In Chapter 3, Mamdani provides an in-depth analysis of how the US-backed Afghan jihad of the 1980s transformed global political Islam, fueled terrorism, and deeply destabilized both Afghanistan and Pakistan, with long-lasting implications across the Muslim world. Mamdani begins with Eqbal Ahmad’s recollection of President Reagan praising Afghan mujahideen as “the moral equivalents of America’s founding fathers” (119). This symbolic moment marks the US strategy to weaponize radical political Islam against the Soviet Union. Following its defeat in Vietnam and setbacks in Nicaragua and Iran, the US viewed the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan as an opportunity for strategic “payback” (124). Under Reagan, this turned into the largest CIA paramilitary operation since Vietnam, with Afghanistan becoming the bloodiest Cold War battleground.

The 1979 Iranian Revolution altered American perceptions of political Islam. Previously, political Islam had been seen as a bulwark against secular nationalism (as with support for Islamists in Egypt, Pakistan, and Indonesia), but the Iranian Revolution revealed a variant that was both anti-Communist and anti-American. The US reacted by deepening alliances with secular authoritarian regimes like Saddam Hussein’s Iraq, even supporting Iraq’s use of chemical weapons against Iran. Mamdani reveals that US aid to Afghan rebels actually began before the Soviet invasion, intended to provoke Soviet military involvement. This early intervention marked a shift from containment to rollback, a strategy spearheaded by hardliners like Richard Perle. The CIA partnered closely with Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), prioritizing radical Islamist groups over moderate or nationalist Afghan factions. The ideological goal: “killing Russians” (124).

As US and Saudi aid flooded in, the region became a hub for global Islamist mobilization. Volunteers from across the Muslim world flocked to Pakistan, where they trained in ISI-run camps that emphasized religious war and martyrdom. Influential figures like Sheikh Abdullah Azzam, a mentor to Osama bin Laden and a CIA asset, became global recruiters for jihad. Azzam’s message of “no negotiations, no conferences, no dialogues” (127) reflected the radical aims of the Afghan jihad. Mamdani distinguishes between historical traditions of jihad as just wars (e.g., against Crusaders or colonizers) and the modern Wahhabi-inspired notion of permanent jihad, which targeted fellow Muslims deemed heretical. This latter interpretation, heavily associated with Saudi Arabia and endorsed by the CIA, shaped the character of the Afghan jihad. 

With the US casting the war as an international crusade, the CIA shifted from relying on Afghan fighters to recruiting Muslim volunteers worldwide. These foreign fighters—named “Afghan-Arabs” (131)—received elite training and were organized into an “Islamic foreign legion” (138). The CIA’s attempt to find a Saudi prince to lead the jihad failed, so they backed Osama bin Laden, whose family was deeply connected to the Saudi elite. Bin Laden helped build the Khost tunnel complex for the mujahideen, a facility later targeted by US missiles during the Invasion of Afghanistan by the United States. To further their goals in Afghanistan, the US, particularly through the CIA, funded and enabled the Afghan mujahideen with little concern for the long-term consequences. Despite warnings from figures like Dr. David Musto about supporting drug traffickers (as had happened in Laos) American officials prioritized defeating the Soviets over preventing the growth of a heroin economy. The local drug lords became “readily available and dependable allies” (141). The CIA overlooked or even facilitated a vast narcotics trade, which eventually transformed the Afghanistan-Pakistan border into the world’s leading heroin production region. Funds for the jihad came both from US and Saudi sources and from internally generated drug revenues, with heroin labs operating under Pakistani military protection and distribution aided by state resources.

The CIA’s chief ally, Gulbuddin Hikmatyar, received the bulk of American aid despite his brutal tactics, radical ideology, and dominance in the drug trade. His reign extended beyond the battlefield into refugee camps, where he ruled through violence and terror. Mamdani uses this example to show how US policy consistently favored radical Islamists over moderate forces, not for ideological alignment, but because they were effective anti-Communist fighters. The result was a legacy of violence, lawlessness, and narcotics that outlived the Cold War, demonstrating the dangerous blowback of such foreign interventions.

Mamdani next explores the far-reaching consequences of the Afghan jihad, particularly through the operations of the Bank of Credit and Commerce International (BCCI). BCCI, founded by Pakistani tycoon Agha Hassan Abedi, played a central role in financing the privatized jihad, often working with intelligence agencies such as the CIA. Though ostensibly a legitimate bank, BCCI operated with little regulatory oversight and was eventually exposed as “the largest bank fraud in New York financial history” (146), with $9.5 billion missing. Despite clear evidence of its corrupt practices and connections to terrorism and drug money laundering, US and British institutions (including the CIA and Bank of England) shielded BCCI, likely due to its usefulness in covert operations. The bank became a hub for global clandestine financing, including funding for jihadist groups, nuclear weapons initiatives, and CIA operations.

The Afghan jihad deeply impacted Pakistan, turning the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI) into a dominant power center under Zia ul-Haq’s Islamization project. Jihadi groups like Lashkar-i-Tayyaba and Harkat ul-Ansar emerged under ISI patronage, extending jihad to Kashmir. This militarization fostered sectarian violence and fueled a massive drug epidemic, with heroin addiction skyrocketing. Even after the Afghan war ended, the jihadi infrastructure and its destabilizing effects on Pakistani society endured.

The CIA’s support for the Afghan jihad during the Cold War favored ideological Islamists over traditional nationalist Muslim groups, deeply fragmenting Afghan resistance. Seven mujahideen groups existed, divided by regional, ethnic, and doctrinal lines. While Afghan society had historically managed its diversity through decentralization, US and Pakistani interventions exacerbated divisions, promoting radical Islamist ideologies. The US, aiming to counter Soviet influence and the Iranian Revolution, aligned with Pakistan and Saudi Arabia, enabling the spread of anti-Shia Sunni doctrines like Wahhabism and Deobandism. This alignment marginalized traditionalist-nationalist groups in favor of radical Islamists, especially Gulbuddin Hikmatyar’s Hizb-i-Islami, which received the bulk of CIA funding despite its limited guerrilla activity and ties to drug trafficking. Efforts at unifying the resistance failed, often undermined by corruption or geopolitical interests. After the Soviet withdrawal in 1989, the conflict devolved into a civil war among Islamist factions. As Hikmatyar lost ground, Pakistan shifted support to the Taliban, a movement born from “students [Pakistan] had trained since 1980 in madrassahs” (159). Initially welcomed for restoring order, including by American officials, the Taliban soon brutalized Afghan society. Rooted in modern geopolitical manipulation, not traditional Afghan Islam, the Taliban’s rise marked the tragic outcome of Cold War ideologies imposed on a decentralized, pluralistic culture.

Fighters who trained in Afghanistan returned to their home countries with shared militant experiences, but they depended on local grievances to gain support. Unlike crime, terrorism is political and relies on public backing; governments that wish to combat terrorism must address root causes, not just apply military solutions. As such, an “international jihadi vanguard” (163) was created. In Algeria, the Islamic Salvation Front (FIS) won democratic elections in 1991, alarming the secular elite and prompting the army to cancel the vote. This move sparked a brutal civil war between Islamists and the military. Within the Islamist camp, a divide emerged between those who favored political participation and extremists in groups like the Armed Islamic Group (GIA), who advocated armed jihad. Many GIA leaders were Afghan war veterans who introduced violent tactics such as massacres, beheadings, and terror against civilians, borrowed from their experiences in Afghanistan. These veterans included notorious figures like Kamerredin Kherbane and Aisa Messaoudi, whose actions escalated the civil conflict.

In Egypt, Islamist politics evolved from the reformist Muslim Brotherhood to radical jihadism under the influence of Sayyid Qutb. The state’s alliance with the US during the Afghan jihad deepened Islamist disillusionment, especially after President Anwar Sadat’s peace with Israel. Leaders like Ayman al-Zawahri joined forces with Osama bin Laden in Peshawar, helping lay the groundwork for al-Qaeda. Returning Afghan-Egyptian fighters brought back brutal tactics, exemplified in the 1997 Luxor massacre of tourists. These fighters had been trained not only in combat but in strategic sabotage, including terror against civilians and the use of rape and kidnapping, euphemized as “marriages of convenience” (169).

Mamdani explores the “schism” (170) between society-centered Islamists, who balance justice (jihad) with legal reasoning (ijtihad) and popular participation, and state-centered Islamists, who distrust democratic processes and prioritize seizing state power. The latter position, hardened during the Cold War, gave rise to terrorist elements who rejected both popular engagement and state legitimacy. Mamdani emphasizes that Islamist terrorism should not be conflated with radical Islamism. Movements like Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood and Lebanon’s Hizbullah began as reformist, political projects seeking social justice and national self-determination. While they sometimes employed violence, they did not adopt terror as a long-term strategy. Hizbullah, for instance, emerged as a response to Israel’s 1982 invasion and, after initial militancy, gradually embraced electoral politics and secular dialogue, including cross-sectarian alliances.

The comparison with Algeria and Iran reveals different trajectories. In Algeria, a military crackdown on the electoral victory of the Islamic Salvation Front (FIS) led to brutal conflict and derailed democratization. In contrast, Iran’s Islamic regime, despite initial repression, allowed internal contestation that led to increased political participation and women’s rights. Mamdani also differentiates conservative Islamist statism—like that of Pakistan under Zia, the Taliban, or the Saudi monarchy—from transnational jihadist terrorism, such as al-Qaeda. Unlike state-centered movements confined by borders and some legal frameworks, global jihadists emerged as stateless actors, radicalized by Cold War policies and disconnected from national constituencies. Their privatized violence, driven by ideological zeal and social dislocation, is a legacy of the US-sponsored jihad in Afghanistan.