Lyse Doucet —The history of Kabul’s finest hotel tells the history of a nation

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On Big Ideas, meet legendary BBC Chief International correspondent, Lyse Doucet. She's reported from Afghanistan for four decades, and today on Radio National, she tells you the modern history of this nation and its people.

And she does that in her unique style, through a hotel in Kabul. The Inter-Continental was built in 1969, and it reflects every political system Afghanistan went through.

Lyse Doucet (1:08)

There was the kingdom. That was when the hotel was open, the star-studded reception. There was bikinis by the swimming pool, and Afghans went through the kingdom.

Not perfect by any means. Then it was the Soviet-backed communism. Then it was warlordism. Then it was Islamism under the Taliban. Then it was a would-be democracy back by the West. And then, of course, it was Taliban again. So whoever ruled Afghanistan set the rules in the hotel. What really struck me was that they carried themselves with such bearing, even though the black jacket was a little frayed, and the white shirt was a little gray. They still had this sense of, you know, that they're a waiter or they're a housekeeper.

They didn't use the word finest or the best hotel in Kabul. And they would say to me in all sincerity, this is the best hotel in the world.

Claire Nicholls (1:57)

Hello, I'm Claire Nicholls, sitting in on Big Ideas while Natasha Mitchell is away.

And Lyse Doucet's new book, The Finest Hotel in Kabul, A People's History of Afghanistan, is part memoir, part frontline history, part love letter. And at the 2026 Sydney Writers Festival, she spoke with journalist and author Debbie Whitmont about the transformation of Kabul under different regimes, about hope and a people's enduring sense of humour. So let's go via Sydney to this hotel on a hilltop, looking down over a city at war.

Debbie Whitmont (2:34)

These, let's start. You've covered all the major wars in the Middle East since the 1980s. You played the leading role in the BBC's coverage of the Arab Spring. You reported on the first protests and the Syrian uprising.

In Afghanistan, you dressed up as a boy to gain access to the Mujahideen. You followed their fighters on nighttime treks. You have a long-standing personal relationship, professional relationship, excuse me, with Hamid Karzai, the former president, to the extent that you were the only one present at an assassination attempt on him on the way to his brother's wedding in 2002

Lyse Doucet (3:08)

But I, but I, it wasn't me.

Debbie Whitmont (3:10)

No.

Lyse Doucet (3:10)

Yes, yes, yes, yes.

Debbie Whitmont (3:12)

It was not aimed at you.

You could have written one of those books of great daring do where you're there in your helmet, in your flak jacket, telling the thrilling tales of a war correspondent. But you didn't. You wrote a book about a hotel, The Inter-Continental Hotel in Kabul. Why?

Lyse Doucet (3:29)

Do you know what they say about journalists?

They say that every journalist, and in fact, the first people to say it would be, the journalists would say, every journalist has a story in them.

Most of us would say the story should stay in them.

But I want it, and there's this thing with publishers. Oh, there's publishers here. Okay, don't tell, if you meet any publishers, don't say that Lyse Doucet said this story. But a lot of publishers say, oh, you must write a memoir. You must, that British expression, which means of course it will never happen. You must write a memoir. But among some of us, we say, well, we don't really want to write a memoir. I couldn't bear the thought of sitting, writing is a very solitary act. I'm sure you've heard other writers here say the same thing. And the thought of not just doing a solitary act of writing, but thinking about myself the whole time, I just thought it could be unbearable. When I decided to write a book, it was at about the time where we have this expression, and I'm not sure if you use the same expression here. We call it news avoidance, which is that the news, let's be honest, dear people of the Sydney Writers Festival, the news is very glum, is very grim. And I would find myself in the morning with my radio, and turning the dial away from Radio 4 and BBC World Service, which are the news channels, and turning to Radio 3, which was the classical music.