I first heard about Abdul Raziq in early 2009, when I was a young freelance journalist newly arrived in southern Afghanistan. By chance, I had befriended two drug smugglers who told me that a powerful police commander in the area was helping them ship two metric tons of opium to Iran each month. Raziq, I learned, had a fearsome reputation in his hometown, Spin Boldak, on the border with Pakistan. Everyone I spoke to knew about the Taliban suspects tortured and dumped in the desert. Just as they knew that Raziq was a close ally of the U.S. military. My smuggler friends had offered to introduce me to Raziq, and 10 days after my arrival in Spin Boldak, he returned to town for his grandmother’s funeral.
When I arrived at Raziq’s compound, I saw him sitting cross-legged on a carpeted platform, receiving a long line of guests. He was not what I expected. Trim and cheerful, clean-shaven and barely 30, he wasn’t much older than I, yet he was leading several thousand men under arms. I reached the front of the line, and Raziq shook my hand to welcome me before turning to the next guest. We would never get the chance to meet again, but that was the beginning of my long quest to understand the paradox he represented.
As inexperienced as I was, I knew enough to be puzzled by Raziq’s success. Why was the U.S. military, which was supposed to be supporting democracy and human rights in Afghanistan, working closely with a drug trafficker and murderer? One of his commanders, his uncle Janan, even wore a U.S. Army uniform given to him by his advisers, complete with a First Infantry Division patch and the Stars and Stripes.
Thanks to American patronage, Raziq was promoted to police chief of Kandahar and would eventually rise to the rank of three-star general. Famous across Afghanistan, he became the country’s most polarizing figure. The Taliban hated him, of course, but so did the ordinary people his commanders and soldiers extorted and abused. Journalists and human rights groups assembled damning evidence against him and warned that his brutality would backfire.