The Finest Hotel in Kabul: A People’s History of Afghanistan is about an institution tasked with the job of housing strangers – Kabul’s Intercontinental Hotel. Through this hotel, which sits high on a hill, and the people within it, seasoned BBC journalist and current foreign affairs editor, Lyse Doucet, attempts tell an immersive history of the sweeping changes that have faced Afghanistan since it opened in 1969.
The book has won the third ever Women’s prize in non-fiction. As an scholar of the region, I can tell you that the hotel is a useful lens through which to tell the recent history of Afghanistan.
The modern state of Afghanistan occupies an integral position in the Silk Road region. It was home to an expansive and historic civilisation in which commerce and hospitality had long been entwined with one another.
Inns, better known as caravanseries in the region, played a central role in the provision of security, the exchange of information, and the formation of identity for traders.
Beyond caravanserais, caring for strangers occupied a critical place in the local moral universe of people in the region. In some contexts this took place in communal gathering places; in others, in villages or the guesthouses of the wealthy and powerful. Across the region, though, social institutions designed to receive, respect, and protect outsiders, from near and far, were a prominent feature of everyday life. While a very different sort of resting place, The Kabul Intercontinental sits within this rich history.
As with other bold architectural buildings of the 1960s, whose history is also tied up to a flow of western capital, the hotel stood for a vision of Afghanistan’s future – of modernity, development and international prestige. As the years passed, the reality ebbed and waned.
Its initial guests included Pan American Airlines flight crews and Afghan socialite and fashion designer Safia Tarzi, a scion of the country’s ruling royal family. People staying in its plush rooms enjoyed local delicacies like drinks from the Afghan-Clemd factory (a state-owned distillery) whose products included the rare taste of alcohol imported from Mongolia and others flavoured with the finest Afghan red raisins.
This luxury, however, would change as the final decade of the cold war ripped Afghanistan and its families to shreds. This is when Doucet’s relationship with the hotel began as she first checked in on Christmas eve 1988.
In its walls she experienced the Soviet evacuation. She saw armed mujahideen commanders from the hills, internationally renowned terrorists, and Taliban leaders tear out the hotel’s bars and smash the bottles of brandy they discovered within. Gone was the glamour, along with the music and mixed-gendered dancing in the hotel’s ballroom.
After the events of 9/11, the international jetset did return. However, these guests were uniformed Nato officials, local elites, international journalists and the employees of aid organisations. They flocked to the hotel, but often pursued by Taliban fighters who tracked them down with ruthless and bloody efficiency.
So Kabul’s “finest hotel” became to be associated with the cloistered and security-cordoned lives of Afghan and international elites and their acolytes. But as Doucet emphasises throughout, it was ordinary people who kept the institution afloat. Responding to changes of personnel and ideological direction, they navigated the changing, violent and deeply unpredictable world around them with deftness and skill. Many losing their lives in the course of doing so.
Around the world, similar hotels were built to demonstrate prestige and signal prosperous futures. However, while the Intercontinental’s doors never closed, others have either fallen into disrepair or come to be used for purposes quite different from those for which they were designed.
Take the Sevastopol Hotel in Moscow, which was built in 1979 to accommodate visitors for the 1980 Moscow Olympics. In the 1990s, it was transformed by Afghan merchants. Rooms built to house guests visiting for Olympics were transformed into commercial offices and retail shops; the hotel’s underground levels becoming warehouses packed full of Chinese-made toys, hardware items, and suitcases.
Doucet’s book is one of the few conventional journalistic accounts of Afghanistan that depicts the country’s ordinary people as rounded individuals seeking to lead respectable lives amid violence and unpredictability. It is a welcome corrective work and a worthy winner.
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