I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when I agreed to take part in the Foreign and Commonwealth Office’s (FCO) trip to Afghanistan. I’m not sure I was expecting to sit next to an ex-member of the Taliban nibbling canapes, nor have lunch with 100 ex Mujahadeen soldiers at the Governor Atta’s palatial residence, nor spend an afternoon climbing over tanks at Camp Souter -but one thing’s for sure, this was a trip that challenged me both mentally and physically.

The FCO sent five of us out to Afghanistan on the ‘Projecting British Islam’ programme, an eight-day trip to meet various government and religious groups, as well as troops and locals. This was meant to be an opportunity for us to engage with locals and to understand what had happened, and what is happening, in a country ravaged by war and with a history of conflict.

Our delegation was headed by the affable MP Sadiq Khan, human rights barrister Yasmin Qureshi, founder of the Ebrahim College Maulana Mushfique Uddin, and Mustafa Suleyman, chair of Muslim Youth Helpline. Before heading out, I did have some concerns about the concept of the project - what did the FCO mean by the term ‘British Islam’ and why did it need to be projected in Afghanistan anyway? -but I could understand how British representatives of Muslim faith could potentially engage in more meaningful and direct dialogue with Muslim Afghanis. A Muslim-to-Muslim discussion could be more honest and open, I thought. Surely religion would be our common ground?

Most people will equate Afghanistan with the extreme end of religion. But while they feel very strongly about Islam, all the Afghans we met were keen to tell us that the radical Islam preached by the Taliban was not ‘their’ Islam. Afghans feel very strongly about their religion, and in a country whose history pivots on its faith, it is inevitable that there is widespread religious education taking place, either through the dedicated seminary stream or as a compliment to mainstream education. But just as the West may have its own misperceptions of ‘extremist’ religion in Afghanistan, Afghans too have their own misconceptions of religion in Britain.

At the University of Education – Kabul’s main teacher training port – we were asked by students about the existence of an inaccurate Quran which they had heard was being produced by ‘The West.’ This Western version of the Quran, said the students, was being distributed to Muslims in the West, in a deliberate attempt to steer them away from the Right Path and to teach them a miscreant version of Islam.

Students at Kabul’s University of Education genuinely believe that this ‘distorted’ Quran exists, when in reality it’s just a myth. But in a country where access to information is limited, where you can’t just sit on the internet and read articles and discussions and source fact from fiction (the average home only gets two hours of electricity a day –it’s doubtful that this will be spent online) then such myths quickly become truths - and more worryingly can form the basis of justifying a negative mindset.

In some ways, it is easier to tackle the extreme end of extremism than it is to shatter these myths – it’s easier to identify for one thing. But there is a gap in the educational system that needs to be filled to educate the more moderate end of Afghan society too.

It’s for the Afghan government to take a lead on this issue and to ensure that educational institutions provide well rounded education (a system of bilateral learning, where the acquisition of religious knowledge is mirrored with a modern-day skill set, for instance) which could prevent the expounding of myths which start off harmlessly enough but can just as easily turn into a much bigger problem.

Separating fact from fiction sounds more simple than it really is, especially when novels about the plight of imprisoned Afghan woman capture the imaginations of the West. The Afghan women that I met wanted to make waves, on their own terms and in their own words. They see no reason why they shouldn’t achieve their own potential, or why their younger generation shouldn’t be encouraged to do the same.

Over breakfast with female parliamentarians, human rights advisors and those involved in democracy and democratisation, we heard first hand experiences of women who had risen through the ranks. These were beautiful, passionate and highly intelligent, articulate women who were optimistic about the future of Afghanistan. These were women who had seen the struggle and destruction of the Soviet invasion, had survived through the worse of the civil unrest and had been at the receiving end of the harshest measures of the Taliban regime. But all this conflict had not broken their spirit, it had strengthened it. Their past has undoubtedly shaped their present. ‘But what of their future?’ I wondered. I put this to Hangama Anwari, commissioner at the Afghanistan Independent Human Rights Commission. She smiled and surprised me with her response. The biggest obstacle, she said, that she faces is that her success as a professional woman is seen as an affront to Islamic values. Of course, she told me, this isn’t true (misconceptions aside, there is nothing factually in Islam to stop a woman from working or being successful, for instance). But how best to tackle the reverse rhetoric coming from religious quarters?

Her answer: more religious education. “Just imagine” she said to me, “if we could use verses from the Qur’an to justify what we are doing rather than relying on emotion or western principles of equality”. According to Anwari, what women in Afghanistan need is specific religious education for women about women and their rights in Islam. This would enable them to enter into the debate on a woman’s place in the world from an informed level and empower them to know where they stand. I’m not sure if this would work but it certainly seems to me to be an option worth exploring further.

In the light of all this talk of religion, it’s bemusing to switch to the complete opposite: drugs. Narcotics, poverty and insurgency are an unholy trinity in this county, and both the Afghan Government and the international community are working hard to find a lasting solution

There is a culture of drug cultivation and drug use in Afghanistan which has been strengthened by its troubled past. It has always been relatively easy to grow poppy; the land not only lends itself to the industry, but the organisation and infrastructure of the drug barons mean that for many it is a consistent method of earning their livelihood. In a constantly unstable environment, stability of income is understandably attractive. The current instability makes growing other crops largely untenable – by the time farmers factor in the bribes to be paid at every checkpoint and the risk of being ambushed (or worse) en route to market on top of the ordinary costs of production, there’s no profit left to speak of.

But the problem is not only one of production; it’s also one of use and supply. We visited the 20 bed residential drug clinic funded by the British Government in Mazar-e-Sharif where we were told about the complex and long term work that needed to be done to both rehabilitate drug users and curb the start of the next generation of addicts. With just 20 beds, the service was plainly inadequate to meet the needs of the large numbers of drug addicts. The clinic had facilities for men, women and children, and we learnt that in vitro drug addiction was a wide spread problem rooted in cultural acceptability. The preventative work included educating children in schools and the wider population through the mosques and community networks. But in a country where there is no easy access to information and learning, the task of breaking habits is a hugely challenging one.

Meanwhile, at the other end of the spectrum, there is a dedicated system of investigating drug crimes, taking individuals through the justice system and penalising convicts. The service is undertaken by the Criminal Justice Task Force (CJTF) with its own dedicated court room and holding cells. We were told about the success stories of individuals tried and brought to justice for supplying drugs, but unsurprisingly for a system in its infancy, these were not large scale catches, and the well organised drug barons were always in sight, but never in hand. The CJTF undoubtedly is doing a noble and important job, but it’s a very small step in the grand scheme of things, especially when the big fish are not only swimming, but often doing so in Government waters.  

Overall, there’s a buzz word going round development quarters about the future and the philosophy of development here. It’s Afghanisation. It’s a ghastly word, but it explains the development model adopted by the British in legitimising and enhancing Afghan institutions to provide services for the Afghan people. International aid is essential, but it’s also important that Afghans have faith in their own government. That’s why the British plough 80% of their aid package through the Afghan Government. Unlike other countries, the British tend not brand their projects and the union jack doesn’t cover their efforts. The upshot is that when Afghans see services being delivered by their Government it increases their confidence which in turn increases stability. The down side is many ordinary Afghans don’t see what the British contribute here, and neither do the British public.

It’s a tricky balancing act and on balance I’m confident that the British approach is correct, and that long term objectives trump short term victories, but it’s also important to ensure that the efforts of the British are recognised. In order for Afghans to see the utility of the British presence, they have to be able to identify it. Most Afghans are quick to tell you about the new airport terminal funded by the Japanese, or the new hospital being built by the Germans but ask them what the British have done and you’re met by an uncomfortable silence. They know we are doing something, but their not quite sure what it is. To that end, it’s really helpful that the soldiers at Camp Souter undertake a daily foot patrol, mixing with the locals and engaging with them in a non threatening fashion. Of all the ISAF forces, they are the only troops to do so, and it breaks down the barriers between Afghans and the various dimensions of the British presence in Afghanistan.

There’s a similar problem back home where the newspaper are largely uninterested in the work being done in Afghanistan as a whole. The violence and insurgency in Helmand Province is sexy. The improvement of the lives of ordinary Afghans isn’t.  Maybe it’s time for us to put aside that British reserve and get the message out there of what is actually being done in Afghanistan. Whilst it’s all very British to be the unsung heroes, the support of the British people is essential to ensure the long term commitment to aid in Afghanistan and the taxpayer can’t be blamed for not supporting something he knows little or nothing about.

Reflecting back, it was a physically exhausting and mentally challenging trip to Afghanistan but the exchange of information and ideas has been invaluable. I do hope that in some small way we have been able to break down a few of the stereotypes and misconceptions that exist about Britain. The ex-Taliban member I sat next to at a NGO reception, who had long since defected and now works for the Asia Foundation, told me that ‘‘Afghan hospitality runs through our blood, and we will always protect and look after our guests”. He added “In our past, this hospitality has caused us some big problems, but you are very welcome”. Whilst I didn’t share his analysis, I couldn’t help but smile. We received a warm welcome wherever we went. There’s something about being so far away from home that makes you feel all the more British. For me, meeting the troops in Afghanistan and hearing about their work not only in the intensive combat regions of the South, but also in the more stable Kabul made me very proud to be British.

We were part of a coalition present at the request of the Afghan government, and were there to help build up the Afghan Army and Afghan National Police and help bring security and stability to a country that has seen little of either in its recent history. If the presence of a collection of successful individuals – who have achieved not in spite of being Muslim, not because of being Muslim but simply have achieved and are Muslim – helps to breakdown some of the myths propagated about the West, then that’s no bad thing and it’s an objective I wholeheartedly endorse.

Afghanistan is a beautiful, diverse and challenging country at an enormously complicated juncture in its history. I hope that one day we will look back and be proud of the involvement that the British have had in shaping its future. The job is not done, and whatever happens next Britain cannot and should not forget it’s commitment to the Afghan people.