Abstract:
Woe to the children of history. Still exultant four months after the coup
d’état that brought his Marxist party to power in Afghanistan, Nur
Muhammad Taraki could boast to an assembly of army officers that he and
his comrades had been raised to their position by transcendental historical
forces. Fifteen months later, Taraki was dead—assassinated by his own protégé, Hafizullah Amin—and a month after that the Soviet Union landed an
invasion force in Kabul in a vain effort to try to resuscitate Taraki’s faltering revolution with an infusion of troops and military hardware. History, it
would seem, was a harsh and capricious parent. Or perhaps it was Taraki’s
Marxist vision of history that was defective. With every passing year, it is
more difficult to recall or comprehend that as late as 1978 many people still
believed that history had a motive force, that it moved inexorably forward
in progressive, dialectical, even sentient fashion. Though many of his comrades, Hafizullah Amin included, may have had a more cynical take on the
Marxist vision of history, there is good reason to think that Taraki at least
believed this much to be true: that history was moving toward a resolution
and that he was part of the vanguard of that process.
Like all parents, history, in fact, did have lessons to teach, but they were
of a local nature and not the sort of universal lessons that Taraki had in mind
when he spoke in August 1978. There were many such lessons, including
one about how Afghans treat outsiders who try to control their homeland
and another about how they feel when people in authority interfere in their
domestic affairs. And Taraki himself would have benefited, if he had only
listened, from the many tellings and retellings of the stories of rulers who
trusted too much in those around them. Afghan history is replete with
moral tales from which value can be gained. But Afghan children, like all
children, often do not want to listen, and this was certainly the case with the
