Letter From the Editors

What do the Russian Central Bank and the Taliban have in common? On the surface, absolutely nothing. But this week, wesee two very different but surprisingly parallel dramas unfold – one on the back of Russia’s 500-ruble note, the other on the tense frontier of South Asia. Both cases, though separated by thousands of miles and political contexts, illuminate deeper battles over identity, legitimacy, and the tools states use to maintain power.

The scenic Mt. Elbrus or the sprawling Grozny City? As Mikhail Shevchuk writes, the battle over what image to place on the back of a banknote reflects “a clash between the imperial narrative and the regionalism that stands against it.” For many Russians, Grozny City symbolizes undue favor to Chechnya and its strongman, Ramzan Kadyrov. Not to mention that Grozny City is completely unhistoric. And when Kadyrov decided to up the ante by announcing those who voted for Grozny’s high-rises would be entered in a raffle for the latest iPhone, Russia’s “patriotic” community saw this as an affront. In response, they called on voters to choose Mt. Elbrus as a more unifying symbol of national pride. Ultimately, the Central Bank ended the online vote, pleading “technical reasons” – a move Shevchuk sees as the real emblem of modern Russian politics: Order, not dialogue, trumps all. What’s even more indicative, in a country where overt political competition is rare, even currency becomes a battleground for suppressed grievances.

While in Russia, the struggle played out in miniature, in Afghanistan, it sprawled across 2,400 kilometers – the length of the country’s border with Pakistan. Here, the illusion of control repeatedly falters at the boundaries of ethnic and ideological allegiances. Islamabad’s air strikes on Kabul were a response to the Taliban refusing to rein in Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan, which has found shelter in the neighboring country. “For decades, Islamabad supported the Taliban as its tool of influence in Afghanistan, but now that the Taliban – aided by Pakistan – has risen to power, they refuse to take action against Pakistani rebels [taking refuge in Afghanistan],” writes Ivan Lutiyev. The issue is further complicated by the Durand Line – a British colonial holdover that divided Pashtun communities, with some ending up in Pakistan and others in Afghanistan. Kabul’s refusal to officially recognize its border with Pakistan has two aspects. Geographically, the Pashtun population resists division, while ideologically, the Taliban’s Islamic emirate clashes with the idea of a nation-state. The chaos is further compounded by outside players like China and India.

Meanwhile, the shaky Israel-Hamas peace, also imposed by external players – in this case, the US in the person of “perennial peacemaker” Trump – seems to have derailed. The ceasefire in the Gaza Strip was broken on Oct. 19, after Hamas opened fire on IDF positions in the south of the enclave. Hardliners in Netanyahu’s government are now calling on him to resume the war. As former defense minister Avigdor Lieberman put it, “In the Middle East there is only one language – force.” This could in part explain a controversial bill introduced in the Knesset on recognizing the West Bank as Israeli territory. Vice-President J.D. Vance, who visited Israel this week, wasn’t too happy with such “disobedience” on the part of Tel Aviv. “If it was a political exercise, it was a stupid political exercise,” Vance said on Israeli television. It looks like the Israeli government and Washington are at cross purposes: For Netanyahu, ending the war on unfavorable terms means losing credibility at home, especially with the conservative electorate. But for Trump, a ceasefire that lasted less than a week hardly makes him look like the peacemaker he’s making himself out to be. Just like the clash on the 500-ruble note or the one between Afghanistan and Pakistan, the Gaza war is a clear illustration that when the star of the show is symbolism – whether of statehood, territory, or authority – conflicts cease to align with lived realities.