Ms Joya and the Jihadis

"In my opinion, they should be taken to the World Court."

Two grand-scale contests grabbed my attention here in Kabul last week - one in a vast white tent, the other in an even bigger outdoor arena. The tented struggle is deciding Afghanistan's new constitution. That wishful fancy collapsed on Day 4 when a young woman from a distant province gave the jirga a jolt. Twenty-five-year-old social worker Malalai Joya dared to denounce the jihadis - this country's most sacrosanct political group.

"Jihadis" is the new term for mujahedeen, fighters who won Afghanistan's holy war against communism (1979-1992) but then began fighting each other. In four short years (1992-1996) they squandered victory, blew their own capital city to bits, and reduced its populace to such desperation that even the Taliban (1996-2001) seemed preferable. Any peace, however harsh, was better than jihadi chaos.

Sept. 11 restored jihadi fortunes. Operation Enduring Freedom's rout of the Taliban (2001) could not have happened without jihadi support. For the past two years jihadis have been very much back in business as regional warlords, religious conservatives and ambiguous allies of our Pentagon in pursuing Osama bin Laden. They thrive on stockpiled weaponry, pious sentiment, extorted money and carefully crafted myth - simultaneously saviors and wreckers of their country. Their legitimate usefulness may have waned, but their power hasn't. Nor has their reputation for corruption, hypocrisy, and brutal abuse. Most ordinary Afghans hold them in fearful, whispered contempt.

Malalai Joya did more than whisper. Infuriated that jihadis were being given key Loya Jirga roles, she grabbed the mike and denounced them as "criminals" and "the main factors who led this country towards crisis and civil war." As the audience sat stunned, she added, "In my opinion, they should be taken to the World Court."

Afghans don't stay stunned for long. Suddenly, as the saying goes, this heretofore staid Loya Jirga "became a buzkashi" - the wild, equestrian, "goat-grabbing" game of Central Asia and a metaphor for mayhem. Shouting "God is Great," some jihadi delegates rushed the platform; others made for Malalai. Cries of "communist" and "atheist" filled the hall. The aged Loya Jirga chairman, himself a former jihadi leader, called Malalai's remarks "astounding" and ordered her to leave. Surrounded by other women in their gender-separate section, she stood her ground. The old man then demanded an apology; the young woman refused. Bewildered and desperate to save face, the chairman accepted "the apologies of others."

Amnesty International reports death threats. The female delegates' dormitory was stalked that very evening by jihadis yelling - you guessed it - "God is great." United Nations personnel guard Malalai during assembly sessions, then whisk her away to undisclosed sleeping quarters. Responding to press curiosity, a suave U.N. spokesman got it unarguably right: "I am afraid I will not be able to disclose to you details of security measures taken, otherwise they are no longer security measures."

My driver Nazir is more incisive than suave. He reveres the anti-Soviet jihad but despises modern jihadis. Daily on the way to work, we pass an area where jihadis have seized state land from the poor in order to build rich villas. Nazir, like thousands of Kabulis, lost his home during the jihadi era. His take on Malalai Joya? The admiring Afghan equivalent of "You go, girl!"

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