KABUL, Afghanistan, Dec. 17 — Malalai Joya pushed her black head

scarf forward to cover her hair fully, then opened her mouth.

Out poured a torrent of words, in a voice rising with emotion. Why,

she asked the delegates assembled here on Wednesday to ratify a new

constitution for Afghanistan, were her countrymen and women

tolerating the presence of the "criminals" who had destroyed the

country?

"They should be brought to national and international justice," she

said. "If our people forgive them, history will not."

It took a moment for the 502 delegates to absorb the import of her

words. When they did, the result was bedlam: shouts of "Death to

Communism!" and a rush by some toward the stage, and toward the

diminutive Ms. Joya as well.

All of 25, Ms. Joya, a social worker from Farah Province, in the

southwest, had crossed several lines at once. She had spoken her mind

as few Afghan women dare to do. More important, as many interpreted

her words, she had spoken against the mujahedeen, or holy warriors,

who fought and humbled the Soviet Union. They are a sacrosanct

constituency in this country, and a powerful political force in this

assembly, a traditional meeting called a loya jirga.

Many Afghans, however, now call those commanders warlords, blaming

them for the destruction of Kabul in a vicious civil war that began

in 1992 after the fall of the Communist government and ended only

when the Taliban conquered the country in 1996 and imposed their

harsh brand of Islamic law.

But few dare say "warlord" aloud.

Ms. Joya's experience helps explain why. The assembly chairman,

Sebaghatullah Mojeddidi, himself a former mujahedeen leader, called

for security officers and tried to throw her out. He was persuaded

not to, but he then asked her to apologize to the gathering. She

refused. He finally accepted the apologies of others on her behalf.

"My sister, you did an astounding thing," Mr. Mojeddidi said. "You

have upset everybody here."

At a news conference, he said: "In fact we wanted to take her out for

the good of herself. Who can stand against mujahedeen to defend her?

They've stood against big powers.

"You know mujahedeen when they get angry at these things. They don't

care about anyone."

Two hours after she spoke, an ashen-faced Ms. Joya was in the United

Nations tent at the assembly, escorted by two women, members of the

security force. She later returned to the assembly but was closely

watched to ensure her safety. Amnesty International issued a press

release saying that some people present when she spoke had been heard

vowing to kill her.

After a similar assembly last year, a man who had complained about

jihadis, the most religiously conservative mujahedeen, was so

seriously threatened that he and his family won political asylum in

the West.

By accident or intent, Ms. Joya had stepped directly on the fault

line of a power struggle that has already emerged in the first few

days of this gathering.

On one side are the country's American-backed interim president,

Hamid Karzai, and his allies, who support a draft constitution that

ensures a strong presidency, in part to check the power of the

warlords.

On the other side are the jihadis. Many favor a parliamentary system

that would limit the power of Mr. Karzai and give greater weight to

Islam than the current draft does. They are suspicious of Western

involvement in the country's political affairs.

While Mr. Karzai's faction, backed by the international community,

may ultimately have the edge, his opponents have repeatedly showed

their strength.

When, for example, the chairman could not restore order after Ms.

Joya's speech, one of the men she was probably referring to — Abdul

Rasul Sayyaf, an imposing mujahedeen commander and Islamist scholar

whom many accuse of human rights atrocities — had little trouble

doing so.

He took the stage to quiet the crowd, then delivered a 15-minute

lecture (most delegates, Ms. Joya included, get two or three minutes)

implicitly accusing her of being a Communist. "When you are calling

those heroes who fought for the freedom of the country criminals," he

said, "it means you are a criminal yourself."

The previous day, Mr. Sayyaf and his allies had managed to gain

control of most of the assembly committees, where the real

discussions on the draft constitution will take place.

Under a plan devised by the constitutional commission and the United

Nations, the 502 delegates will divide into 10 committees of 50

people each to allow for more manageable discussion. The real aim,

however, is to prevent religious conservatives and those opposed to a

strong presidency from steamrolling the debate by intimidation or

sheer force of numbers, officials have admitted.

The jihadis had opposed the idea of committees on just those grounds,

then suddenly agreed to the idea on Tuesday afternoon. Mr. Sayyaf

called for the committees to be carefully structured so that each

included religious scholars, jihadis, lawyers and elders.

Later he won his way, a major concession by the constitutional

commission, which had intended to use a computer-run random

selection, one foreign official said.

At least six of the 10 committees have chosen jihadis as chairmen,

including the former president, Burhanuddin Rabbani, and Mr. Sayyaf.

No women were chosen to lead any committees, though there are about

100 women serving as delegates.

The 10 committee chairmen will wield considerable influence because

they will be part of the final reconciliation group that will prepare

amendments to put to the vote of the full assembly.

The jihadis' control of the committees had upset moderate delegates,

and may have provoked Ms. Joya's tirade on Wednesday. She referred to

the chairmen in her speech.

In a brief interview on Monday, before she became a very public

figure, Ms. Joya said she worked for a nongovernmental organization

in Farah, helping at the main hospital and running literacy programs

for women, and a nursery and an orphanage.

Her one goal, she said, was to "improve the women of Afghanistan."

She complained that security in Farah Province, where factional

commanders hold sway, often fighting amongst themselves, was so bad

that it was impossible to provide health care outside the capital.

And she had pointed out that she was the namesake of a legendary

Pashtun woman, Malalai, who had fought the British in 1880.

Ms. Joya's comments fiercely divided the women at the assembly. Some

called her brave. Others called her unprintable names for soiling the

memory of the warriors who had spilled blood for her country.

Fatima Gailani, a member of the constitutional commission, called her

rash. "I think she's very young," Ms. Gailani said.

She said she had met with Ms. Joya and explained to her that for the

country to move forward with unity, women had to proceed carefully.

"Till when should we keep quiet?" Ms. Joya had responded.

The answer was easy, Ms. Gailani said: "Till we are strong, till the

country is strong, till our democracy is strong, till women's

situation in this country is strong. Then we can open our mouths."

But Safia Sidiqi, a deputy chairwoman of the assembly, defended Ms.

Joya's right to speak freely. "If you are working for democracy here

in this country, this is one way, this is one step," she

said. "People should have freedom of _expression."

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