Kabul OUTSIDE his small workshop on a dusty street here the other day, Mohammad Nasim lined up a colorful display of satellite dishes. Shouting to be heard over the racket made by his ten workmen's hammers and drills, he said he's selling 25 to 30 satellite dishes a week. In Taliban times, sales were clandestine, and demand was much lower, he said, about one a week. I passed four more satellite dish makers in the following few days. Abdul Samad, whose crowded shop sells satellite receivers and televisions, said he moves about 200 units a week, whereas under the Taliban he was lucky to sell even one. Back then, television was forbidden, and radio--called Voice of Sharia--broadcast only religious messages, official decrees, and anti-Western propaganda. After coalition airstrikes in October destroyed Kabul's main radio tower, several new stations appeared. One of these, known as Commando Solo, was broadcast from a Pennsylvania Air National Guard EC-130. It carried music and information for 10 hours a day on one shortwave and two AM frequencies. The programs advised listeners to stay away from possible targets, informed the Taliban of their imminent demise, and offered instructions on how to surrender. Another new station was the Northern Alliance's Voice of Peace, which used equipment donated by a French agency called Droit de Parole. American and British broadcasters, furthermore, increased their programs in Pashto, Dari, and Farsi, Afghanistan's main languages. Even Islamic Republic of Iran Broadcasting (IRIB) increased its Dari-language programming from the usual 6 hours a day to 11 hours a day. It includes news, religious shows, and songs in Dari, Pashto, and Uzbek. At Radio Kabul, the director of technical services, Zabiullah Hafizi, told me that during the conflict the most popular radio stations in Afghanistan were the ones from Iran (especially in the western provinces), the Persian and Tajik Services of Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, Voice of America, and the BBC. People appreciated the Commando Solo broadcasts, he said, but they were afraid to listen because of possible Taliban retaliation and because the signal often was weak. Now Radio Kabul is back on the air, and the interim administration's radio and television chief, Abdul Hafiz Mansour, says he hopes to make it appeal to the entire Afghan population. He means to hire people from different ethnic groups (Pashtun, Tajik, Hazara, Aimaks, Turkmen, Baluch, and Uzbek), languages (Pashto, Dari, Uzbek, Baluchi, and Turkmen), regions, and religions. From the beginning, maintains Mansour, his organization has promoted mass participation and equal rights. "On our first radio and television program after the Taliban's flight," he says, "we made use of female broadcasters and female staff, who make up 40 percent of our staff." The United States, Italy, and Japan have promised to help Radio Kabul, Mansour said, but they've done nothing yet--while Iran has stepped into the breach. A delegation from Iranian state broadcasting accompanied Iranian foreign minister Kamal Kharrazi when he visited Kabul to attend the inauguration of the interim administration December 22. In addition, Tehran has already donated a 50-kilowatt radio transmitter, a 200-watt television transmitter, satellite equipment, and movies, and has offered to repair or replace transmitters in cities outside the capital. And Tehran has offered to set up training courses in journalism, technical skills, and set design, and has sent four technicians to work with Afghan broadcasting. Two days after speaking with Afghan broadcasting officials, I visited Kohe Asmaii, the hill where the radio and television towers used to sit. A rocky, wind-swept site with a commanding view of Kabul, it was guarded by a handful of antiaircraft guns. Obviously, they weren't up to the task. All that was left were some scraps of twisted metal, a blown-out building with a large hole in its roof, and a heavily fortified bunker. Fearing booby traps and unexploded ordnance, I passed on visiting the bunker. But I did encounter two engineers from Islamic Republic of Iran Broadcasting and a crew of Afghan laborers. They had already installed a temporary transmitter next to Kabul's main hotel and now were installing a television transmitter they said would be ready in ten days and should last for about three years. It would be temporary, one engineer explained, but other needs were more pressing. All the equipment they were installing was made in Iran, he said. The main cause of delay in activating it was the absence of electricity on the hilltop. The broadcast media are especially important in Afghanistan, where the literacy rate is an estimated 40 percent overall and less than 4 percent for women. Taliban leader Mullah Mohammed Omar acknowledged as much when he told the BBC back on November 15, "You and American puppet radios have created a sense of concern." Iran's leaders clearly appreciate the power of radio. By taking the lead in reviving Afghan state broadcasting, they have cast Iran as the selfless big brother--and secured for themselves a strong position from which to shape public opinion about Afghanistan's future leaders and relations with other countries. While the United States openly presses its military campaign, Iran is quietly conducting its own campaign for Afghan hearts and minds. A. William Samii is a regional specialist with Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty. The views expressed here are his own.