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IP: A New Battle Station: A washingtonpost.com article


From: David Farber <dave () farber net>
Date: Thu, 08 Nov 2001 08:42:36 -0500


From: register () washingtonpost com
Date: Thu, 8 Nov 2001 08:39:21 -0500 (EST)
To: dave () farber net
Subject: A washingtonpost.com article from


Dave,

May wish to send this to IP.

Useful contrast between care taken by minimally PR trained, experienced 'spokesman' for Northern Alliance (and its resultant effectiveness in propogancda war) with US Govt's plans to marshall Madison Avenue and Hollywood to get its message out.

To view the entire article, go to http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A51204-2001Nov6.html

A New Battle Station

By Howard Kurtz




>From a sixth-floor balcony in a beige high-rise off North Glebe Road in Arlington, Haron Amin is shouting into his cell phone in Farsi.

No sooner does he finish talking to a U.N. diplomat than a Greek reporter is on the phone, followed by a CNN booker confirming his Larry King appearance. Amin was on "Hardball" the night before and, after hitting the sack for 4 1/2 hours, chatted up Bryant Gumbel on CBS's "Early Show." Next stop is Fox News.

A 32-year-old Afghan who had never dealt much with television, Amin suddenly finds himself in the white-hot media glare as spokesman for the Northern Alliance, the rebel forces battling the Taliban. And despite his calm demeanor and precise, mildly accented English, he is facing a very different battlefield than the one he fought on back home.

"The most important thing I learned is, you end up with three minutes on TV," he says, sipping his morning coffee. "In those three minutes you have to get a message out. How do you bring diplomatic language in the context of sound bites? If you do a dull presentation, you're not going to get the job done."

Like a commander studying the opposing troops, he began conducting a "character study" of television personalities. "Chris Matthews versus someone like Brown, Aaron," the CNN anchor. "Geraldo versus someone like Bob Schieffer. . . . Is he going to give you enough time? Is he going to interrupt you?"

There was more to learn. "When you've got adversaries on the show, to confront them but to always keep the moral high ground."

And the print press was adifferent challenge. "First you give an off-the-record interview, then you say on the record these are the things you can quote me on."

All this has been a crash communications course for a man who fled Afghanistan with his family, spent his teenage years in California, did two stints as a soldier in his homeland and wound up as a United Nations functionary. That changed on Sept. 11.

Intense, charismatic and a tad self-righteous, Amin has become both spinner and symbol, as he has come to recognize.

"How can people see through me a modern Afghanistan?" he wonders. "Me representing this devastated country, this very poor country, and creating a feeling of sympathy." He misses no opportunity to denounce the Taliban and Osama bin Laden.

There is something surreal about Amin influencing the coverage of the world's biggest story from this art-filled Virginia apartment -- an effort that Amin's publicist, Tom Lauria, calls Operation Ragtag.

The two-bedroom apartment belongs to Otilie English, a longtime Northern Alliance lobbyist who is Amin's adviser, friend and self-appointed mother hen.

"You can't hire somebody to do what he does," English says. "When he speaks, he speaks from the heart."

But even fleeting celebrity has its downside during a war on terrorism. Amin is constantly on the move, staying with friends and relatives in the area. A hotel, he says, would be too dangerous.

"Osama is still hunting people down," he says. "You have a lot of Muslims in America who are twisted and want me dead. They're going to be hunting for me sooner or later." But, he says, "my parents and brothers and sisters are more worried than I am."

 The Edward R. Murrow Room is packed.

Hands clasped in front of him, a sober expression beneath his dark, searching eyes, the neatly dressed Amin is facing a bank of 16 television cameras at the National Press Club. American, British, French and Japanese journalists are among those gathered to record his words of wisdom.

He is soft-spoken, polite, scholarly, even when talking about killing people.

"The status of military aid still is not satisfactory. . . . We've asked that the coalition forces ought to aggressively and intensely, and with more frequency, pound Taliban positions," Amin says.

Should the United States commit more ground troops to Afghanistan?

"We strongly believe we have enough fighters on the ground who are competent, who are battle-hardened, who can do the fighting by themselves."

How bad is the hunger problem?

"There's going to be the necessity of the Berlin-style airlift in numerous parts of Afghanistan."

Amin is not just winging it. To prepare for the session, he used his satellite phone to call the Northern Alliance's foreign minister, defense minister and interior minister. (Sometimes it takes an hour or more to get through, usually late at night, since Afghanistan time is 8 1/2 hours ahead.) He settled on the phrase "Berlin-style airlift" -- repeating it twice -- as the hoped-for headline. The sound bite was picked up by "Today" and "NBC Nightly News."

Amin finessed questions about human rights abuses by the Northern Alliance, saying the country was in chaos when the alliance ran Afghanistan in the early 1990s. "Certain issues I wanted to dance around, I was able to dance around," he admits later.

Soon after the news conference, Amin got a call from his brother Farid, the Afghan ambassador to Austria, complimenting his performance. Unbeknownst to Amin, CNN International was carrying the session live.

But making news also means taking some chances. After the Taliban captured and executed opposition leader Abdul Haq late last month, Amin predicted on Fox News -- based solely on a hunch -- that Pakistan's intelligence service had a hand in Haq's betrayal. He felt vindicated when NBC's Andrea Mitchell reported just that.

The media log for Haron (pronounced Haroon) Amin is that of a man in constant demand: Charlie Rose, Ted Koppel, Dan Rather, Sam Donaldson, Bill O'Reilly, Judy Woodruff, Brian Williams. "Face the Nation," "This Week," 18 CNN appearances (including "Crossfire" last night), 12 on Fox, eight on BBC, five on MSNBC, dozens of newspaper interviews. He's also chatted with State Department official Richard Haas and testified before Congress.

The irony is that Amin has long struggled to get the world to pay attention to the cruelty of the Taliban and the danger of bin Laden. Now he's a vital cog in the global media machine. "This kind of attention we wanted for years," he says.

While growing up in Afghanistan, Amin joined anti-Soviet demonstrations after the 1979 invasion of his country and helped distribute leaflets against the invaders. His father, a wealthy businessman, was jailed for a time by the new regime. The family, including Amin's six brothers and two sisters, soon moved to Pakistan, then Germany, then California. Haron, who was 14, began learning English.

Otilie English recalls him as a teenager: "He was young, innocent, kind of gangly and very gung-ho. He had a puppy-like quality but at the same time this dead-steel seriousness."

After graduating high school in 1988, Amin decided he had "an Islamic duty" to return to Afghanistan and fight the Soviets. "He was an ambitious guy from the beginning," says his brother Nadin Amin, now a California businessman. "All along he wanted to do something for the country."

When Haron told the family of his plans, Nadin replied: "Very good."

"What if I get killed?"

"You will be martyred."

"I wish my parents could say something like this," Amin said. His parents, who had hoped he would go to law or medical school, were understandably nervous.

Life was rough when he joined his idol, Northern Alliance commander Ahmed Shah Massoud. There were 18-hour treks through the mountains in freezing temperatures, with little to eat. Amin felt sick, sometimes vomited, but he persevered. He was struck by shrapnel while crossing a river, causing a major foot laceration.

For his 20th birthday, Amin bribed someone to get a can of a Swedish orange drink called Sisi. It occurred to him more than once that he could be living the good life as a California college student.

"It was a time for me to discover true values," Amin says. "You get wrapped up in a material world: How large is your house? How luxurious is your car? What clothes are you wearing? I learned that sacrifice is the most important thing."

When the Soviets finally pulled out, Amin came to Washington as chief liaison for Massoud, who was now part of the government. But in 1995, after earning a political science degree at the University of California's Riverside campus, he rejoined Massoud to battle the Taliban in a raging civil war. Within months, Amin was dispatched to join the Afghan delegation at the United Nations. On the day he left, Taliban forces seized Kabul.

Abdul Rahim Ghafoorza, who became prime minister of the government-in-exile, named Amin director general, a sort of communications chief, in 1997. From his new base in Mazar-e-Sharif, Amin and his new boss traveled constantly together, from Russia to India to France to New York and back again. That summer, bogged down with paperwork, Amin missed one flight. The plane crashed, killing Ghafoorza and four Cabinet members. Amin was devastated.

The Northern Alliance sent him to New York, where he became part of a make-believe government. He and his colleagues in the U.N. delegation were officially recognized by the United States and all but three countries around the world, even though the Taliban ruled most of Afghanistan. He put out press releases, wrote speeches for visiting dignitaries and served on various committees. Many people told him it was a lost cause, but Amin refused to believe it.

Amin would ride the express bus from his home in Queens, using the time to do his homework for his night classes at St. John's University, where he is one research paper short of a master's in political science. And, despite his modest salary, he enjoyed such American pleasures as frequenting Starbucks for a grande latte. He felt twinges of jealousy toward an Afghan friend with a beautiful hilltop home in Malibu. But in some ways he felt richer.

This placid interlude did not last. On Sept. 9, Massoud, Amin's longtime mentor, was killed by suicide bombers. Two days later, the twin towers fell. Amin was immediately ordered to Washington. He packed three suits and a few shirts, but with air travel shut down and train service difficult, he had to wait for English to make the drive to New York.

Those who work with him are amazed at his stamina. "There's a lot of pressure on him, definitely," says Nadin Amin. "He works 16 to 17 hours a day. But he thinks this will ultimately bring peace to Afghanistan."

Confrontational television is part of American showbiz. Producers love orchestrated conflict. The more you're on, the more likely you are to come under rhetorical fire.

When Amin appeared on Wolf Blitzer's CNN show last month, he got into a dust-up with Nasim Ashraf of the Pakistani-American Political Action Committee. Ashraf argued that "to restore order to Afghanistan, the power would have to be taken out of the hands of the military commanders, such as those of the Northern Alliance."

"Well," Amin shot back, "the leader of Pakistan himself is the leader of the military junta, and for him it's very unseemly as a statesperson to insinuate any inflammatory remarks about Afghanistan. This is our issue. Tell Pakistan to keep away from it."

Amin was pleased, feeling he made his point without sounding "vicious" or "brutal." The question, he says, is "how do you take these questions that are very bitter and transform them into gaining sympathy from the host, and the audience."

His least successful outing was what he calls "the Lester stunt." During an interview with MSNBC's Lester Holt, a producer told him in his ear that they would shortly be breaking away for a Rudy Giuliani news conference.

"I started shooting at the speed of light," Amin recalls, leaving Holt no opportunity to interrupt. "I put four different issues into one interview. It was too much because you lose the audience."

Haron Amin, it is clear, likes to talk. Even after a full day of interviews and diplomacy, he stays up late, hashing things over with local Afghans.

After last week's House International Relations Committee hearing, Amin was lingering to gab with lawmakers when English grabbed him for an appointment at CNBC. "He will sit and talk for hours with someone," she says. "Sometimes I have to say, 'Sorry, this person is more important than that person,' and he gets upset with me."

In true American fashion, Amin has achieved a modicum of fame. To his surprise, some customers recently stopped him at the Barnes &#38; Noble in Georgetown. Said one: "You're the Northern Alliance guy, right?"




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