The American adventure in Afghanistan has reached an obvious crossroads, and debate over what course to take has ignited widespread buyer’s remorse over the military response to 9/11. A November 17, 2009 poll conducted by the Washington Post even went so far as to ask Americans whether the Afghanistan War has been worth fighting, an unthinkable question in 2002 or 2003, when patriotic zeal broadly characterized the nation’s mood. A majority of respondents answered the question in the negative, drawing on two widely propagated notions. The first is that the consequences of not fighting the war are less severe than the consequences of prolonged engagement, and the second is that America cannot avoid the consequences of pulling out by staying in—that America cannot win in Afghanistan.

Examining these notions, however, reveals the former to be based on wishful thinking and misperception, and the latter on tautological reasoning. America can achieve its objectives in Afghanistan—provided that policymakers calibrate them to the situation on the ground. American troops drove the Taliban out of the country in 2001: even the Taliban know they cannot regain control of the state while American forces remain in sufficient number to oppose them. The United States has not “won” in Afghanistan for two reasons: on the one hand, mismanagement of the campaign allowed Mullah Omar’s forces time to regroup, and on the other, a lack of commitment to the war gave the Taliban an opportunity to launch an insurgency. Those who say the war is not winnable assume that neither problem is correctable; those who know the war can be won realize that our tactics need only catch up to our capabilities.

These problems can only be corrected, however, if the American public grants its leaders broad support for their efforts. Afghanistan is not a war of attrition, but of ideas. If even Americans are not sure if they offer Afghans more than the Taliban, how can they expect Afghans to support their aims? If Americans do not see something valuable in our efforts in Afghanistan, then the Taliban has already won. And that is not acceptable.

To address why, one needs only to look at the possible consequences of a Taliban victory in Afghanistan. Two widespread misconceptions taint Americans’ abilities to understand the importance of this struggle, and after dispelling them, a dire picture grips any rational observer.

First, the misperception exists that the Taliban fight for limited aims: that they seek “merely” political dominion over Afghanistan. This belief underestimates the vision of the Deobandi school of Islam closely linked to the Taliban hierarchy. No one can purport to know the mind of Mullah Omar or other Taliban leaders, but anyone can look to their past actions to understand their goals. During the rise of the Taliban in the mid-nineties, Mullah Omar donned the “Cloak of the Prophet”—a religious relic from the first days of Islamic Expansion that confers the title of “Commander of the Faithful” on the wearer—and, with encouragement from Osama bin Laden, outlined a plan for an Islamic Emirate stretching across Central Asia. These men do not fight just to force “infidels” from “Muslim” lands, but under the principle that the entire world should be governed by their interpretation of Islamic Law. This view similar to one advocated by Syed Abul A’ala Maududi, postulates, at best, an ideal world much like the early Caliphates—non-Mus

lims are to be untroubled, but without a voice in governance or law. At worst, the success of the global jihad hints at mass conversion by the sword.

Let us not demonize Islam, or overestimate the strength of this ideology. Few Muslims actively believe in such a radical interpretation of their faith. The paramount truth that Americans must understand, however, is that this war does not end with a Taliban victory in Afghanistan. The war does not stop there for these radicals, and if America should learn anything from 9/11, it is that combining this ideology with the apparatuses of state leads to a sanctuary for those who want to wipe America off the map.

Americans ignore an important corollary to this point by accepting a second false premise about the constitution of the Taliban: namely, that it is an “Afghan” nationalist movement. The Taliban are nationalists, but of a different sort. Afghanistan, despite the wars that have destroyed the country in the last 30 years, remains a blend of ethnic groups and cultural traditions, all with different political views and ways of life. The Taliban only represent some of one group among this complex and diverse polity, the Pashtun tribes. Pashtuns are not the majority—they make up 42 percent of the Afghan population—and in this heterogeneous society, allowing an exclusionary group to dominate the state invites human rights abuses on the level of Sudan (another titularly “Islamic” state that harbored bin Laden).

Pashtun nationalism rests on the notion that the divided Pashtun tribes deserve their own state. This “Pashtunistan,” would encompass the territory of the historical Durrani Empire, and includes much of Pakistan. Irrespective of the views of individual Pashtun nationalists, this desire remains uncompromising and irreconcilable in the broader movement—since two-thirds of all Pashtuns live in Pakistan, the “nationalist” furor cannot die as they languish separate from their co-ethnics. This motive is not overstated—in the 60 plus years since the founding of Pakistan, no Afghan leader has even recognized the border between the two nations. Furthermore, Pashtuns on the Pakistani side of the border work with the Taliban and against Pakistani and coalition forces in large numbers. Essentially, a US defeat leaves Pakistan alone to contend with the Taliban menace on their border. Pakistan’s status as a nuclear power raises the stakes incalculably; the very real possibility of Taliban forces compromising a Pakistani nuclear facility threatens peace-loving people everywhere. Examining the recent attacks by the Taliban on Pakistani targets—a training site for Pakistani Intelligence officers, a police academy, and various military installations—displays without room for argument the Taliban’s willingness to directly fight the Pakistani state.

A US withdrawal spells victory for the Taliban, and the aims of a potential Taliban state are incompatible with a secure country, region, or world. A violently expansive Taliban regime founded on repression and rights abuses, with the very real possibility of acquiring nuclear arms and harboring terrorists, is the single scariest thing this author can think of. Trying to analyze the policy of such a state as a “rational actor” ignores something Americans said they’d never forget—Taliban compliance with 9/11 displays an arrogance and certainty that cannot be bargained with. This is not “fear-mongering”—none of these consequences are inevitable or certain. If, however, Americans cannot justify intervention in Afghanistan on the basis of establishing a democratic regime in a country often treated as a chessboard for superpower politics by the US and others, perhaps they offer a compelling self-interest. Americans must remember that these reasons provided the rationale for our invasion in the first place— and remember, just as importantly, that the US largely succeeded in securing the country in the first years after the invasion. What undermined the perceived success of the US and its allies in the early years of the war is exactly the same enemy most dangerous to the effort today: a lack of commitment.

The lack of commitment to this war manifested itself in strategic blunders. The US did not spend enough money or provide enough “boots on the ground” to secure the Afghan state it had established—and often showed no faith in that government. The US and other donor nations failed to work with the state, and decided to work around it: not only did the US thus admit its failure to establish functional government, it also displayed an amazing lack of concern at that failure. The perception that the US does not care about Afghanistan is the best recruiting poster for the Taliban. By sitting on the fence, the US deters potential allies from collaborating or becoming invested in our objectives. Why should they, if we are not?

Specific policy recommendations, therefore, are not worth debating until the American public understands that this is a war worth fighting. The costs will be high, and have been high—but victory is possible. The United States has better ideas to fight for than the Taliban: tolerance and free exchange must trump fanaticism and inflexibility. Our military, properly resourced, is equal to the task. The Afghan government, properly aided, can become the instrument of its people. Afghans, properly supported, will choose true self-determination over the repression they endured for half a decade at the hands of the Taliban. Evil can only succeed when good men do nothing—but evil will always triumph when good men give in to apathy. That is the single most important decision Americans will make to determine the course of this war. We have the best hand—can we trust ourselves enough to actually go “all-in”?