interest in compromising with the warlords of the north.
For Mullah Rabbani, loyalty to the Amir had to come first. He was forced to go back on his word to the United Nations and to the ulema, and to declare that the Taliban would be taking power alone and without consultation. With this move, a rare chance to put an early end to years of internecine strife was lost – or at least that chance was never put to the test. Rabbani died of liver cancer in April 2001.
Mullah Rabbani’s greatest fear was that he might lose control of Kabul, a development that would spell disaster for the Taliban project. Showing any weakness could encourage fresh insurrection from the non-Pashtun community, who were still far from defeated in the north and east of the country. The strength of the Taliban at its inception was that everyone knew each other – a small band of brothers held together by mutual trust and a common goal. Yet by the end of 1996, so many people had joined the cause that its leaders were no longer sure who was actually in their ranks. 1 The certainties of the
This aloof style created a problem for the administration in Kabul before it had even begun to govern. No country is easily ruled from two capitals at once. As the Amir ul-Mu’mineen, Omar considered it his primary role to set the spiritual tone of his revolution; the business of actual government was generally left to others. ‘Everything that happens depends on God,’ he said when he had accepted the leadership in 1994 – and it turned out that he really meant it. Mullah Rabbani was the de facto Prime Minister responsible for the day-to-day running of the government. Since Omarchose not to show himself, Rabbani also became the domestic and international public face of the Taliban. At the same time, Omar had no intention of loosening his grip on the revolution he had created. All key government officials had either to be nominated or approved by him. Rabbani’s job ultimately was to interpret and implement the orders that now began to stream northwards from Kandahar, where all the important decisions were taken. It was a highly inefficient command and control system that caused tension from the start.
Schooled at a madrasah in the Kandahari village of Pashmol, Rabbani was a former mujahid who had fought the Soviets alongside Omar. He had taken part in the destiny-laden attack on Spin Boldak, and was reputedly an excellent tactician and field officer who still commanded the loyalty of thousands of fighters. Even so, he was no firebrand but a ‘soft, gentle, humble man – the kind who always makes himself “small” in a meeting,’ a contact who knew him told me. He was naturally revered by his mullah peers.
When the Taliban first took Kabul, Rabbani had favoured negotiating a peace with the Northern Alliance government under the auspices of the United Nations. He agreed to a ceasefire, and proposed calling a
jirga
of
ulema
– an assembly of religious scholars – who would thrash out a constitution agreeable to both sides and that would incorporate the Sharia law the Taliban craved. As a sign of good faith he even withdrew the heavy weaponry surrounding Kabul, and might have seen a peace deal through were it not for Omar, who flatly rejected any such proposal. It was almost certainly a Taliban rocket that broke the ceasefire: ‘The moment they turned from liberators into a warring faction just like any of the others that preceded them,’ according to Peter Jouvenal. Whether the rocket was fired on orders from Kandahar is still disputed.Many Afghans insist the ISI had a hand in it, for by this stage of the campaign there were many reports – never verified – of Pakistani military ‘advisers’ among the Taliban ranks. Nevertheless, it was clear enough that the Amir ul-Mu’mineen had no interest in compromising with the warlords of the north.
For Mullah Rabbani, loyalty to the Amir had to come first. He was forced to go back on his word to the United Nations and to the ulema, and to declare that the Taliban would be taking power alone and without consultation. With this move, a rare chance to put an early end to years of internecine strife was lost – or at least that chance was never put to the test. Rabbani died of liver cancer in April 2001.
Mullah Rabbani’s greatest fear was that he might lose control of Kabul, a development that would spell disaster for the Taliban project. Showing any weakness could encourage fresh insurrection from the non-Pashtun community, who were still far from defeated in the north and east of the country. The strength of the Taliban at its inception was that everyone knew each other – a small band of brothers held together by mutual trust and a common goal. Yet by the end of 1996, so many people had joined the cause that its leaders were no longer sure who was actually in their ranks. 1 The certainties of the