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The headlights shone on a mud-brick compound as Bismallah Khan, head of the Afghan National Guard, stepped out of his car. Khan was taking a few steps toward the compound when Mustafa Faizi, 39, emerged from the structure. After exchanging a few pleasantries, Khan asked Faizi if he was armed. No, Faizi explained, but there were some weapons inside. "What's going on here?" Khan asked. "You can see what's going on," Faizi replied. Nothing more needed to be said. Khan reached into his jacket and pulled out an arrest warrant personally signed by Afghan President Hamid Karzai and his Culture minister, Seyed Makhdoom Rahin. The charge? Illegal digging with an intent to traffic in antiquities.
Since the Taliban's fall last November, Afghan artifacts have become one of the country's most profitable, albeit illegal, exports. Smuggling networks first took root during the mujahedin rule in the early 1990s and continued under the Taliban--when they weren't busy blowing up the massive Bamiyan Buddhas or smashing statues at the Kabul Museum. Now there is political will to halt the trafficking, but widespread lawlessness in the countryside makes the task difficult, if not impossible. "Smuggling has increased dramatically since the time of the Taliban," says Jim Williams, a senior program specialist for UNESCO. The Karzai government, strapped for cash, can't afford to police the hundreds of archeological sites dotting the country. Many of the provincial authorities, who have yet to receive a paycheck from Kabul, are suspected of collaborating with tomb raiders to line their pockets. Like most Afghans, these local officials are struggling with the challenges of the present--food shortages, poor health care and a dismal economy. But, if the smuggling goes on unchecked, when the country does get back on its feet it may realize that it's already lost large parts of its past.
The smugglers' motive isn't hard to understand. "The soil of this country is one of the richest in the world in terms of archeological remains," says Culture Minister Rahin. Take Kafir Kot, a 2,000-year-old ancient city and fortress in southern Logar province: the site sprawls across 25 square kilometers of hilly terrain, which is used by locals today for grazing ground. The Ministry of Culture got a tip earlier this year that the landscape was being combed over by profiteers. Local farmers, who may have been working with the looters, had kept quiet. After none of UNESCO's member countries volunteered to help excavate the ruins, armed guards were dispatched to protect the site. But it was already too late. So much illegal digging has taken place that the low hills around Kafir Kot, pockmarked by raiders' holes, now look like a beehive. In one abandoned chamber, the legs of a large Buddha statue, which may have been up to six meters high, have been chipped away by amateur diggers. Mohammed Zahir Seddiqi, 55, the Ministry of Culture representative for Logar province, says it's impossible to estimate the loss from the site. (In fact, the Ministry of Culture officially refuses to estimate the value of smuggled artifacts for fear that placing a price tag on the practice will encourage the trade.) One item carted off by the raiders, a golden sculpture of a horse and chariot, was priceless, says Seddiqi. Even the guards there, who haven't been paid since being posted, occasionally give in to temptation. On the day NEWSWEEK visited Kafir Kot, one of the guards offered to sell a piece of pottery emblazoned with a female figure wearing a crown.
Artifact smugglers run their operations much like the country's drug lords. Smuggling ...