For years, David liked playing this not so well-known board game, called Diplomacy, where he would get to do things and act in ways that he would never do in his regular life. He describes the game as a cross between Risk, poker, and the television show, Survivor. Basically, there's a map of Europe, you're assigned a country, and you're trying to take over the world. There's no dice. There's no element of chance. And so is it about, like, bluffing and alliances, and stuff? Yeah. There's a lot. Alliances are key to the game, because you play with seven players. The only way for anybody to sort of overtake anyone else is for two people to team up against one. Team up and attack, that is. Before each turn, there's 15 minutes where everybody negotiates with everybody else about who's going to work with whom. And then everybody goes off and writes down on pieces of paper who it is that they're going to attack. And then all the papers are read out loud, and everybody finds out who is aligned with who and who double-crossed whom. People stab each other in the back so much in this game, they don't even take the time to say the full phrase-- "stabbed in the back." Everybody just calls it "stabbing." David played with a group of guys, his buddies, always by email. Once a week, they would email each other the next moves, which meant that the game would take months. David thought he knew what he was doing, but his friends wondered about him sometimes. You know, there was a time when I made, like, a pornographic Photoshop of this one player with his phone number and his social security number on it, and I told him that I was going to post it on the internet if he didn't cooperate with me. And you know, I think that some of the people in the game felt like that was-- that had crossed the line, like, that was out of bounds. Wait. You took Photoshop, and you basically took his head, or face, and put it into a porno image with his social security number and-- --his phone number, and I think I put where he worked. And you threatened to put that online. And you were serious? I don't know. I figured it would work, so I didn't know if I was bluffing or not. Wait, and so the people who you were playing with thought that that crossed the line. Why doesn't that cross the line? It's definitely crossing the line. But the thing about diplomacy, I think, is kind of sick is that people will tell you nothing is out of bounds. Well, maybe not nothing. But it's a game with a certain amount of yelling and bullying and psychological manipulation. And the boundary line is not always so clear on what you should be doing. Another time that it seemed like David might not be perceiving where that line is the same way that his opponents did. It came at the very first game that he played with other people, in person-- like not on email. He had wanted to play, in person, for years, but his buddies weren't into that. And so finally he got his chance when a friend invited him to an informal tournament in Connecticut. And I was sure that I would love it. And I rode out there with him. And so where was it? How many people? It was in this weird mansion on the coast of Connecticut. And I don't know, there might have been-- Of course it was. There might have been like 50 people there, and the people were like camped out in the yard. Mhm. It was at midnight, and the wind was howling, and the lightning was striking. And-- It was, like, on a cliff overlooking-- it was like-- Is this true? This is true. It was just some sort of rich family that loved Diplomacy. And so they would host people at their home. It was definitely a weird scene. It was like-- it was this really fancy house, and people all, sort of-- there were boards all over the house and out in the yard. People were all, sort of, playing Diplomacy. And the first game that I played, I was really digging it. You know, I thought, this feels good, and I feel like I can hang with these guys, and I was playing well and totally didn't feel out of my element. Did you win? I did not win. In fact, I stabbed a guy. Stabbed a guy-- he double-crossed him. They were allies, but then David saw a way to take some of his territories, and he teamed up with a different guy against him. And after the move was over, the guy that I stabbed wanted to talk to me. And he pulled me aside, and he says, why did you do that? And I was, like, I'm sorry, man. I didn't really think that I could work with you. I wanted to work with this other guy. And he goes, you can go fuck yourself. And he puts his finger in my face. And I said, what? And he storms over to the board and, like, knocks his stuff over and says, I quit. I'm done with this asshole. Fuck this guy. And he is storming around the house, making this big scene. Everybody in the tournament is, like, watching us. And I'm freaking out. I'm like, is this serious? Is he serious about this? And he's like, this fucking guy, and he's pointing at me and yelling. And then I watch him go around the house to every board, and like, tell the story of what just happened to his friends. And like, I can see him pointing at me. I asked the people on the board-- I said, I, don't understand what's going on, you know? Why is he doing this? I don't get what this is about. Like, all I did was stab him. And they're like, uh, you know, you were a little bit out of line. You were a little bit rude. Or maybe he had not been rude. Maybe he did nothing wrong. Maybe this guy was just pretending to be mad to mess with David's head, pretending to be a hothead, because that image could be useful with all of the other opponents in the coming rounds of the tournament. David had no idea. So I'm like looking around the room, and I'm realizing, I don't know anybody here. Like, I really felt at that point like I couldn't trust anybody. Then the people in my game who were throwing their arm around me, and be like-- he's just messing with your head, don't worry, come over here and talk to me. You know, I was like-- I don't know how to process this. And I also felt like-- this is too intense. I can't handle this, and I feel so uncomfortable. So I just got up and left and left the tournament. You left? Yeah. And I never played Diplomacy again after that. Years passed. And then he saw that the world Diplomacy championship was going to be in the United States this year. And he thought, maybe he would try to play it one more time and record it for our program. David's a reporter. His full name is David Hill. He usually writes about sports for the website Grantland. And he vowed that this time, playing Diplomacy was going to be different. He knew that he needed a new approach to the game, right, because he couldn't even figure out why other players were reacting to his moves the way that they were. Like, this was a game where you're supposed to stab people in the back, but the way that he was doing it, people were just freaking out. He lacked diplomacy. Well, this time, I figured what I really needed was somebody who could teach me tactics, like diplomatic tactics-- you know, the tactics of diplomacy-- so that I could go into the game confident that I was playing correctly, that I wasn't making any mistakes. So I found somebody who could sort of be my coach. And that person was not a gamer. That person was a diplomat, an actual real life diplomat-- in fact, one that you may have heard of, Dennis Ross, probably best known as President Clinton's Middle East envoy. Dennis Ross brokered the Oslo II Accord. He also helped the George H.W. Bush administration on German reunification back when the wall came down. He's been an advisor to President Obama. And in case you're wondering how this man, who's not just brokered international deals, but done it in some of the most contentious conflicts in the world, responded when he was asked to use his expertise and give advice to somebody at the world championship for the board game Diplomacy, well, once it was explained to him what the board game is, his answer was-- sure, sounds like fun. Hi. Hey. Nice to meet you. David Hill. Hi, David. Dennis Ross, nice to see you. So did that feel amazing to have him with you? Yeah. It definitely felt amazing. You know, I felt like I'm back, and this time, I'm going to win, you know, because this time I got the big guns. Ambassador Ross apparently took to the game immediately. And we have the story of what happened when David brought his ringer to the fight, when he brought a professional to an amateur match-up. Today, on our program, stories of trying to figure out who has your back and who's looking to stab you in the back and trying to sort out one from the other. Also, you know, there all the people who want to have your back, who try to have your back, but you are probably making a mistake to depend on them. We talk about that, too. From WBEZ Chicago, it's This American Life. I'm Ira Glass. Stay with us. Absolutely Stabulous. All right. So you have this set up, right. David Hill takes Ambassador Dennis Ross to help him win at a board game tournament. Here is David. The world championship of Diplomacy brought together almost 90 top Diplomacy players from eight different countries. Most of them were middle aged men. All of them were nerds-- and not the Chris Hardwick, Olivia Munn, kind of nerd, homespun nerds-- the real deal-- nerds from all over the world, in a prototypical nerd setting, a basement-- in this case, the dim basement of a dorm at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill. I strutted into that dorm with diplomat Dennis Ross by my side. I was worried about intimidating the other players. I didn't need to worry. Nobody was scared-- amused maybe. Only one person in this room had counseled four presidents, and everyone's reaction was-- meh. In fact, the tournament director felt he had to rig the game in our favor by assigning me Russia, the strongest of the seven countries on the board. When they announced the assignments, people actually laughed. David Hill. Russia. So what I want you to do-- I quickly lost my confidence. Who was I kidding? I was up against the best in the world, and I would only had an ambassador in my corner for the first game on the first day of a three day tournament. So I decided all I wanted to do was to survive to the end of this game, to know that I could do this. I was freaked out. But Dennis Ross was unfazed. If you play with such anxiety, everybody is going to know it. Yeah. They're going to read it. You know, when I was negotiating, I could read the body language. I could tell if someone was really nervous. I once had, in one negotiation, I explained to somebody what it is we needed. And it was clearly way beyond what they thought we were going to go for. And my first impulse was looking at this person-- this [INAUDIBLE] should never play poker. I mean, he literally blanched. So you know, the other thing is you've got to be cool. Sure. Right? Got it. Got to have a poker face, convey confidence, even if I don't feel it. Right. Seven of us gathered around the board. We nodded brief hellos, put 15 minutes on the clock, and bam-- time to negotiate. Since I was big bad Russia, I was instantly the most popular person in the room. All the other players started, well, flirting with me. So hi, Russia. How are you doing? Hi. I'm good, I'm good. How are you? Are you figuring out the swing [INAUDIBLE]. A little bit, little bit. That was Austria. Next was Germany. So if you wanted to work with me against England next year, I'd be very happy to help you by cutting them off, say, from Denmark, or whatever else it is that you need. Italy. What I want to do is get into a three on one fight. Right? I want to, you and me, and either Turkey or Austria. And Turkey. Russia and Turkey often ally with each other in this game. The shorthand for their alliance is RT. Here's Turkey. RT is probably my favorite alliance on the board. Mhm. So-- I mean, no matter what happens, you know, when I start with the two way, I'm sticking with you. Right. But then I am vulnerable if you cooperate with Austria, then, right? Then you could push me out of Russia-- that's the thing that I-- That is not going to happen. Oh, sure. I understand. No. I mean, that is not going to happen. I am sticking with you. OK, cool. Everyone was pretty convincing, I have to say. I didn't know who to believe or who to trust. But Dennis didn't hesitate. For him, it was just another day at the office. He took me into the hallway to confer. I think Germany is playing a long game. And is just asking you-- he's doing it in a very clever way. Right. The same with Italy. He's doing it in a way where it doesn't look like he's trying to ask you to do things, when he actually is asking you to do something. And the Turkish player, I think, is the one guy who is committed to you in a way that, I think, is most convincing. Dennis said that Turkey reminded him of someone, someone named Sergey Tereshchenko. Tereshchenko was the Soviet Foreign Minister's Chief Assistant. When Dennis first met Tereshchenko, he knew he was going to have to work with him on the issue of German reunification, but he wasn't sure if he could trust him. Early on, he said to me-- at a certain point, he said, look the future of my country depends upon a different kind of relationship with the United States. And the way he said it to me made me feel like it wasn't a manipulation. The way he said it was almost exactly the way the person who is playing Turkey conveyed-- I'm going to be there. Even the inflection was the same. I mean, for me, it's like I had this memory, sort of, flash before me, as I listened to him say it and the way he said it. Sold. I allied with Turkey. This turned out to be smart. Later in the game, there were plenty of moments where I simply had no idea what the hell was going on. But Turkey knew what he was doing, and he had an interest in keeping me alive. Since you're my number one ally, I'll just tell you, if you go down, I go down. I mean, you are critical to me. I mean, you have to be able to defend yourself. Can you give me the supply side of this so that I can make it a build? Oh. In the fall-- not now, but in the fall. I'm not ruling it out, actually, because I need for you not to collapse up here. As the game unfolded, everyone was going after Italy, everyone but me. So Italy came over for a chat. What do you want to have happen over the course of the next two years? My long term plan would be for you and I and Turkey to kill Austria, and then, you and I to kill Turkey. It was a tempting offer, and I was flattered. Italy was one of the best players on the board, a former world champion, named Chris Martin. But saying yes to Italy meant turning against Turkey, and Turkey had been a loyal ally. So Dennis said no. It's like they say. You've got to dance with the one that brung you. I still think that, even though Italy is clearly the stronger player, Turkey is a more reliable player. I was still so nervous, I kept out of the fighting for as long as I could. I watched Germany and England turn on France and eliminate him from the game. I couldn't stall forever. I knew that eventually I'd have to go to war. I just didn't know who I should fight. But Dennis watched me talking to Germany, who bears a more than passing resemblance to Jason Statham. I was so anxious, you could hear me tapping my lapel mic with a pen. All right. I promise you I'm won't go after any of those four regions. This turn. Absolutely. I can't promise what's going to happen in two or three turns' time, at this time. I understand that. But it's at least a promise of a commitment that I can make, this turn. I can't say further than that. Dennis' evaluation? Look, what he told you is he's not doing anything this time. But what he also told you, basically-- He didn't know what he could do later. Well, what he is telling you is he is going to do it later. That's what that meant. Yeah. So I declared war on Germany and advanced on Munich. Munich. Munich. He went to Munich. He's attacking me. Cheeky. Later, Germany told me this was a great move. Maybe that explains why he was so ticked off about it when I did it. I've never lied to you. From now on, you can't rely on that. What you're doing is you're encouraging me to attack you. I understand that. But I would like to say that I haven't lied to you either. You wouldn't-- yeah, OK, fair enough. Lying is something Dennis had very strong feelings about, and his feeling was never do it, ever. You don't lie in real diplomacy, because it always comes back to haunt you. Anyone you're dealing with now, you know, they're not going to go away. And so once you lie, that's always there. You don't lie. He also told me that overall, I should keep my attitude in check-- no bullying, no badgering. This is just what I wanted to hear. My experience with playing cutthroat, like, when I blackmailed my friend or got cussed out in that creepy mansion, always ended badly. I was relieved to hear there was a way to be good at diplomacy without making everyone hate me in the process. Piedmont holds. [INAUDIBLE] supports Munich. Vienna supports Bohemia. Budapest to Romania-- After five or six hours, it got to the point where there were two major alliances, each one taking up about half the board. What that meant was a stalemate-- a six way draw, and we'd all have to split the points for the game. I was fine with that. So were the other people in my alliance. But the other side wanted more points. More points would give them a better shot at winning the world championship. So they pulled each person from my side into the hall, one by one. And they offered each of us a deal to stab our friends. When Italy returned from his meeting in the hallway, they followed him back in the room, still hassling him. They went up one side of him and down the other, until he snapped. You're going to hold us hostage to a possible point where you knock us down to here. No, no. Look they cut me out. I don't care. No, shut up. I'm going to talk. OK? You're going to hold us hostage for five hours while you grind down, and you still can't cut us out, right? Because there's a 13th center standing line that all of us can get behind. Everyone in the room took a step back. This was the first time tonight any of us had seen Italy show any kind of anger. And it occurred to me, is he faking this as a tactic? Dennis had said anger was a good tool, but only if you use it sparingly. If you use it all the time, it has no effect. And if you want it to have an effect, it has to, in a sense, have drama to it. Italy was down to a single army. He was a dead man walking if the game didn't end soon. This was a smart time to get mad, and it was working. Can I finish my fucking sentence? Well, I have now finished my sentence, so of course you may. OK. It's one turn. I want to see the fall played out. Our opponents agreed to only go one more turn before conceding to a draw. Nobody broke. Just like Dennis advised, Turkey and I stuck together to the very end with our new allies, Italy and Austria, and the game was over. Yay. Yay. It's over. It's over? Good game. It was just like I'd hoped. I survived. I got through the first game, a draw, with the best players in the world. Before he left, Dennis Ross said farewell to our opponents. I want to tell you how much I was impressed by this. It's not every day that a diplomat sees people who have a kind of instinct for what real diplomacy is. You guys do it as if you're breathing. It's like breathing oxygen for you. And notwithstanding some obvious differences between the real world and this, I still think that all of you would be good in the reality of diplomacy, not just in the game of it. Austria pipes up-- so are you hiring? So are you hiring? I have a card. Thank you so much for your comments. The good vibes died there. Day two, Dennis was gone. And without him, everything went to hell. My opponents weren't polite or patient anymore. People admitted they'd been nicer when Dennis was around. I think they might have wanted to show the diplomat just how diplomatic they could be. There were fewer attacks and stabs than usually happen-- but that was yesterday. You fucked it up, right? I mean, Austria really boned the game of Russia. He boned my game. Day two was Lord of the Flies. I stuck with the principles Dennis gave me-- pick an ally and stick with him, don't lie. But it was just like in that weird mansion. I felt like everyone was mad at me. And this time, they all told me I wasn't vicious enough. This time they all wanted me to stab my ally. They laughed in my face and told me I was a fool. Everybody stabs, they said. That's part of the game. I refused, and the gloves came off. Are you going to be paid for writing this story, a burly Scottish player asked me? Because I'm losing three day's wages to be here so that I can get screwed by you. He told me I wasn't just playing badly, I was ruining the game for everyone. I got mad, and not in the smart, strategic, kind of way. Let me submit this to you. Perhaps, maybe your failure in this game was that you didn't do very good diplomacy with me or with Germany. That's your failure, not mine. So maybe that's why I'm tired of people telling me that I fucked the game up or that I should play differently, when maybe, you should play differently, and you should diplome better. Eventually my ally, a high school math teacher named Brian, ended up stabbing me. He watched me go to the mat with the other players to defend him, then he chopped me out of the game for a few extra points. I was incredulous. I pulled him aside and asked him why he sold me out. He said, I guess I'm just a hard motherfucker like that, and turned and walked away. I am not a hard motherfucker, not even in a game. I really wanted to play the game of diplomacy using actual diplomacy, being respectful and truthful, and it didn't work. I felt frustrated and angry. And my only consolation was-- at least Dennis Ross thought I'd make a good diplomat. I mean, that's what he told me, so who cares what these nerds think. Hi. I didn't win the tournament, Ambassador Ross. You know, I didn't bet the house on you doing that. After I got back home, I called Dennis Ross. I told him what I'd been thinking since the tournament-- that the game seemed to require players to be cutthroat, and it wasn't for me. I do think that you were probably wrong about me, at the end of the day. I think that I'm probably not cut out for the US Foreign Service. Well, I didn't say you were cut out for the US Foreign Service. Well, that's what I took away. That was my take-away. That's how good he is. He never lied to me. He never told me I was cut out to be a diplomat. And somehow, I came away from our conversation believing exactly what I wanted to believe. David Hill. He wrote more about the world diplomacy championships for Grantland. You can find that at Grantland.com. Or there's also a link to that article at our website, thisamericanlife.org. Coming up, a do-gooder who does not have the back of most of the people who want his help. That's in a minute, from Chicago public radio when our program continues. This American Life-- I'm Ira Glass. Today's program, "Got Your Back"-- stories of trusting people to protect and guide you, even in situations where it is not so certain that that is a good idea. We've arrived at Act 2 of our program. Act 2, "By the Waters of Haggle-On." You may have heard this audio on the internet. A guy named Ryan Block called Comcast to cancel his internet service. He wanted to change to a different provider. And 10 minutes into the call, he started recording. OK. We'd like to disconnect. We'd like to disconnect, please. OK. So why is it that you don't want this faster speed? Help me understand why you don't want faster internet? Help me understand why you can't just disconnect us. Because my job is to have a conversation with you about-- I mean, keeping your service, about finding out why it is that you're looking to cancel the service. Can you disconnect us by phone? Can you disconnect our service? Yes or no? But what I'm trying to find out is why don't you want-- Yes or no, can you disconnect our service? --the same offer a brand new customer is going to get, faster internet than anyone can provide you? Why don't you want those services? Because I'm not interested in your services any longer. OK. So you're not interested in the fastest internet in the country? Nope, not interested. OK. Why is that? Can you disconnect us by phone? Are you capable, in your system, of disconnecting our service, yes or no? This recording goes on and on for eight minutes. OK. So you don't want to get service? You don't want something that works? No. I guess I don't want something that works. So why don't you want something that's good service and something that works? I mean, is this like a joke? Did we, like, call-- are you punking us right now? After this call went viral, someone from Comcast called Ryan block to apologize. At this point, 5 million people have listened to this online. And I think that it is so popular because so many of us have been in some situation like this, where against some company, we feel totally powerless. Well, every other week in The Haggler column in The New York Times, people write in with their unsolvable consumer problems. And then reporter David Segal steps in and takes their side. He has their back. He publicly approaches the company and tries to get them to do the right thing. I work on behalf of people who have been driven insane by indifference, insane by the experience of knocking on a door, knowing that someone is on the other side of that door, and they will not respond. If you can get those people behind the door to respond, it's like a magic trick. It feels like a magic trick to the reader. A while back, David Segal stepped in for a guy-- he said that he had signed up for a free trial of e-greeting cards from a company called Blue Mountain Greeting Cards. The company required his credit card info to give him the free trial, and so he did that, and then he clicked some buttons. And then the next thing he knew, they told him that he was a monthly subscriber. So he tried to cancel, right? This is from his email to David Segal. I went back to the Cancel page. But it just said-- we are sorry, but we are unable to process your cancellation request, right now-- end quote. Funny, isn't it, that once you've paid, you can't cancel. I'm out $19.99. Can you get it back? William Potash, Brookline, Mass. So I got in touch with Blue Mountain, and they fixed this problem really quickly. So good news, right? David tried to reach the consumer, which he always does for the column. And suddenly, this guy who had been emailing him back and forth for days stopped returning his emails. His column deadline approached. David got a little more frantic. And so I just went all out. I was like-- I got research to find his mother in New Jersey. I tried to find out where he worked, just to like, get this information. I need to speak to you. Finally, like late on Thursday night, I get a call from a guy named Phil Potash. And he's like, hey, I understand you're trying to get in touch with me. And I said, yeah, you wrote to me-- William Potash? He said, oh no, I'm not William Potash, I'm Phil Potash. I'm like, who's William Potash? He said, that's my 10-year-old son. Oh. It was a boy who had written me, completely convincingly as an adult. It was this completely-- you know, credit card-- it was written, like, just deadpan as an adult. And I think the kid decided-- I don't want to get on the phone with this guy, because he's going to hear that I'm a 10-year-old boy. I remember sitting with friends saying, like, what could explain why William Potash won't call me back? Let's rack our brains. What could explain this? Please, like-- And what was your theory? I had no idea. I remember being completely stunned. And it turned out, he's 10 years old. He doesn't want to talk to me, because he hasn't hit puberty. When you write a column like this, of course, tons of people get in touch, wanting you to take their side and get their backs. And the overwhelming majority, David Segal says, he simply cannot help. Like 95 out of 100, he cannot help, because he says these customers, they're not in their right. They are-- People who don't have a legitimate beef. And this is most common with warranties. So they bought something five years ago. It had a three year warranty, The Haggler should step in and get a refund. Wait, and they understand that? They understand that the warranty ran out two years ago? Yeah. There's a fair amount of that. Here's someone who wanted something from a camera store. And they said, we don't have it. We don't have it in stock anymore. So let's refund your money. And he's like, I don't want a refund, I want the thing that I ordered. And they're like, well, we don't have the thing you ordered, so let us send you your money back. And he writes to me, and is like, can you make them send me the thing that I want? And I'm like, no, they don't have it. Like, what am I supposed to do? I don't really understand how I can help at all. So I mean, I think that this is a big part of my life, just sorting through complaints that aren't really good complaints. Here's one. In January, 2013, we traveled to Myanmar and purchased two wooden statues in a shop in Yangon. That's the least promising start-- --to any letter I've ever read, because the idea that The Haggler has any juice in Myanmar is ludicrous. It's also like-- Like some guy in Myanmar, you're going to be-- woo, The New York Times. Yeah, I'm going to call them up, and they're just going to start quaking immediately, and be like-- oh, did you see The New York Times? Yeah, we have a refund going, right now, to this person. Do you think that writing the column for five years has made you more sympathetic to companies than you were at the beginning? Yes. Not to the customers. Oh, I'm sympathetic to both. I mean, when companies misbehave-- and I see a lot of companies misbehave-- I'm absolutely sympathetic to the customers. But I hear from enough entitled customers to feel sympathy for companies. What you see is the worst of customers and the worst of companies. David Segal of The Haggler column in The New York Times. One Woman Show. There's this woman named, Hamida Gulistani. She advocates for women's rights in Afghanistan, helping women who are being beaten by their husbands or forced into terrible arranged marriages. And doing this work in Afghanistan is just as hard a job as whatever it is that you're imagining when I say those words. And for a few years, when the US presence in the country was at its greatest, she did feel like somebody had her back. She felt safer. She saw some progress. But now with the US pulling out, her situation is changing. It's gotten way more dangerous already. We do not have her back in the same way at all. For two and a half years, Kevin Sieff has been the Bureau Chief for The Washington Post in Afghanistan, and he has this story about the change that she is facing. A quick trigger warning, for anybody who needs a trigger warning, that this story does include descriptions of incidents of violence against women. Here's Kevin Sieff. Before the US was there as her ally, Hamida was pretty much on her own, doing a job she invented for herself out of nothing. She had no role models. She completely made the whole thing up. She started doing this in 2005. At the time, she had just gotten a nursing job at a clinic in a place called Ghazni City. It's a sprawl of mostly mud-baked buildings in eastern Afghanistan. At the clinic, Hamida basically had a front row seat to how brutally women were still being treated four years after the American invasion. Patients arrived all the time, in burkas with bruises and broken bones. One day, a pregnant woman showed up at the examination room. Hamida convinced her to go to the press. Afghan media outlets have popped up in Ghazni, because of funding from the US. And Hamida thought, a woman speaking out against her husband would be news. Maybe they could use the local media to shame the woman's husband. Maybe they could even get the local Prosecutor's attention. How many calls were you getting? I mean, after this first incident, was your phone just ringing all the time? Hamida basically became a one woman emergency response team, a de facto point of contact for women who were abused, forced into marriages, or refused divorces. Her phone number got passed all over Ghazni. She realized she didn't have the legal system on her side, she didn't have local officials on her side, but the Americans were encouraging Afghans to recognize women's rights. And the one tool Hamida had with the media, which she used. This was something new in Afghanistan. She'd drag along the press when she'd go to see a local Imam in a remote village. The best way to help a woman facing domestic violence was to get the local religious leader involved, so she had a strategy. She'd call the Imam. With a reporter there, the Imam usually would be helpful. For cases where women didn't want any media attention, Hamida would just show up at the family's house and ad hoc her way to an intervention. A lot of times, there was a conflict between the woman and her own family, mostly involving arranged marriages. A woman once came to Hamida. She said her father was about to marry her off to a drug addict. What happened to the girl after this case was settled by the Attorney General? To a man that she chose to marry? Nine years after she first started, Hamida still operates pretty much the same way. She keeps track of all of her cases in a gruesome notebook. It's full of pictures she's taken of victims with her digital camera-- handcuffed girls standing in prison, women who have almost been beaten to death. Hamida carries an old black cell phone with her all the time. And it's constantly ringing with calls from women who want her help. It didn't take long for the Americans to notice Hamida. They'd hoped to find Afghan women who would take up the cause of women's rights. And here she was, exactly what they were looking for-- someone outspoken, aggressive, and willing to risk her life. So they met Hamida and involved her in meetings with top Afghan leaders. She even came to Washington, DC, as part of a State Department program. Now Hamida is a big deal. Lots of Afghans know who she is. See's on the Provincial Council in Ghazni. It's their version of the State Senate. She's also on popular national TV shows all the time, like this one, called The People's Voice. In one segment, she's wearing eyeshadow, lipstick, and high heels. She's in her 40s, the only woman on a big panel of men. She fields questions from young women in the audience. This woman asks why the Afghan government talks so much about women's rights, but doesn't actually do anything. Why are women still having trouble going to school and being out in public? I asked my translator to tell me Hamida's response. She's one of the few women in Afghanistan willing to criticize the government so publicly on national television. In Hamida's view, what she's doing only seems radical because Afghanistan has changed so much since she was a girl. In the 1970s and '80s, it was a far more liberal place. It was a society dominated by men, but her father would never insult his daughters or humiliate them or beat them. She knew women who wore skirts and sleeveless shirts. But Hamida remembers when all that changed-- when the Mujahideen took over the country. A rocket hit their house. Her cousin was injured. Everyone was going to the hospital, and her brother stopped her. Hamida had been helping women in Ghazni for four years when President Obama announced the troop surge in 2009, and many of those soldiers and Marines were dispatched to Ghazni. It's part of the Taliban's heartland. At one point, the province had about 20 American bases and several thousand American troops. For the first time, Hamida had real, physical protection, international attention, and legitimacy in the eyes of her own skeptical government. The world's superpower had her back. And it gave her a sense of invincibility. She threw a big celebration in 2010 for Women's Day, and the US Ambassador's wife showed up. US troops came to help with security, and there was a huge turnout-- something that would have been hard to imagine before. Women in Ghazni were often confined to their homes. Things weren't perfect, but they seemed to be moving in the right direction. But after just a few years, in 2013, Americans were withdrawing from Ghazni, as a part of the larger plan to end the war. For months now, they've been tearing down bases all over Afghanistan. And when you drive around the country, they already look like ancient artifacts-- sort of like Pompeii, with rusty razor wire. Hamida's American contacts in the province were now suddenly gone. She felt things slipping backwards. And then last August. The police didn't come until after the attack had completely ended. By that time, Hamida's bodyguard and driver were dead. She got lucky. The Taliban wanted to kill her. The Taliban are now gaining more control in Ghazni. At this point in the withdrawal, the US is mostly focused on training Afghan police and other security forces on how to defeat them. Women's rights have dropped into the background, and more and more Afghan officials don't even give lip service to women's rights. Last year, they tried to pass a law that would have made it legal to stone a woman accused of adultery. A few months later, Parliament tried to make it tougher to prosecute rape cases. Hamida has a folder full of death threats from the Taliban. She's been shot at in a shopping mall. Her daughter was in a car chase on the highway. Hamida is always on edge and changes her house every six months. Just to give you a sense of what Hamida is up against, the main people left in Ghazni to protect her-- the police-- are often the same people she's trying to prosecute. A United Nations report shows that 70% of Afghan female police officers have been sexually abused or harassed by male officers. One of her most disturbing cases recently involved a police officer kidnapping a 13-year-old girl named Nuria, then he gang-raped her with some of his colleagues. Hamida said the girl's whole body was shaking uncontrollably when they met. Nuria decided to talk to local media. She wanted these guys arrested. So Hamida organized a press conference. She sat next to Nuria at a table set up with microphones and recorders. Nuria tells them, I regained my consciousness around midnight. I saw three men, and I was completely naked. I tried to grab my clothes, but I fainted. These men violated me and kidnapped me, and I want the government to provide justice for me. How is she doing now? She's missing? You know who the police officers were, and nothing happened to them? Over the last year or so, the Taliban has ramped up its own campaign against women. They've killed at least six female police officers and other women, as well. Sometimes they videotape their murders. In one video, a woman named Najiba, who was accused of adultery, was shot 13 times, while men cheered in the background. At the same time, Hamida says, she sees signs of progress in surprising places-- like she's getting a lot of phone calls these days from girls who've run away from home who need shelter. What's hopeful about this, she says, is that these girls have gotten a message-- that they have a choice, they don't have to put up with violence. American officials are hoping Hamida can continue the mission she started even after their departure. One diplomat who's worked with Hamida is Karen Decker. She was the State Department's top official in eastern Afghanistan and used to fly over to Ghazni in a helicopter whenever she wanted to see Hamida. I will worry about Afghan women. I worry about the fact that they still have a big fight ahead of them, and the bad times may last a long time. They've got to keep fighting. But it's going to be a hard fight. Karen left her post in Afghanistan shortly after this interview. She'd been there for two years, going to some of the country's most dangerous districts, where some of her first questions were almost always about women-- could they vote, could they work, could they attend school? Regardless of the answers, she knew the US withdrawal had to continue. At a certain point, we had to step back, even from women that we knew were out there on the razor edge, trying to do good for Afghan women writ large. We still knew that for sustainable development, we could not continue to sit right next to them and enable their every movement, recognizing that it hurts. It hurts to see that. I think anyone would say the same thing. But we sort of steeled our resolve and said, we've got to stop. Because otherwise, we're going to have to be here forever. They will never stand on their own two feet. When the US does leave, or as the withdrawal continues, what's the plan to continue supporting women like Hamida? Well, a year ago, I banned the word "leaving" from the vocabulary of every American who worked for me, because we're not leaving. Our embassy is enduring. Our embassy is enormous. It has one of the largest development budgets in the world. I know what you mean when you ask the question-- and yes, everybody talks about us leaving-- but we're not leaving. We are just not going to be physically present in villages and provincial capitals, which is exactly the way we do business in most of the world. Here's the thing, though-- every Afghan, including Hamida, has a cell phone. Access to the internet is growing. And we will communicate with people via all kinds of computer-based technologies-- Skype, we do a lot of Skype-- and Hamida is very well connected to us through those mechanisms. Hamida's internet connection isn't fast enough in Ghazni for Skype. She only speaks Dari. She says, sure, since the bases have closed in her area, American officials and soldiers still try to keep in touch. They send her email. She does understand a little bit of English, but it's not good enough to read those emails. For safety reasons, Hamida moved her kids out of Ghazni. She sent one to live in Pakistan and three to Kabul. Now, they act like they're the parents. They check in with Hamida frequently, ask how her day went, and just make sure she's OK. Sometimes her son, Solar, tries to stop her from going out on cases, especially at night. He's 13, and her youngest. I used the same interpreter for our interview. It's not as clear for Hamida's daughter, Frohal. She admires her mom. She wants to be just like her, and she's as progressive as any woman I've met in Afghanistan. When I met her at her house, Frohal wasn't wearing a headscarf. She's a senior in college studying art. She likes sculpting nudes. In a few months, she'll graduate and move back to Ghazni to work with her mom. Frohal told me she recently asked her mom what happens to their family when the Americans are completely gone? Again, I used the same translator. Right now, when Hamida thinks about the future, she vacillates between two extremes. She can double down and run for Parliament next year. If she won a spot, she'd finally have some real power over Afghanistan's laws. But it would also make her an even bigger target for the Taliban. Or she could openly admit to her American contacts that she needs help getting out of the country. Hamida keeps their business cards in a special drawer in her desk. She's already thinking about asking him for visas for her kids. We talked for hours before she told me this. She was embarrassed. Does that ever make you want to quit? For now, though, in public, Hamida still plays the part of a confident Afghan woman. She wants women to feel like they still have an advocate. And so every time her cell phone rings, she takes the call, and when needed, heads out the door. Kevin Sieff is a foreign correspondent for The Washington Post. Thanks to his interpreter, Shafi Sharifi. Our program was produced today by Chana Joffe-Walt, myself, with Alex Blumberg, Ben Calhoun, Sean Cole, Stephanie Foo, Sarah Keonig, Miki Meek, Jonathan Menjivar, Brian Reed, Robin Semien, Alyssa Shipp, and Nancy Updike. Our senior producer is Julie Snyder. Production help from JP Dukes. Seth Lind is our operations director. Emily Condon's our production manager. Elise Bergerson's our office manager. Adrianne Mathiowetz runs our website. Research help from Michelle Harris and Julie Beer. Music help from Rob Geddis. Thanks, today, to Mohammad Sharif, Arash Afghahi, Sonya Ryda, Barya Schechter, David Hood, Chris Martin, Steve Cooley, Toby Harris, Andy Bartoloni, Siobhan Nolan, Mark Stegman, Aaron Duncan, Eric Monte, Greg Legoretta, and Emanuel Ruffler, of Mac Tech. A water pipe burst last night in our computer room, here at the radio show. The only reason that we actually have a new program today is Emanuel swooping in after midnight to pull the audio off of water-soaked computers. He had our back. He saved the day. Our website-- thisamericanlife.org. This American Life is delivered to public radio stations by PRX, the Public Radio Exchange. Thanks, as always, to our program's co-founder, Mr. Torey Malatia, who describes his efforts rallying everybody who pitches on air during the pledge drive this way-- I work on behalf of people who have been driven insane by indifference, insane by the experience of knocking on a door, knowing that someone's on the other side of that door, and they will not respond. I'm Ira Glass. Back next week with more stories of This American Life