Courageous must not be forgotten

It’s long been called “the graveyard of empires.” That was true for the British. It was true for the Soviets.

And it rings disturbingly close to truth for the United States.

After nearly two decades of military involvement in Afghanistan, every measure of optimism has to be weighed against two counts of skepticism.

The country’s terrain, its traditions of brutality, its violent history and its willingness to turn its back on the world combine to thwart even the best-intentioned efforts to bring about meaningful change.

So there’s every reason to hold doubts about the long-term success of the latest rounds of diplomatic efforts to find a political solution. But one still clings to hope.

The Trump administration has announced an agreement with the Taliban for a “reduction in violence” for seven days.

It’s unclear how that will be measured, when the seven days begin or whether it will lead to a real cease-fire as the first step toward peace.

Call it a pre-agreement, as some have. But it’s better than no agreement at all.

So it provides a small measure of optimism.

The skepticism rolls in when one considers the Taliban’s entrenched record of cruelty and intolerance.

During the better part of the past 20 years, the U.S. and the West have worked with thousands of Afghan citizens, trying to bring the country into a new era. Interpreters, aid workers, teachers, politicians and Afghan military leaders have pinned their lives and their futures on the West.

They’ve opened schools for girls and they’ve allowed greater freedom for women, two things that strike at the heart of the Taliban’s worldview and twisted version of Islam.

By doing so, they have risked their lives for their country.

Any movement toward a political solution in Afghanistan must put the future safety and security of those individuals as a primary responsibility. Working with the West, these people have put targets on their backs.

They must not be forgotten. — J.R.