Law, Control, Fear – and some Defiance: Citizens and enforcers talk about the ‘promotion of virtue and prevention of vice’

Kate Clark • AAN Team

Afghanistan Analysts Network

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It has been more than a year since the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan introduced a new vice and virtue law. This law lays out what behaviour and actions the Islamic Emirate deems obligatory or forbidden for Afghan men and women. It gives its enforcers wide-ranging powers to both police and punish ‘wrongdoers,’ who have no recourse to a court, nor right to appeal. Male enforcers are also among the very few men legally allowed to deal with unrelated women as part of their duties. This policing of women causes great distress and anxiety among Afghans. It plays on the fear of women and their families that they will be ‘dishonoured’ if unrelated men question them on the street or, far worse, take them into detention. Yet, fear is also mixed with defiance. The ramifications of the August 2024 law have been profound, as Kate Clark and the AAN team found when they heard from those experiencing it, both as citizens and enforcers.
You can preview the report online and download it by clicking here or the download button below.

Changing Afghans’ dress and behaviour to comply with the Emirate’s vision of sharia has been an abiding mission of the Taliban since they first emerged as a movement, but it is now being enforced with far greater reach and capacity. Unlike their first period in power, the second Emirate is able to pursue this mission without the distraction of war. In full control of Afghanistan’s territory and backed by a functioning state apparatus inherited from the Islamic Republic, the Ministry for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice is a powerful and well-resourced tool of the state for reshaping everyday life.

Drawing on interviews with women and men in Kabul and other provinces, as well as vice and virtue enforcers themselves, the report offers a window into how the Taliban’s morality law operates in practice. It examines how its enforcers seek to control behaviour and clothing on the streets and in workplaces, creating an atmosphere of fear that drives not only compliance but also defiance.

For many Afghan women, negotiating public space has become an arduous experience. Interviewees describe being admonished and threatened for what they wear, their movements, and for being outside without a close male relative, a mahram. Although we encountered men who fully support their female relatives wearing ‘normal’ clothes and going out unaccompanied, many families have resorted to policing wives, daughters and sisters to avoid them being harassed, publicly humiliated or detained. The overall effect has been a narrowing of women’s lives and heightened anxiety.

Enforcement, however, is uneven and the report documents regional variation as well as acts of defiance. Some interviewees challenge the Emirate’s interpretation of Islam itself, rejecting its fixation on outward appearance — such as the length of men’s beards or the visibility of women’s hair as missing the point of what is right and wrong and of what they, as Muslims, should be enjoined or forbidden to do. These tensions point to the limits of enforcing obedience through fear, even as fear remains a central tool of control.

The report also interviews enforcers to find out more about who they are, how they are recruited and trained and how they experience policing a population that often fears or resents them. All were from outside Kabul, but working in the capital and they found it an alien and alienating city. None felt comfortable interacting with unrelated women. Yet all the women we interviewed in Kabul had experienced intrusive interactions with enforcers in public places or women-only workplaces. The law gives male enforcers the power and opportunity to breach spaces generally considered — by culture and practice — to be exclusively female, as well as public spaces – streets, markets and shops – in which women could expect to be respected. It has left women vulnerable to abuse by men who act with all the authority of the state.

Earlier this year, we published A Year of Propagating Virtue and Preventing Vice, which examined the law’s impact in its first year. This report goes further and deeper, offering a granular picture of how the vice and virtue law is being enforced — and experienced — in Afghanistan.

Edited by Roxanna Shapour and Rachel Reid 

You can preview the report online and download it by clicking here or the download button below.

 

Law, Control, Fear – and some Defiance: Citizens and enforcers talk about the ‘promotion of virtue and prevention of vice’
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Arrested Development in Kabul: Housebuilding between legal hurdles and rising demand 

Nur Khan Himmat

Afghanistan Analysts Network

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Shortly after its return to power in August 2021, the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan (IEA) imposed new curbs on building in the capital. This, together with follow-up regulations issued by the Kabul Municipality and the Ministry of Urban Development and Housing, has entirely changed how the building sector operates in the capital and made it difficult for the average citizen to navigate the system. The restrictions caused an almost complete stop to construction, and that exacerbated an unemployment crisis caused by the withdrawal of foreign financial support to Afghanistan when the Taliban took power. Construction is important because, in major cities like Kabul, it has traditionally employed large numbers of skilled and unskilled labourers. AAN’s Nur Khan Himmat has reviewed the new construction regulations and interviewed workers, businessmen and those wanting to build a home to better understand the impact of the new regulations on jobs and the Kabul property market. 

I own a factory here in Kabul making toilet pipes. We used to produce three types of pipe, until the IEA’s new building requirements ruined my business. I waited for about a year after they announced the building permits, hoping things would improve and construction work would pick up again. While I waited, I gave pipes on credit to shopkeepers worth four million afghani [USD 60,600]. But they couldn’t repay me because they couldn’t sell any pipes; there was no construction in the city. My sales dropped significantly, eventually reaching zero. This is when I left and moved to Lahore because I thought I’d spend all of my money for nothing. I used to employ 40 people. Now I have only two employees. One is guarding my factory and the other is an engineer; I changed his duties to marketing officer. He’s now going to the market to see if we can recover those four million afghani from the shopkeepers.

Businessman Shah Mahmud was not the only interviewee to lose customers or entire businesses because of the post-2021 building regulations in Kabul. He was quick to close his business in Afghanistan and move to Pakistan to run “a much smaller enterprise” that, as he said, “is not very prosperous.” However, many others were slower to change. We heard from ten more interviewees, all men in Kabul: six working in house construction, either as skilled or unskilled day labourers or as business owners producing construction materials. The remaining four interviewees were: a property owner who had only customary ownership deeds to his house, a house owner who had secured a construction permit, a land developer, and a neighbourhood representative (wakil-e guzar). Some of the interviewees wished to remain anonymous.

Decades of unregulated housebuilding 

Land development and construction were Kabul’s most profitable economic sector for the best part of the two Republican decades (2001-21). Spurred on by the massive influx of foreign funds and seen as an investment by many prominent Afghans, house-building in the capital only showed signs of slowing when the number of internationals began to reduce after 2014 (with the end of NATO’s ISAF mission and a reduction in civilian aid) and in the last years of the Islamic Republic, when some members of the Afghan elite began to relocate out of the country.[1] At a lower level, namely that of less wealthy Afghans moving from the provinces to Kabul in search of security or employment, housebuilding continued up to the very fall of the Republic.

Most of the construction, however, did not comply with the law. By 2004, informal settlements accounted for 70 per cent of Kabul’s residential areas, according to the World Bank and this percentage only increased over the years. Despite all being called ‘informal settlements’, they are actually very varied, ranging from the palace-style mansions built by powerful land-grabbers in central neighbourhoods like Sherpur to little more than shacks giving shelter to newly-arrived families settling in peripheral or steep-sided areas of the city. While the informal settlements built by families constructing their own homes prevented a major crisis of homelessness in the capital, allowing the city’s housing to keep pace with the arrival of newcomers, including displaced persons and returnees, they also posed a future challenge to any government wanting to regulate the urban landscape and implement a master plan.[2]

The issue of what type of ownership document one has is a critical thread running through this report. Most property owners – 80 per cent, according to a former housing minister – only have an urfi qabala, customary deeds, which are not legally recognised, under both Islamic law and Afghanistan’s civil law.[3] Only a sharia qabala, a legal ownership document, is recognised by the courts. However, as this report will show, even those holding a sharia qabala often struggle to get permission from the authorities to build.

The birth of the construction permit

One of the first decisions of the Islamic Emirate after taking power in August 2021 was to stop unplanned and unapproved construction. Kabul Municipality banned house construction in Kabul on 27 September 2021: the aim, according to a Pajhwok report (Pajhwok), was to prevent illegal high-rise buildings. Several months later, on 13 May 2022, the Ministry of Urban Development and Housing (MUDH) explained in a statement that “the houses and buildings constructed without proving ownership have created problems and have caused barriers and delays in urban development.” It went on: “Carrying out unauthorised house construction impacts the assets of our compatriots. Most of the time, it threatens the lives of compatriots and impedes the implementation of the government’s huge and beneficial plans.”

However, on 22 August 2022, the ban was lifted. Kabul Municipality said the change of heart was due to the need for urban expansion, job creation, economic activity, and the provision of facilities for those who wanted to construct high-rise buildings. The Kabul Municipality’s Spokesman, Niamatullah Barakzai, told Azadi Radio: “The people who possess land and want to build houses, they can apply for permission from the Kabul Municipality. First, the Land Department[4]  will check their ownership documents, whether they are legal or customary and after they have been confirmed, the municipality will issue permission [to build] within three days.” However, this opportunity to apply for a permit lasted only six months, most of them in winter, when harsh weather – snow, frost and below-zero temperatures – makes it impossible to build.

Then, eight months later, on 24 April 2023, the policy was again reversed. The Ministry of Urban Development and Housing Spokesman, Muhammad Kamal Afghan, said (Salam Watandar):

Construction work has been banned across Kabul because most tall buildings as well as residential and commercial buildings have been built in places in Kabul that contradict the master plan. These have caused problems. Therefore, construction has been banned for a short time.

He did not specify how long the “short time” would last. Then, on 11 May 2023, MUDH clarified in a statement that the ban applied only to construction without a permit:

All respected citizens are hereby informed to refrain from constructing houses arbitrarily in the cities. The unplanned and unsystematic construction of buildings and houses has created many problems in cities, hindered equitable development and resulted in time inefficiencies and the waste of the Emirate’s and citizens’ resources.

Kabul Municipality echoed this, with spokesman Barakzai saying on 22 September 2024: “House construction in Kabul is permitted and each inhabitant of Kabul can build a one to ten-storey building.” He further explained that the permission was conditional on there being proof of land or house ownership and on permission for house building from the municipality having been obtained (Salam Watandar).

The purpose of the new requirement was to create “a beautiful Kabul,” Barakzai said in the Kabul Municipality accountability session held in late July 2025: “Therefore, it is indispensable for every single owner of a house to have a legal document from the Land Department to prove that the house belongs to him.”[5] Barakzai also said that the IEA did not want houses to be built and then destroyed and it did not  “want to be criticised after the destruction of houses because of road construction or any other plan of the government.” (RTA)

From our observations, it seems that building permits are mainly issued to large investors constructing buildings of five to ten stories – exactly the type of building the initial September 2021 decree was designed to stop. Several buildings of this type currently under construction are visible, for example, in the Qala-e Fathullah area of district 10. Interviews with ordinary and poor Kabulis, on the other hand, suggest they are ignored in the Land Department and are unable to get permission to build homes. The building of ordinary homes stopped with the arrival of the Emirate and has barely restarted, unlike the high-rise buildings that are now under construction. The overall effect of contradictory statements and government bodies’ mixed attitudes, combined with the difficulties of navigating the required paperwork, has been to slow house construction. That has also hurt employment in Kabul, especially for the poorest – most construction workers are day labourers or labourers working for a company.

Labourers and businessmen speak about the downturn in construction

Day labourers who previously worked in construction told us they were now unable to find work. One man, with a family of nine, said they now depend on one of the daughters, who is employed as a teacher at a private school and earns 3,000 afghani [USD 40] per month, because he cannot find workHe used to go to a chowk (square) every day from 6:00 am to 11:00 am seeking work for the day. Under the Republic, he said he would find work as a day labourer, but not anymore. After seeking work every day for the last five months, he had become disillusioned and begun to look for other ways to earn some money:

I knew there was no work to be found [in Kabul]. I’m in debt for about 20,000 afghani [USD 300]. I tried to go to Iran. There were smugglers in Nimruz province who could have taken me to Iran and our villagers were willing to lend me money to pay them, but I couldn’t even afford to get myself to Nimruz. 

Other interviewees had also tried to get to Iran – some with more success. Another day labourer described how he had managed to get there, but only to stay for a few months:

When the IEA banned construction and I couldn’t find work in Kabul, I got a passport and a visa for Iran and went there. The work was good, but I wasn’t allowed to stay long. Iran also made the conditions for staying stricter for Afghans. I didn’t get a visa extension, so I had to come back.

Some interviewees had lived off their savings but soon spent them and then were living hand-to-mouth, as another day labourer described:

Before the arrival of the Emirate, I always had around 400-500,000 afghani [USD 6-7,000] in my bank account. But now I have no money at home. I haven’t paid the rent for four months – I struggle to find the money for it. I have spent eight years in this house. Luckily, the owner puts up with my poverty.

Another day labourer told AAN:

I can hardly find any work nowadays. I tried to get my son engaged and married. He was engaged and we held the nika ceremony. I thought work would pick up again, but it hasn’t. My son’s been waiting for the past three years to bring his wife home, but there just isn’t enough money to cover the wedding expenses. 

Traders involved in house construction, such as those that produce or sell lintels or iron rods, are also affected. Several iron-melting factory owners in Kabul told Salam Watandar in April 2025 that the new requirements for house construction had severely affected their businesses and caused a nationwide decline in iron production. The news website quoted a representative of Rahim Gardizi Group in Kabul, Masihullah, who said the new requirements had also led to job losses. Their business, which had previously employed 400 to 500 people, could now afford only 80 to 90. The article also quoted the head of Mesam Iron Factory, Shafiq Ahmad, who described how badly his business was affected as market demand plummeted. “We were producing 200 tonnes of iron daily,” he said, “but now we can’t produce even 50 tonnes.” His experience was echoed by the owner of another company that sells construction materials:

My business has been severely affected. I sold construction materials for house construction, including beams, gates, cement and other items. We were two partners. When the Emirate banned construction at the very beginning, my partner said he wanted to sell his share. He said he didn’t think the Emirate would allow people to build houses anytime soon. I bought his part of the business from him. He was fortunate; he went to Dubai and began working there, while I was stuck with the company.

The company owner said 70 people used to work for him, including drivers, day labourers, blacksmiths, painters of beams, and others. The collapse of the market in Kabul has meant a plummeting in the number of labourers he can employ:

My business has now all but stopped. I can hardly meet my own expenses, including my company’s rent and some money for my family’s daily needs. I’ve been waiting for four years for construction to fully restart and for my business to flourish, but it hasn’t. Only seven people are now working with me. 

Carpenters, who used to manufacture doors and cupboards for the new houses, have also been hit. One man who worked for a company with more than 400 employees, including as many as 80 carpenters, said that a few months after the new requirements, the company had gone out of business:

We were told to go home. They promised they’d call us back to work once house construction was allowed again. We kept calling the owner, but the company never resumed operations. I waited for six months. When I realised that it was the end, I rented a shop on the outskirts of Kabul. It’s now been more than two years since I opened my own shop. But believe me, I can only find enough work to pay the rent for my shop. My life used to be good! I was earning a good wage under the Republic. I have now spent all the money I earned over the last twenty years. Fortunately, one of my sons is abroad with his family. He sends some money from time to time and I live off that money. 

Nowadays, many families depend on daily wages, if work can be found, or, like the carpenter, remittances sent by relatives abroad. As reported in a previous AAN report on remittances from the Gulf, these are a lifeline for many households and for the country as a whole: the World Bank estimated total remittances in 2022 at 1-1.2 billion USD, double the amount sent home in 2019. As a means of comparison, in 2022, UN shipments of dollars used to pay for humanitarian aid amounted to 1.8 billion USD. (AAN). Since the collapse of the Republic, hundreds of thousands of Afghans have migrated to Western countries and many send money to their impoverished relatives in Afghanistan. Remittances from Iran and Pakistan, on the other hand, have been shrinking because of the high number of Afghans forced to return from those countries.

Impact of the new requirements on homeowners

AAN also heard from several homeowners and a wakil-e guzar (neighbourhood representative), all of whom said that for those with only customary documents (urfi qabala), the new regulations amount to an outright ban on building. It is impossible for them to get permission because the IEA says the land they want to build on is state land. They cannot build new homes nor build extensions to their existing houses. However, the interviewees also said that, even for holders of legal deeds (sharia qabala), getting a building permit was extremely difficult, as there is an additional hurdle: the deeds need to be verified by the Land Department. Trying to get that verification, they reported, is complicated and marred by bureaucratic delays and corruption.[6]

The IEA is strictly enforcing the requirement for a building permit, with government engineers and other employees patrolling the city’s various districts, making it impossible for citizens to build a house without one. When needed, the IEA enlists district police officers for this purpose. They check for construction work and ask owners to show them their written permission from the municipality. If they do not have a permit, the police order them to halt the work. If the owner does not stop, they return with officials from the municipality and machinery to pull down houses and destroy whatever work has been carried out. A wakil-e guzar told AAN that they had been told in a WhatsApp group to inform the head of the district whenever they noticed construction work in their area. “If any construction work is found ongoing,” he said the message stated, “and the representative of the street or wakil-e guzar has not informed the relevant officials, they will both be dealt with according to the law [ie held accountable].”

One of our interviewees, Gul Alam, who possesses only customary ownership documents, told us about the new room in his two-bedroom house that he had wanted to build to accommodate his newly-married son:

I was adding a room for my son, who was getting married last year. I’d started work when the municipal officials arrived. They asked me for my permit and then stopped me building the room. I waited for nine months, but there was still no progress. Finally, I rented out my house for 5,000 Afghani [USD 70] a month to someone else and I rented a house with four rooms [for myself] for 9,000 Afghani [USD 130].

Yet, proving land or house ownership and securing a permit from the ministry and municipality is a lengthy and tedious process, as a land developer explained:

I have a lot of experience in this, know the offices and officials very well, and know how to get permission. Still, it takes me more than three months to get a house construction permit. It must take poor people, who are unfamiliar with government offices and this kind of work, twice as long.

According to a house construction company, it does take that long – more than six months – for an ordinary person to get proof of ownership from the Land Department and Housing. That can also entail, said the developer, either getting a recommendation from someone with good connections or facing a demand for a bribe. Another interviewee, Ahmad Khan, who does have legal deeds for his land, said:

I had my sharia qabala in my hand. I wanted to build a house for myself in District 7. I went to the municipality to get permission. I was told to go and bring proof that the land where I want to build the house belongs to me. I struggled for two months, but couldn’t get the proof of ownership I needed to get a permit to build a house. Finally, I decided to continue paying rent for the house I live in, which costs 8,000 afghani [USD 120]. I gave up because I knew I would either have to pay a bribe, although nobody had asked for one, or have a trustworthy person recommend my case. I didn’t know anyone to give me a recommendation and I didn’t want to pay a bribe either. Therefore, I gave up trying to prove my ownership. 

Like Ahmad Khan, others who tried to use their legal documents to prove land ownership and obtain a building permit also reported failure, while others, like this man, said they did finally succeed, but only after paying a bribe:

I have legal documents and I tried to get permission to build my house from the Emirate. First, I tried to prove ownership of my land using my legal documents, but because of bureaucracy and the lengthy process, I couldn’t prove it and couldn’t get a building permit. I struggled for more than a year. I was exhausted and abandoned the application in the middle of it all. But then I found an Emirate official in the relevant department and asked him to help me. We agreed that I’d give him USD 2,000 and that he’d help me get a permit. I gave him the sum in advance and, finally, I built my house.

According to another homeowner, although there is less demand for bribes under the current government than under the Republic, when such requests are made, the amounts are enormous. “People can’t just adopt the shortcut of giving a bribe and getting a go-ahead for their construction work. It would cripple the house owner financially.” Despite the IEA’s repeated claims of easing the permission process, all our interviewees said that, in practice, it remains complicated.

Maybe the most telling is a story of a homeowner who possesses a customary document and tried to obtain permission to rebuild his house. For this, he went to the relevant department but was told that customary document holders are not allowed to build houses at all. Ultimately, he decided to seek help from someone in the government. He said he got in touch with an Emirate official and made a deal with him, though the outcome was ultimately disastrous:

I gave a 2,000-model Corolla car to this Emirate official. He instructed me to proceed with the construction of the house. I began working on it, feeling confident that no one would stop me. For about two months, I worked on building my house. After that period, officials from the municipality, along with the police, arrived and brought a crane to demolish my home. I pleaded with them many times not to destroy it, but despite my pleas, they demolished my house and left. Additionally, my 2,000-model Corolla, which is worth around USD 5,000, was lost.

Trying to sell a house

The next problem for those holding deeds, whether legal or customary, is trying to sell the house. AAN heard from a property dealer in Kabul who said the new requirement was also affecting the housing market: “When attempting to sell someone’s home, buyers request proof of ownership from the Land Department, which most people don’t have.” Selling land with only customary documents, he said, is even more of a challenge: “The IEA has repeatedly sent us letters warning that we [property dealers] should not sell land, houses, shops or other assets belonging to people who only possess customary documents.”

On 1 August 2025, the IEA circulated a draft law on land deeds (AAN received a copy).[7] It states that the IEA will sell land to those claiming to own it by the possession of customary documents, subject to certain caveats, that they have not been found guilty of land-grabbing themselves, and with a limit on the maximum amount of land they and their relatives can re-purchase (see caveats in footnote 7). The law would also outlaw those identified by the Land-Grabbing Prevention and Restitution Commission as usurpers of land from buying land. It remains unknown when the law will be ratified and when land prices will be finalised.

The future of Kabul’s housing market

Kabul Municipality’s most recent move, in late July 2025, to allow and even promote building activities, demonstrates the government’s interest in attracting investment and raising funds through issuing building permits. But these policies have also restricted the ability of most residents to build or make improvements to their houses and have sharply reduced employment in one of Kabul’s most important labour markets.

After years of crisis, the property market in Afghanistan, especially in Kabul but also in other major cities, has seen increased demand and rising prices, which have only intensified since the start of mass forced returns of Afghans from Iran and Pakistan – more than four million since September 2023 (IOM). Most returnees seek to settle in cities, although not all are permitted to do so by the IEA. While many face economic hardship, some still have cash to invest – whether to pay rent in advance or to purchase flats and houses. This has intensified competition in the housing market, with many Kabul residents complaining about eviction pressures driven by rising rents.

Supply, however, has not kept pace with demand. Although high-profile construction projects have restarted and some partially constructed buildings are now being completed, including high-rises that had long been abandoned due to the ban or lack of funding, these are largely driven by large investors rather than ordinary residents. For the average Kabuli seeking to build or expand a home, getting a building permit for those with legal documents is difficult and complicated, and for those without recognised ownership documents, it is next to impossible.

The decline in property sales caused by the new regulations has not led to a fall in land or house prices. As AAN reported in December 2024, prices did fall after the collapse of the Republic, but only for about two years. Since then, demand has picked up, but supply has not, pushing property prices – and rents – to skyrocket. They are now almost back up to where they were during the Republic. Afghans with some capital to invest, such as households with family members abroad sending remittances, are trying hard to invest in property. But property, especially property that can be legally sold, has become increasingly difficult to find and this heightened demand, in turn, keeps driving up prices.

The IEA’s attempt to regulate Kabul’s long-out-of-control construction sector and to prioritise government and municipal planning in urban development has so far been only partly successful, for example, in building roads. These gains, however, have come at a very high cost for Kabul residents, both old and new. Policies which end up creating roadblocks in the lives of ordinary citizens risk opening the door to abuse and corruption, as law-abiding citizens are forced to seek loopholes and shortcuts to get around them. Addressing the crises in employment and housing in a fair and equitable way will require a major readjustment to the policies implemented so far.

Edited by Jelena Bjelica, Fabrizio Foschini and Kate Clark

References

References
1 For a backgrounder on Kabul’s political economy under the Islamic Republic, see Fabrizio Foschini, Kabul and the challenge of dwindling foreign aid, United States Institute of Peace, 2017.
2 For more on the impact of the lack of planning on water supply and sewerage, see Mohammad Assem MayarAfghanistan’s Urban Water Dilemma: Why are Afghan cities running out of water?, AAN, 17 September 2025.
3 The acting Minister of Urban Development and Housing, Hamdullah Numan, said on 28 June 2023 that “80 per cent of land in Afghanistan is owned by people who only have informal documents, which are not acceptable to the courts, based on current rules and regulations” (Pajhwok).
4 The Land Department, formerly part of the Ministry of Urban Development and Housing during the Republic, was later brought into the Ministry of Agriculture, Irrigation and Livestock by the IEA. Subsequently, the IEA announced the Land-Grabbing Prevention and Restitution Commission would be elevated to a permanent ministry in late 2024 and that all the Land Department’s tashkil (authorised staff) would merge with the new ministry. However, the ministry has yet to receive its tashkil, no minister has been appointed and no site has been designated to house it.
5 In the accountability sessions, held in the last years of the Republic and now under the Emirate, senior officials relay to journalists, radio listeners and television viewers the achievements of their ministry or other state body during the previous year. See Martine van Bijlert, How The Emirate Wants to be Perceived: A closer look at the Accountability Programme, Afghanistan Analysts Network, 9 July 2024 and Kate Clark and Roxanna Shapour, What Do the Taleban Spend Afghanistan’s Money On? Government expenditure under the Islamic Emirate, Afghanistan Analysts Network, 16 March 2023.
6 See Rohullah Sorush, Months, Years and Thousands of Afghanis Later… Stories of Afghans battling bureaucracy, AAN, 7 July 2025, for a flavour of what it is like to get a document from a government body. Although Sorush does not deal with land deeds, the difficulties faced by those trying to get passports, IDs, driving licences or marriage certificates are similarly Sisyphean.
7 Below are highlights from the draft law, drawing on AAN’s unofficial translation:In the first line of article 15 of the second chapter of the draft, it is stated that land which has been reclaimed by the Land-Grabbing Prevention and Restitution Commission shall not be sold to those who have been identified as land grabbers by the court.

Line 4 states: “The land resituated by the mentioned commission shall be sold to the current owners at a specified price [prices will be specified by the authorities after the ratification of this law by the supreme leader of the IEA].”

Line 5 states that if a person has more than four nomra of land [1,200 square metres], the excess will be repossessed by the IEA. This excess land will not be sold to the current owner or their blood relatives, or spouse or any underage offspring.

Line 6 states that if a person has more than four nomra of customary land, the excess will be taken from them and distributed to other entitled persons.

However, the law has not yet been ratified, so land prices continue to be determined by supply and demand and prices set by the owners.

Arrested Development in Kabul: Housebuilding between legal hurdles and rising demand 
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Afghanistan: Forced returns to Taliban rule must end as latest figures reveal millions unlawfully deported in 2025

Amnesty International

16 December 2025

All forced returns of refugees and asylum seekers to Afghanistan must immediately end, Amnesty International said, as the latest UN figures revealed that Iran and Pakistan alone have unlawfully expelled more than 2.6 million people to the country this year. About 60% of those returned are women and children. Thousands of others have been deported from Turkey and Tajikistan.    

The figures come as the Taliban intensify their attacks on human rights with devastating effect particularly on women and girls, and the country remains in the grip of a humanitarian crisis, which has been further exacerbated by the recent series of natural disasters. Afghanistan’s deepening humanitarian crisis increases the real risk of serious harm for returnees and underscores states’ binding non-refoulement obligations under customary international law, which prohibits the forcible return of anyone to a place where they face a real risk of grave human rights violations.

This year, European states have also ramped up efforts to forcibly return Afghans, with media reporting GermanyAustria, and the European Union in negotiations with the de facto Taliban authorities to facilitate forced returns.

“Despite the Taliban’s well-documented repression of human rights, many states, including Iran, Pakistan, Turkey, Tajikistan Germany and Austria, are clamouring to deport Afghans to a country where violations particularly against women, girls and dissenting voices are widespread and systematic. This is without even mentioning the dire and deepening humanitarian crises, with more than 22 million people – nearly half of the country’s population – in need of assistance,” said Smriti Singh, Amnesty International’s Regional Director for South Asia.

This rush to forcibly return people to Afghanistan ignores why they fled in the first place and the serious dangers they face if sent back

Smriti Singh, Amnesty International’s Regional Director for South Asia

“This rush to forcibly return people to Afghanistan ignores why they fled in the first place and the serious dangers they face if sent back. It shows a clear disregard for states’ international obligations and violates the binding principle of non-refoulement.”

Under the Taliban, women and girls are being systematically erased from public life. They are banned from education beyond the age of 12, their freedom of movement and expression are denied, and they are prohibited from working with the UN, NGOs, or in state affairs – except in exceptional cases such as airport security, primary education, and healthcare. Those who worked for the former government – specifically members of the Afghanistan National Defence and Security Forces (ANDSF) – or those criticizing the Taliban’s draconian policies, including human rights defenders and journalists, also face continued severe reprisals.

Amnesty International conducted 11 remote interviews: seven with those who were forced to return to Afghanistan from Iran and Pakistan, and four with Afghan refugees and asylum seekers who were at risk of immediate deportation from Iran and Pakistan, between July and November 2025. One of the four interviewed, fearing arrest by the Taliban, managed to return to the country from which she had been deported.

Attacks against former government employees

Following recent cross border clashes with the Taliban, Pakistan has intensified its efforts to deport Afghan refugees. Meanwhile, in Iran, at least 2.6 million Afghans were registered in 2022 for temporary protection and access basic services, including public education, work authorization and state healthcare, via a “headcount” document. However, on 12 March 2025 Iran’s Centre for Foreign Nationals and Immigration Affairs, which falls under the Ministry of Interior, announced that “headcount” documents for Afghans would automatically expire from the start of the year 1404 on Iran’s calendar (corresponding to 21 March 2025), and that access to socioeconomic services would be terminated.

The Iranian authorities’ mass expulsions scaled up in the aftermath of the escalation of hostilities between Israel and Iran in June 2025, and between July and October 2025, over 900,000 Afghans were unlawfully expelled from Iran, out of 1.6 million between January and October 2025.

Shukufa* worked with the former Afghan government and at an international organization prior to the Taliban takeover in August 2021. She fled to Iran in early 2022, but was forcibly returned a few months later after her visa expired. Immediately after returning, she fled to Pakistan where she managed to register for asylum with the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR). But in June 2025, the police raided her house, and she was deported to Afghanistan along with her family members.

She described the situation under the Taliban: “We cannot freely leave our home… there are no job opportunities. Girls’ schools are closed. There are no employment opportunities. We [as former government officials and activists] cannot directly go to the Taliban-run offices for fear of being recognized.”

Several former government officials, members of the former security forces, and activists who spoke to Amnesty International said that they live in fear and could not return to their provinces or previous residences due to their past work and activism. Despite announcing a general amnesty for those who worked under the former government, the Taliban have persistently targeted former government officials and members of security and defence forces with arbitrary arrests, torture, unlawful detention, and extrajudicial killings.

These abuses have continued, including against individuals who have been forcibly returned. The UN Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA) documented 21 instances of arbitrary arrest, torture, and ill-treatment, along with the killings of 14 former members of the security and defence personnel between July and September 2025 alone. On 21 November, an Afghan media outlet operating from abroad reported that Taliban had arrested five former security personnel who had been deported from Iran and were on their way to their home province, Panjshir.

Shukufa*, who worked with the previous government, said: “I cannot go the place where I previously lived. Someone else is staying in the house. We have rented a house in a different location… My husband worked in the security agencies. He is also afraid for his security.”

Gull Agha*, who worked in the security and defence agencies prior to August 2021, was forced to return from Iran in April 2025 after his “headcount” document was declared expired. He said the Iranian officials had claimed that he and other Afghan nationals could re-enter Iran by applying for work visas at the Iranian consulate and embassy in Afghanistan without acknowledging the grave risks Gull Agha and others like him would face if returned to Afghanistan.

He said: “Though we were told that (in Afghanistan) we can refer [ourselves] to the Iranian Consulate for a work visa, since I am a former security personnel, I cannot go and apply for a [Afghan] passport at the passport department. It has all my biometric data.”

He also said those who had approached the Iranian consulate were told no such ‘work visa’ programme existed.

In August 2025, a survey by UNHCR reported that 82% of the returnees were in debt due to displacement, a lack of jobs, and loans taken to meet basic needs upon arrival in Afghanistan.

Persecution of women and girls

Despite facing some of the worst gender-based discrimination in the world – amounting to the crime against humanity of gender persecution – women and girls are being deported to Afghanistan in large numbers. According to UN estimates, half of those deported from Pakistan were women and girls, while 30% of deportees from Iran up to June 2025 were women and girls.

All states must immediately stop forced returns and uphold their non-refoulement obligations under international law

Smriti Singh

Women’s rights activist Sakina* fled to Pakistan after the Taliban takeover in 2021 but was forcibly returned in September 2025, despite being registered with UNHCR and being listed on a US humanitarian resettlement programme.

The Taliban twice arrested and beat members of Sakina’s family to reveal her whereabouts. Upon her return to Afghanistan, she moved to a different province before escaping the country again.

“I did not leave the house during my stay in Afghanistan. Women are afraid of the Taliban. I felt [hope] had died in people because of the fear from the Taliban. I was not only afraid that the Taliban would recognize me, but also, I was afraid that the Taliban would arrest me for not wearing hijab,” Sakina told Amnesty International.

“All states must immediately stop forced returns and uphold their non-refoulement obligations under international law. Failing to do so means ignoring the grave dangers Afghans face and turning away from their legal and moral responsibilities. States must also widen and fast-track resettlement routes and recognize Afghan human rights defenders, women and girls, former officials, journalists, and others at increased risk, as prima facie refugees,” said Smriti Singh.

*Names changed to protect identities

Afghanistan: Forced returns to Taliban rule must end as latest figures reveal millions unlawfully deported in 2025
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Afghan Women Spoke: The People’s Tribunal for Afghan Women listened

Rachel Reid

Afghanistan Analysts Network

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The judges of the People’s Tribunal for the Women of Afghanistan have found the Taliban guilty of the crime against humanity of gender persecution. Although this civil society tribunal does not have the force of law, it was conceived as a platform that could powerfully amplify the voices of women from both inside and outside Afghanistan, engage national and international media and provide evidence for any future prosecutions. The hearings were held in Madrid in October, after which the international panel of eight judges reviewed the evidence. They delivered their verdict in The Hague, where they also warned of the political ramifications of any normalisation of the Emirate’s diplomatic status. AAN’s Rachel Reid attended both the hearings and the verdict and heard from prosecutors, witnesses, organisers and experts about what the tribunal set out to do and what its findings might yet set in motion. 

The People’s Tribunal for the Women of Afghanistan’s panel of judges read their final judgment during a session in The Hague. Photo: Rachel Reid, AAN, 11 December 2025
These are not just my words; this is the pain of women who have been silent for the past four years and could not speak out. They were alive but not living; they were just breathing.
The words of Witness 14 at the People’s Tribunal for the Women of Afghanistan, dedicating her testimony to all the women she described as having been silenced for the last four years. Her testimony was just one of many memorable moments in two days of hearings. Some witnesses gave their testimony in person, though some concealed their identities; testimony from inside Afghanistan came in the form of voice notes or written statements with simultaneous translation.

The Tribunal comes at a time when several countries are moving toward diplomatic engagement with the Emirate, despite, often at the same time, decrying its restrictions on women and girls. The fear of creeping normalisation was one factor driving the setting up of the Tribunal. It was requested by and primarily organised by four Afghan NGOs, with the assistance of the Permanent People’s Tribunal (PPT), which has convened such tribunals since 1979, often to address crimes that would otherwise not be tackled by international justice mechanisms. Although the International Criminal Court issued arrest warrants for two senior Taliban leaders for the crime of gender persecution in July 2025, the Afghan organisers fear that arrests might be a distant prospect.

The witnesses provided the emotional power of the indictment, presented by four Afghan prosecutors, in which they accused ten individual Taliban leaders and the Taliban as a group and as the de facto rulers of Afghanistan of the crime of gender persecution and several other violations of international human rights law. The Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan (IEA), which defends its policies towards women as religiously ordained, ignored multiple requests to provide a defence.

The tribunal was livestreamed in its entirety by Afghan media via satellite TV across Afghanistan and beyond, with around 350,000 people watching or engaging both the hearings and verdict on social media. People attending the hearings received photographs of friends and relatives in Afghanistan watching the proceedings in real time, in secret.

This report will provide an overview of the indictment and the testimony, as well as hearing from witnesses, organisers and experts on the tribunal’s political and legal significance.

The Hearings 

The hearings were held in Madrid from October 8-10. They were opened by the Executive Director of Rawadari, Shaharzad Akbar, with a clear enunciation of the reasons why they had brought it into being:

We want this tribunal to be a platform to share the struggle of women, as well as to highlight their inspiring resistance. This tribunal will enable them to claim their right to be seen to speak and to demand justice in the face of the world’s most extreme system of gender-based oppression… The Taliban for now, make themselves untouchable through brutality. They maintain their violent patriarchal dystopia through the stolen lives of our mothers, our sisters, our daughters. We will not relinquish those lives. We will not relinquish hope. This tribunal puts on record the suffering of our sisters. It’s a form of resistance and remembrance. 

Akbar was personally instrumental in instigating this People’s Tribunal, but the event itself was a feat of organisation by Rawadari and three other Afghan NGOs, Afghanistan Human Rights and Democracy Organization (AHRDO), DROPS (Organization for Policy Research and Development Studies) and Human Rights Defenders Plus (HRD+). Organising such a tribunal often takes a year or more: this event was pulled together in just eight months.

The hearings were held over two days in Madrid at the offices of the Madrid Bar Association, a nineteenth-century building with gilded décor and walls lined with law books, lending the event a sense of grandeur. Around 100 people attended, mostly victims and survivors, along with some invited experts, UN officials and observers from the International Criminal Court. The panel of eight international judges sat on an elevated podium throughout the proceedings.[1]

The four Afghan prosecutors, Benafsha Yaqoobi, Orzala Nemat, Moheb Mudessir, and Azadah Raz Mohammad, had submitted their indictment to the judges in advance of the hearings and opened proceedings by presenting their core allegations. The indictment focused on the crime against humanity of gender persecution and numerous violations of international human rights law.[2] The prosecutors also made a case for the codification of a new crime of gender apartheid, a campaign initiated in 2023 to put the systematic and institutionalised nature of the Emirate’s policies towards women on a legal par with existing laws against systems of racial apartheid (explored in this AAN report). The prosecutors encouraged the judges to add their authority to the gender apartheid campaign in their verdict.

The indictment named the Taliban as a group and the State of Afghanistan as responsible for these crimes, as well as listing ten IEA leaders whom they said bore individual criminal responsibility (spellings as per the indictment):

  • Habatullah Akhundzada (Supreme Leader);
  • Sirajuddin Haqqani (Minister of Interior);
  • Mullah Mohammad Yaqoob (Minister of Defence);
  • Abdul Ghani Baradar (Deputy Prime Minister);
  • Noor Mohammad Saqib (Minister of Hajj and Religious Affairs);
  • Sheikh Muhammad Khalid Hanafi (Minister for Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice);
  • Shaikh Abdul Hakim Haqqani (Chief Justice of the Supreme Court);
  • Neda Mohammad Nadeem (Minister of Higher Education);
  • Habibullah Agha (Minister of Education); and
  • Abdul Haq Wasiq (Director of the General Directorate of Intelligence, GDI).

In her opening statement, Azadah Raz Mohammad explained that the prosecutors would establish that “the Taliban’s policies on gender persecution are not isolated or random. They’re systematic, institutionalised, and intentionally directed at women and girls solely on the basis of their gender. This is the very essence of gender-based persecution under international criminal law.”

Another prosecutor, Orzala Nemat, told AAN that the indictment had taken them months of work. The team had reviewed and cross-referenced evidence from academic journals and “credible” organisations and institutions, as well as considering the international treaties and conventions to which Afghanistan is a signatory, to clarify the legal framework. They also had a careful process of selecting witnesses, as well as interviewing the witnesses “several times, to make sure that the witnesses are ready and prepared to come and present their testimony in this tribunal.”

The witnesses

The testimony from the witnesses brought the many aspects of the crime of gender persecution into sharp focus. Their accounts were at times harrowing, yet the witnesses spoke with dignity, defiance and clarity of purpose. Several witnesses spoke of being assaulted in the streets, detained and tortured. Others spoke of the mental and financial strain caused by the sudden loss of their jobs, hopes for higher education and career ambitions.

For their security and that of their family members inside Afghanistan, witnesses were identified only by number rather than by names. Some came to the hearings in person, having fled into exile since 2021, though many still covered their faces. Others, still inside the country, sent testimony in the form of voice notes or written statements, which were read aloud by volunteers in the room, with simultaneous translation into three languages (Dari, Pashto and English).

As an indication of how determined some were to testify, one woman who could not send her audio testimony because of the two-day internet blackout in Afghanistan, made a risky and difficult journey to the border of a neighbouring country, just to find an internet connection and send her statement.

Protests, detentions and torture 

Several of the witnesses had been part of the protests in the early weeks and months of the Emirate’s rule. Witness 22 recalled 15 August 2021, when the Taliban took over Kabul: “On that day, we lost everything we believed in.” She explained why she had felt she had no choice but to take to the streets: “The Taliban, from their very first days, denied women the right to education. And day by day, their restrictions increased, which was intolerable for us. So, we resorted to protests.”

Witness 13 had been a schoolteacher, originally from Herat. She too got involved in the protests but went into hiding after seeing other women arrested and tortured. In 2023, she was arrested, along with her two daughters: “I was tortured in their dreaded torture chambers in the worst ways. Due to their savage beating, my brain was damaged and my neck was severely injured; my ears bled for a full month.” She was eventually released after mediation by village elders, but said the experience left her whole family traumatised and forced them into exile: “[It was] the fear and dread that my children might be tortured that forced us to leave our homeland, my mother. I didn’t begin protesting in order to leave it.”

Several witnesses spoke of abuse at the hands of security forces. A woman, who is ethnic Hazara, described being sexually harassed by the notorious religious police from the Prevention of Vice and Promotion of Virtue Ministry, saying they had joked that it was halal – Islamically permitted – because she was Hazara. Witness 3 told of her attempt to seek protection from her violent husband, whom she had been married to at the age of ten. She said her husband’s violence “intensified with the arrival of the Taliban.” With nowhere else to turn to, she sought help from the Taliban:

When I took my petition to the Taliban, they tore it to pieces. They dragged me out of the police station; they beat me and told me that I was “a bad woman. … He is your husband. He is your owner. He has the right to beat you. You’re a bad woman. A woman who goes to the authorities to complain – we should put a bullet in her head and get rid of her. You are a bad woman” 

Eventually, she ran away but was quickly arrested and returned to her husband. She ran away for a second time and this time, found some women protestors in Kabul to stay with. But then, the house was raided:

They beat all the girls and took our phones. They said, “You’re raising your voices against Islam,” but we were only asking for our rights: the right to work, the right to education, the right not to be forced into a marriage, and not to have our children taken from us. What crime had we committed that the Taliban tortured us and beat us? … The moment the Taliban attacked us, I thought it was the last day of my life. They said, “You are women. Women are the second sex. What we are doing to you is correct; it is stated in Islam.” They arrested all the girls and beat us. Some girls fainted and fell on the ground. The Taliban showed no mercy. We asked them to let us take a girl to the doctor, they said, “No, you are women. Women are deceitful.” They beat us, tortured us and insulted us.

Denial of education

The testimony and evidence presented were broken down by the prosecutors into several strands of the crime of gender persecution, as well as other violations of international human rights law, including the denial of education. Multiple witnesses spoke of this as a crushing loss

Witness 18 said the ban had erased “our hope, plans, and the decisions we‘d made for our future.” She had tried to register for a post-graduate degree but was told: “Who gave women so many rights? You had seven or eight years of education, that’s enough for you, you have already learned too much.”

Witness 13, a former teacher, recounted her struggle to console girls whom she said would ask her: “What is our sin? What should we do? What crime have we committed besides pursuing an education?’ I’d encourage them to remain steadfast and resilient, but I’d cry to myself.” Several women recounted bruising interactions with Emirate-appointed officials at universities, including Witness 7. She tried to get her education certificate from the university where she’d studied, but said she was told: “You women committed prostitution for twenty years and now you want to continue those things? The Islamic Emirate has arrived.”

Denial of employment

For some witnesses, the loss of educational opportunities was tied to the loss of employment. Witness 14 said that taken together, these restrictions stripped women of their “autonomy and even dignity.” The impact of job losses was described in terms of the damage to mental health, as well as pushing families into poverty, particularly those where women were the primary breadwinners. Witness 19 was a journalist, who, like most women journalists, was forced out of her job. She and other journalists tried to hold a press conference to draw attention to the job losses, but were barred from doing so and detained.

They were holding their weapons, standing above us as if we were dangerous criminals – murderers – waiting to be executed. It was terrifying. One of them sat facing us, speaking in a vulgar and aggressive tone. He said, “We’ve come to make the country Islamic, to bring back the ways of Islam, and to make people true Muslims. But you’re making us look terrible to the world. You’re giving us a bad name.” 

She said one of the Talibs shouted profanities and said: “How dare you, a woman, come here among non-mahrams and stand in front of me and speak?”

After she was released, she decided to go into hiding for a few days, but two days later, the Taliban raided her house:

They asked my husband, “Where is your wife?” My husband said, “I don’t know, she left yesterday, but she hasn’t come back home yet.” They told him: “What kind of man are you — letting your wife leave the house without a mahram, and you sit here without a care in the world, not even knowing where she is?” Then they beat him. They beat him right there in front of my children. My youngest, who was seven at the time, was terrified and screaming. My eldest tried to stop them – he shouted for them to stop beating his father — and they beat him too. 

The family later managed to get over the border, but even from their place of relative safety, the trauma of those experiences endures:

The mental state of our whole family is, unfortunately, not very good. From my husband and me to my youngest son – we’ve all been deeply affected. Since the day the Taliban beat his father, my youngest has been in shock. Even after all these years, he still wets the bed at night. He’s older now, but he must still wear diapers. I have nightmares. At the slightest sound, I wake up with a start … thinking they’ve come back for us.

Denial of healthcare

Access to health services was another focus of the prosecutors’ case, as witnesses described the combined effects of Emirate policies on women’s ability to access even basic medical treatment. Time and again, witnesses spoke of not being able to receive care due to the restrictions on women’s movements, the constraints on the ability of women health workers to work, the segregation which prevents male doctors from treating female patients and the acute shortages of female doctors and nurses. From Kandahar, Witness 9 said: “There are no female dentists at all in the province and probably just one or two female doctors in the entire city. They have completely banned male doctors from treating female patients. Female patients are now even banned from seeing female doctors.” The situation, she said, was like going back in time, with women dying “because of very simple illnesses,” particularly now that women were having to give birth at home, “like a century ago.”

Women with disabilities 

Some of the witnesses described difficulties and discrimination on multiple fronts, not least women with disabilities. Witness six, originally from Khost, lost the use of her legs in a suicide bombing in 2013 and has used a wheelchair or walker ever since. She described an encounter with the Vice and Virtue police when she was trying to get to her doctor’s office. Even though she was wearing a long dress and hijab, she was told her clothes were “inappropriate.”

I explained to them that I was disabled and used a walker to move. I told them that if I wore longer or heavier clothing, as they demanded, it would get caught under my walker or wheelchair and cause me to fall and injure myself. But they refused to listen. They said, “No matter what your condition is, you must wear the clothing we prescribe. If we see you again dressed like this, we’ll take you to the police station.” I was terrified. With tears in my eyes, I returned home.

She said that since the incident, she has stopped going out, “and every day I feel the walls closing in on me.” She also described the frustration of being unable to leave the house by herself:

Even when I need to go somewhere, I cannot find a mahram to accompany me, as required by Taliban rules. This dependency is deeply painful. The emotional wound of being treated as helpless is worse than my physical disability. There is no cure for that pain.

An Islamic scholar’s challenge to the Emirate

Towards the end of the hearings, the prosecutors invited evidence from an Indonesian Islamic scholar, Dr Nur Rofiah, who teaches at the University of Quranic Sciences in Jakarta, Indonesia and was representing the Congress of Indonesian Women Ulema. Rofiah condemned the Taliban’s “misusing of the Islamic sharia against women,” stating that “Islam views men and women as equal human beings,” with the “right to seek knowledge and to access economic resources, healthcare services and other essential aspects of life.”[3] She also challenged the Taliban’s notion that women are the source of fitna (temptation to sin): “Is it women or the mindsets about women as sexual objects that is the source of fitna?”

The Emirate’s (non-) response 

During the course of the hearings, the judges repeatedly invited any representative of the Taliban to present their defence. Prior to the hearings, a letter was sent to the IEA’s Foreign Ministry, requesting their participation and offering assistance. No response was ever received. The Emirate’s silence reflects its longstanding stance of rejecting international scrutiny and dismissing attempts to hold its leaders accountable. When the International Criminal Court issued arrest warrants for gender persecution for the Emirate’s Amir and Chief Justice, for example, deputy spokesman Hamdullah Fitrat, defended their record as upholding “the religious and national values of the Afghan people within the framework of Islamic Sharia.” The Emirate, he wrote, “does not recognize any legal obligation under the Rome Statute and deems the previous administration’s accession to this statute to be devoid of legal validity”  (statement issued on X on 19 February 2025). The question of whether the Emirate can withdraw Afghanistan from the Rome Statute is a subject of debate, given that it is still recognised by the member states of the Rome Statute or the United Nations (as argued here in the European Journal of International Law).

The judgement 

At the close of the hearings, the judges gave a preliminary verdict. One, Dr Ghizaal Haress – an Afghan constitutional lawyer and former Ombudsperson of the Republic – sent a powerful message to Afghan women: “The panel of judges assure the women of Afghanistan that they have been heard.”

The judges spent two months considering the indictment, testimony and other evidence they had been given. They came together in The Hague on December 11 to deliver their verdict. It upheld everything the prosecutors had asked for and added some pointed recommendations.

First, the judges found that the “Taliban’s sustained and deliberate campaign of gender persecution, carried out through edicts, institutional decrees, and systematic violations, constitutes a direct and egregious violation of international criminal law.”

While recognising that gender apartheid is not yet recognised in international law, the judges basically accepted the prosecutors’ argument in its favour, saying: “The situation in Afghanistan meets the constitutive elements of an apartheid-like system, an institutionalized regime of segregation, exclusion, and domination,” and recommended that the UN and member states should support its codification. The judges also confirmed that there had been multiple violations of international human rights law:

[T]he Taliban have intentionally, and severely deprived women and girls of fundamental rights, including the right to life, the right not to be subjected to torture or to cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment, the right to personal liberty and security, the right not to be subjected to arbitrary detention, the right to education, the right to work, the right to health, freedom of expression, freedom of movement, freedom of association, the right to bodily autonomy, and the civil and political rights of participation. 

The judges described the impacts of gender persecution in terms of physical harm done to women and the psychosocial ill-effects on women, girls and men, as well as on the social fabric of Afghanistan. The judges observed that, while many witnesses were able to speak relatively freely about some forms of physical abuse, any “reference to rape and sexual violence in custody is subtle,” though they did draw attention to a witness who said: “Even our colleagues and friends in Taliban prisons were raped, oppressed and tortured.”

The judges were clear about the Taliban’s criminal responsibility, both individually and as a group. Although the judgment did not ascribe specific crimes to any of the ten individuals named by the prosecutors, it said:

Statements from Taliban leaders explicitly justify their decrees and bans through an ideological framework that prioritizes male dominance and defines women as subordinate under a restrictive interpretation of Sharia. …The system is not the result of isolated or spontaneous acts but rather a State-organized and systematic policy designed to exclude women and girls from all aspects of public life, restrict their freedoms, and subordinate them to male authority. 

Alongside their legal findings, the judges also warned about the danger of normalising the Taliban administration, which had been a common refrain of witnesses. Citing Russian recognition in July 2025 and the “dangerous” trend for increased diplomatic presence in Afghanistan and the appointment of Taliban officials abroad, the judges said:

First, the immediate political impact is that it will embolden the Taliban while simultaneously diminishing international leverage. … Second, the normative and human rights impact of normalization is profound. It risks undermining the universality of women’s rights by signalling that women’s freedoms can once again be sacrificed for political convenience. Third, the effect on global norms and precedents is deeply troubling. It erodes the longstanding taboos against normalizing regimes of institutionalized oppression. … Finally, normalization will severely harm Afghan women and girls. … [it] erodes hope, weakens advocacy, and ultimately reinforces the Taliban’s control over society, prolonging their repressive rule. 

They made a series of recommendations, starting with a call to the Taliban to reverse a host of repressive policies. They also urged the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation, Muslim countries and Islamic institutions and scholars to issue fatwas and legal opinions “publicly rejecting the regime’s restrictions on women as having no basis in Sharia and violating established Islamic principles of justice, dignity, and equality.” On the subject of normalisation, they were concrete, calling on governments to “suspend diplomatic relations and revoke accreditation of Taliban-appointed diplomats” until there is verifiable and sustained progress. They also criticised the efforts of several European states to deport Afghans, including some women (DutchNews).

Hope and validation: Reactions to the tribunal

The tribunal offered a rare occasion for Afghan women to be centre stage, Witness 1 told AAN in The Hague:

This tribunal is important to me both as an ordinary woman and as a woman who was imprisoned in a land where a woman’s voice, her identity, her honour and her human dignity are being trampled on. … Even if the tribunal doesn’t have an immediate impact – today or tomorrow – the very fact that I can formally tell my story means that I’m taking back my honour and the human dignity that were crushed under the Taliban’s feet and in their prisons.

Many of the organisers, prosecutors and witnesses said they had been contacted by friends and family inside Afghanistan to say how important it was to see their experiences reflected at the hearings. Witness 2 told AAN that women inside Afghanistan had thanked her for being their voice at the tribunal:

Many people in Afghanistan saw the People’s Tribunal on TV, on YouTube, in the media, especially women, they secretly watched it, which was so important because they don’t have any way to be seen or heard, they can’t go to the streets and they can’t demonstrate or protest. This gives them hope. 

The UN Special Rapporteur for the situation of human rights in Afghanistan, Richard Bennett, who was present in both Madrid and The Hague, described the verdict as a milestone that represented a “powerful vindication for victims and survivors.” Bennett told AAN that, irrespective of any other impacts, the testimonies were a form of transitional justice:

The official record of a hearing where witnesses gave their testimonies will stand as an important part of the story of Afghanistan, the records of Afghanistan. Truth-seeking and truth-telling is a very important tool, and actually a right, in any kind of transitional justice process. It does not replace judicial accountability, but it complements it and has been found to be a very important affirmation in other countries as well to victims of human rights violations.

Several prominent international experts delivered messages of support at the closing of the session, in person or by video, including Dr Mustapha Sheikh, a professor of Islamic Studies at Leeds University in England, who called on Islamic scholars to speak up:

Afghan women are being subjected to discrimination, segregation, dehumanisation and systemic erasure. Because this cruelty is being justified through religious language, scholars of Islam have a heightened obligation to correct the misuse of Islamic law and to name this oppression for what it is.

The road ahead

The four NGOs that organised the tribunal issued a statement at the end of proceedings, concluding: “Afghan women have spoken. The judges have spoken. The law has spoken. Now the world must respond.”

With this verdict, the organisers and other activists will turn their attention to advocacy and more campaigning to build wider public support. Although the tribunal has no legal authority, its judgment can still have practical impacts. The findings could be helpful to prosecutors, whether at the ICC in their ongoing investigation, or national prosecutors pursuing investigations under universal jurisdiction in years to come. One of the prosecutors, Azada Raz Mohammad, said she hoped the tribunal’s evidence would serve as an important archive for prosecutors, as well as for the new UN Independent Investigative Mechanism for Afghanistan, which will support the work of prosecutors (for more on this mechanism, see this AAN report).

The findings could also influence the decisions of states as they debate their engagement policy with the IEA – the judges specifically reminded states of their duty to act under international law in the face of some of the most egregious crimes. For Director of DROPS, Mariam Safi, follow-up with diplomats will be key, particularly given what she described as her “utter frustration” at the “normalisation” of the Taliban. She listed the United States “speaking to the Taliban about reopening its embassies in Kabul,” and in the week the hearings took place, India inviting the Taliban foreign minister to visit, “Germany allowing Taliban authorities to enter the country in order to work in the consulates,” and regional countries “that have already accepted the credentials of the Taliban.”

Organisers hope that hearing the opinions of Islamic scholars in both the tribunal’s hearings and the verdict session of the tribunal will strengthen their advocacy with Muslim-majority states and the Organisation of Islamic Cooperation. This is not straightforward: Akbar said that some efforts had been made to hold the tribunal in Islamic countries, which “did not receive a positive signal,” though she notes they had limited time. Similarly, it was hard to find male Hanafi scholars to publicly support or participate in the hearings, though Mustapha Sheikh told AAN that this should not be understood “simply as indifference or tacit approval of the Taliban’s policies.” Rather, Sheikh said, “In many Muslim contexts shaped by colonial rule and its aftermath, political engagement by religious scholars has been securitised” so that organised religious activities of Muslims are perceived as a ‘threat’. As a result, Muslim scholars have internalised a form of defensive quietism, in which public engagement on issues framed as ‘political’ (human rights, gender justice, international law) is perceived as “endangering institutional survival, legal status or personal safety.”

There are precedents of Islamic scholars condemning aspects of the Emirate’s regime, however, which offer potential building blocks for activists wanting to take the findings of the tribunal forwards.[4]

Lessons from other People’s Tribunals

People’s tribunals were born of frustration in earlier times, with the then diplomatic status quo. The first was the International War Crimes Tribunal in 1966, better known as the Russell Tribunal, which examined US aggression and war crimes in Vietnam.[5]These tribunals differ in scope and context, but all were created to respond to grave abuses when formal institutions were unable or unwilling to act. The Permanent People’s Tribunal was set up in the 1970s and has now held over fifty sessions, including two previous sessions on Afghanistan in 1981 and 1982 to look at Soviet aggression and war crimes.[6]

One of the inspirations for the Afghan People’s Tribunal was the Aban Tribunal, a tribunal set up by Iranian activists in 2021 to investigate the Iranian state’s violent response to protestors in 2019, which was carried out with impunity and under a media blackout.[7] The main organiser, Shadi Sadr, told AAN that tribunals offer a powerful alternative at a time when international law and judicial mechanisms are in crisis:

Many atrocities are happening as we speak around the world, but the international justice system would be only capable of dealing with a very few of them and even [when] the international justice mechanisms are available, most of the time they are incapable of providing real justice and remedy to the victims. When it comes to women, the situation is even worse. 

Women’s tribunals have drawn attention to the inequities of formal justice institutions, including the International Tribunal on Japan’s Military Sexual Slavery, which pushed the Japanese state towards recognising and apologising for the use of rape and sexual slavery by Japan’s Imperial Army in the 1930s and 40s.[8] The 2015 Women’s Court in Sarajevo, Bosnia-Herzegovina, also gave voice to the experiences of women who had been raped and sexually abused during the war in the former Yugoslavia in the 1990s.[9]

The beginning of accountability 

The tribunal’s verdict was delivered in The Hague, symbolically important as the home of the International Criminal Court. While the court has already issued arrest warrants for gender persecution for Amir Hibatullah and Chief Justice Abdul Hakim Haqqani, the reclusive leaders are not likely to travel anywhere where they might be arrested, so their arrests seem a long way off. The ICC prosecutor could have requested additional arrest warrants for other Taliban leaders from the court, but as of November 2025, it had changed its policies so that the default approach will be to issue arrest warrants confidentially, so as not to deter arrest opportunities (MSN). The tribunal judges pointed out that there are also no current prosecutions under universal jurisdiction and encouraged states to make greater use of their ability – and duty – to investigate. All of this makes criminal accountability seem a rather distant prospect.

In this context, the tribunal’s decisive verdict, in The Hague, does have more than symbolic power. In helping establish a public record of the crimes perpetrated by the Taliban, it could influence diplomatic decisions and raise the cost of normalising relations with the Taliban, disrupting what Shaharzad Akbar described in her opening statement as “the crime of silence.” This tribunal, she said, puts victims and survivors at the heart of the process and “makes visible the invisible.” Akbar says that the message they want to send to the Taliban is that the world is standing with Afghan women, but that the normalisation trend makes it “hard to send that message now.”

If the volume of Afghan media coverage is any indication – organisers cited coverage by more than 20 Afghan outlets, including 18 hours of live broadcasting – the tribunal was a noteworthy event. If the Emirate pays any attention to the tribunal, it will no doubt be to dismiss it. For the organisers, however, the tribunal’s most enduring legacy is in the archive of testimony, the indictment and the judges’ verdict – material that can be used as tools for advocacy, public engagement and, potentially, future prosecutions. In his remarks after the verdict, Bennett said that too often victims are marginalised by justice mechanisms, whereas this tribunal “should serve as a model for future human rights efforts.”

For the women who testified, the hope is that being heard — on record, at the tribunal, and before the world — is not an end in itself, but the beginning of accountability. It may be many years before a criminal court hears their testimony, but as Witness 1 said: “I’m waiting for the day that I see the Taliban in front of a judge and the Taliban in prison.”

Edited by Roxanna Shapour and Kate Clark

References

References
1 The Panel of Judges consisted of: Rashida Manjoo (South Africa), who acted as president of the panel; Elisenda Calvet-Martínez (Spain); Mai El-Sadany (Egypt/United States); Marina Forti (Italy); Araceli García del Soto (Spain); Ghizaal Haress (Afghanistan); Emilio Ramírez Matos (Spain); and Kalpana Sharma (India). Their biographies are available on the People’s Tribunal website.
2 The full list of crimes in the indictment are: Crimes against humanity, particularly the crime of gender persecution under Article 7 of the Rome Statute; other inhumane acts codified in the Rome Statute; violation of Afghanistan’s binding obligation under core international human rights treaties, including the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW), the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR), the Convention Against Discrimination in Education (CADE), the Convention on the Political Rights of Women (CPRW), the Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC), the Convention on the rights of People with Disabilities (CRPD), and the Convention against Torture (CAT).
3 The full Expert Opinion On Women In Islam by Dr Nur Rofiah refers to jurisprudence on all of the points noted above, and more.
4 For example, education for girls was declared an Islamic right in the Islamabad Declaration for Girls’ Education in Muslim Communities, which was supported in January 2025 by senior muftis, scholars and Islamic bodies and councils, including the Saudi scholar, Mohammed Al-Issa, Secretary-General of the Muslim World League and President of the Association of Muslim Scholars (Amu TV).
5 For more on the Russell Tribunal, see Tom Krever, Remembering the Russell Tribunal, London Review of International Law, 2017. See also Marcos Zunin, Russell Tribunal, Oxford Public International Law, 2024.
6 A session was held in Stockholm in 1981 (PPT verdict in Italian), and in Paris in 1982 (also in Italian). A British Pathe television report on the 1982 session is viewable here.
7 For more on the Aban Tribunal and other examples, see Shadi Sadr, International Justice System v. People’s Tribunals: A Fictional Hierarchy, Opinio Juris, April 2024.
8 It is also known as the Tokyo Tribunal. A transcript of the Tokyo Tribunal judgement has been archived by the Women’s Caucus for Gender Justice. This 2020 documentary about The legacy of the Tokyo Women’s Tribunal is still accessible via the London School of Economics.
9 For more, see Andrea Oskari Rossini, Sarajevo, the Women’s Tribunal, Osservatorio Balcani e Caucaso Transeuropa, May 2015.

 

Afghan Women Spoke: The People’s Tribunal for Afghan Women listened
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Afghanistan’s Trade Via Alternate Routes Bypasses Pakistan Closures

Khaama Press
Ankit Kumar, Assistant Professor (Research) at SICSSL, specializes in modern warfare, geopolitics, and nuclear policy. He has consulted for India’s Ministry of External Affairs and Defense and contributed to leading think tanks and international publications. He is pursuing a PhD on nuclear policy ambiguity with India as a case study.

Afghanistan’s authorities have intensified efforts to diversify trade corridors, gradually reducing dependence on Pakistan following repeated and lengthy border closures that have disrupted bilateral commerce. Major crossings such as Torkham and Chaman – which previously accounted for an estimated 40 percent of Afghanistan’s official trade – experienced extended shutdowns throughout late 2024 and into 2025 amid escalating allegations related to cross-border militancy and security incidents. These closures, often lasting several weeks, have reportedly inflicted monthly losses exceeding USD 200 million on Afghan exporters of perishable fruits, vegetables, and dried nuts. Imports of fuel, wheat, and pharmaceuticals were also delayed, contributing to domestic inflation and periodic shortages. In response, Kabul has increasingly prioritised alternative routes, including India via Iran’s Chabahar Port and new air links, alongside expanded overland connections with Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, and Kazakhstan, aiming to build a more resilient, multipolar trade network less vulnerable to sudden disruptions.

The deterioration in Pakistan-Afghanistan relations since 2021 has intensified tensions. Islamabad’s concerns regarding Tehreek-e-Taliban Pakistan (TTP) activities inside Afghanistan and Kabul’s objections to Pakistan’s visa restrictions have compounded mistrust. The situation escalated in October 2025 during border clashes that prompted indefinite closures under counter-terrorism justifications. Prior to these developments, annual bilateral trade was estimated between USD 2.5 and 3 billion, with Afghanistan exporting around USD 1.5 billion in agricultural produce while importing fuel and basic commodities through Karachi and Gwadar ports. That figure is now believed to have fallen below USD 1 billion. Afghan agricultural products, such as grapes, have reportedly sold for significantly higher prices in Pakistani markets amid supply volatility, while hundreds of Afghan and Pakistani cargo trucks were left stranded near border points. Analysts suggest that although Pakistan sought to pressure Kabul regarding militant sanctuaries, the interruptions have also reduced Pakistan’s leverage as Afghan traders increasingly rely on costlier yet more predictable alternative routes.

A central component of this shift is the Chabahar International Transport and Transit Corridor, where India has maintained a long-term investment strategy. New Delhi’s USD 500 million contribution to Chabahar, operational since 2018, offers Afghanistan direct access through Iranian ports without requiring Pakistani transit. During Afghan Acting Industry Minister Nooruddin Azizi’s visit to India in November 2025, the sides discussed streamlined visas, lower air-freight tariffs, and expanded cargo flights from Delhi, Amritsar, and Mumbai to Kabul, with the objective of raising bilateral trade toward USD 1 billion. Chabahar has already facilitated the delivery of 1.5 million tonnes of Indian wheat and pulses since 2022. More recently, Afghan pomegranates and raisins have reached Indian markets within days rather than weeks. Although U.S. sanctions complicate Iranian port operations, Chabahar’s reduced docking fees and quicker customs processing have reportedly increased cargo volumes by 30 percent year-on-year.

Northern trade corridors to Central Asia also present expanding opportunities. Trade with Uzbekistan was estimated at USD 1.1 billion in 2024, supported by the Hairatan rail terminal and the Termez bridge, with 2025 targets approaching USD 2 billion across commodities including Uzbek flour, machinery, and Afghan minerals. Turkmenistan’s Torghundi crossing has seen fuel and construction material volumes rise, while Kazakhstan has proposed a USD 3 billion regional transport roadmap focused on road upgrades and dry ports. Afghanistan’s participation in the Ashgabat Agreement since 2018 underpins multimodal rail-and-road connectivity extending toward the Caspian region and aligning with segments of China’s Belt and Road Initiative through the Wakhan Corridor. Taliban officials, including Deputy Prime Minister Mullah Abdul Ghani Baradar, have encouraged Afghan traders to prioritise alternative routes, describing Pakistan’s measures as economically restrictive. Supporters of diversification argue that Afghanistan could gain a more central role as a regional transit hub, including potential energy import and export projects such as CASA-1000.

The diversification approach, however, faces significant constraints. Infrastructure limitations – including inadequate road quality, insufficient cold-chain storage, and limited rail connectivity – raise transportation costs by an estimated 20 to 40 percent for time-sensitive exports. Security risks persist on northern routes, while fluctuating Iranian transit regulations and tariffs in Central Asia add additional challenges. Afghanistan’s projected economic growth of around 2.5 percent in 2025 remains closely tied to imports, and customs revenues have reportedly fallen by roughly 25 percent due to border disruptions. Humanitarian concerns persist regarding wheat imports, particularly during drought periods. Nevertheless, analysts argue that forced diversification may create opportunities in value-added processing of Afghan agricultural products, expanded mineral exports to Asian markets, and joint logistics ventures that could gradually narrow the country’s approximately USD 6 billion trade deficit.

These evolving trade patterns also carry broader geopolitical implications. Pakistan risks strategic isolation as Afghanistan deepens economic cooperation with India and Central Asian states, while emerging transit alternatives potentially dilute the influence of the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC). For Afghanistan, long-term success will depend on sustained infrastructure investment and diplomatic engagement, including efforts to secure sanctions relief for Iranian-linked ports. If diversification strategies continue and logistical barriers are addressed, Afghan officials estimate that non-Pakistani trade could rise to USD 10 billion by 2027. While the current shift has been shaped by prolonged border tensions, policymakers emphasise that a broader network of trade partners may offer Afghanistan greater economic resilience and stability in the years ahead.

Disclaimer: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of Khaama Press.

Afghanistan’s Trade Via Alternate Routes Bypasses Pakistan Closures
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Ali Faqirzada is an Afghan refugee. He deserves to stay in America

Thu 4 Dec 2025 10.30 EST

On 14 October, Ali Faqirzada – an Afghan refugee, a resident of New Paltz, New York, and a computer science student at Bard College – arrived for an interview at a federal immigration office on Long Island. He was applying for political asylum, a designation for which he was – and remains – a perfect candidate.

In his native country, Faqirzada had assisted the American government and Nato with projects designed to improve the lives of Afghan women and help them get an education. But after the US withdrawal from Afghanistan in 2021, the ministry where he, his mother and sister had worked was bombed by the Taliban, and one of its employees was murdered.

Understandably concerned that they would be tortured and killed like so many Afghans targeted by the Taliban for their cooperation with humanitarian agencies, the Faqirzadas made their way to Mexico, and from there to the US, where they immediately applied for refugee status. Six family members have already been granted asylum after having successfully made the case that repatriation to their Taliban-controlled homeland would probably mean a death sentence.ad

When Ali Faqirzada went for his 14 October interview, it seemed probable that his petition would also be approved. According to Malia Dumont, a military veteran formerly deployed in Afghanistan and now chief of staff and vice-president for strategy and policy at Bard, Ali is a brilliant, generous, community-minded student who has worked in New York state as a hospital security guard, a position of great trust and responsibility.

In a more reasonable, more compassionate country, the immigration official would have walked around the table, shaken Faqirzada’s hand, and thanked him for how much he has done on behalf of his people and our own. In a more recognizably American country, the interviewer would have congratulated Ali on how obviously he is thriving in his adopted land and on the good chance that he will go on to make valuable contributions to our society.

But that is not what happened. That is not how the story went in Donald Trump and Stephen Miller’s America. Immediately following his interview, during which he convinced the authorities that his claim of “credible fear” was justified, Faqirzada was arrested by ICE agents and sent to the Delaney Hall detention facility in Newark, New Jersey, a for-profit prison operated by the GEO Group. He has been there ever since, in a cell with 12 other men, where his access to books, water, and halal food has been severely restricted. According to visitors, he has devoted his energies to maintaining the morale and the welfare of his fellow inmates.

The merits of Ali’s case and the sheer absurdity of the suggestion that the genial, well-liked college student could pose any sort of terrorist threat has prompted an outpouring of popular support.

Among his advocates are Leon Botstein, president of Bard College and himself a refugee from the Nazis, who has stated that wisest course in such situations is to be as vocal – to make as much noise – as possible. Others who have spoken out on Faqirzada’s behalf include the New York governor, Kathy Hochul, Congressman Pat Ryan, a Democrat of New York, the communities of New Paltz and Stone Ridge, New York, and the Episcopal bishop Matthew Heyd, who led a vigil in November outside Delaney Hall.

Their efforts to free Faqirzada have been complicated by a 29 November government ruling that has paused the final approval of all asylum applications. It’s the newest and most drastic addition to a series of recent measures – including the temporary cessation of the US Refugee Admissions Program on 20 January – that have made the process of asylum-seeking steadily more challenging. In addition, there is now a pause on new immigration from Afghanistan and on the issuing of green cards to Afghans already residing in the United States. Decisions on the granting of asylum are made by the Department of Homeland Security and not the judiciary, thus making it easier for the Trump administration to drastically curtail the flow of refugees.

The sweeping new changes targeting Afghans were enacted in the aftermath of the tragic Washington DC shooting of two national guard soldiers, one fatally, by an Afghan national who had worked with the CIA and whose application for asylum had been thoroughly vetted and approved.

Common sense – a trait that the Republican party has claimed as an essential aspect of their political agenda – suggests that a genial, kind-hearted, highly motivated computer science student and hospital security guard should not be held accountable for someone else’s crime. Nor should the entire Afghan community, many members of which have fled great danger at home, be punished for the actions of one man and made to worry about whatever safety and stability they have managed to find in our country. There is great confusion, uncertainty and a dispiriting lack of clarity about what precisely these new measures mean and how to proceed from here.

Many questions remain about Ali Faqirzada’s detention. How long will he continue to be held prisoner at Delaney Hall? How will the new rulings affect his chances of being granted the protections he clearly deserves? But perhaps the most important questions are the ones that we have been asking ourselves since January 2025 and that we will likely ask ourselves for years to come. How did we let this happen – and what can we do about it now?

  • Francine Prose is a former president of PEN American Center and a member of the American Academy of Arts and Letters and the American Academy of Arts and Sciences.

Ali Faqirzada is an Afghan refugee. He deserves to stay in America
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Report: 20% of all US aid to Afghanistan was ‘wasted’

Responsible Statecraft
The Special Inspector General for Afghanistan Reconstruction issued a scathing final analysis

The United States wasted up to $29 billion dollars during its two-decade long effort to transform Afghanistan into a stable and democratic state, according to a major new report from the Special Inspector General for Afghanistan Reconstruction (SIGAR).

The wasted funds account for roughly a fifth of the $148 billion that the U.S. spent on reconstructing Afghanistan — a sum greater than what Washington spent to rebuild Europe after World War II, in inflation-adjusted terms. Among the most wasteful projects were a $7.2 billion effort to eliminate opium production in the country as well as a $4.7 billion program that tried and failed to build local state capacity.

The report marks the final update from SIGAR, which will officially close up shop early next year. Over its 17 years of existence, the office used its uniquely focused mandate to ferret out cases of waste and fraud while making recommendations about how to avoid further abuses. According to the report, its efforts led to 171 criminal convictions while saving taxpayers as much as $2.5 billion.

SIGAR was among the most influential critics of America’s nation-building efforts abroad. Its work revealed not just individual instances of waste but also the more fundamental problems that plagued Washington’s reconstruction efforts. “Over two decades, the United States invested billions of dollars and incurred thousands of casualties in a mission that promised to bring stability and democracy to Afghanistan, yet ultimately delivered neither,” the final report says. “The rapid collapse of the Afghan government in August 2021 laid bare the fragility that had been concealed by years of confident assertions of progress.”

The office pointed out “contradictions” in the U.S. approach in Afghanistan, arguing that “the relentless pursuit of reconstruction resulted in perpetual Afghan government dependency, fueled corruption, and in some cases strengthened the very insurgency it sought to undermine.”

It is unclear whether Washington has fully grappled with the critiques put forward by SIGAR over the past 17 years. Congress chose not to create a special inspector general for Ukraine aid, for example, opting instead to coordinate oversight through the office of the Pentagon’s inspector general.

Former SIGAR John Sopko argued that this approach would be insufficient for properly tracking the $187 billion that the U.S. has given Ukraine. “Just look at the amount of money we’re spending,” Sopko told RS in 2023. “When you pour that much money in, even if it’s the most noble cause in the world, you can’t help but waste a lot.”

Report: 20% of all US aid to Afghanistan was ‘wasted’
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Who Dares, Kills? Alleged war crimes and cover-ups by Britain’s special forces

British special forces are being investigated for war crimes allegedly committed between 2010 and 2013 in Afghanistan. A public inquiry is looking into the deaths of Afghans who were killed in suspicious circumstances, mostly involving detention operations that showed hallmarks of summary executions. The killings came to light because of whistle-blowers inside the military, combined with the tenacity of victims and investigative journalists. The scale of the alleged crimes is shocking – lawyers say there were more than 80 suspicious deaths in the time period of the inquiry – but for the families involved, the end may be years away, or may never come. In this themed report, Rachel Reid explores what is known about the killings and the failures of accountability, which resonate darkly with other incidents and with the behaviour of the ‘elite forces’ of other nations. The inquiry and the reporting around it raise questions about the true numbers of victims and the dangers of a culture of exceptionalism among special forces, which morphs easily into one of impunity. 

You can preview the report online and download it by clicking here or the download button below

The SAS occupy a special place in British culture, illustrated by the rule-bending bravado of their motto, “Who Dares Wins.” Yet, in recent years, this reputation has been tarnished by growing accusations of not just rule-bending but potential war crimes, including the suspicious deaths of detainees, mostly during night raids, primarily in Helmand province between 2010 and 2013. Lawyers representing victims’ families say that more than 80 were killed, including children.

The UK military police did try to investigate a number of the killings, but they met resistance from special forces and produced no real accountability for victims’ families. The victims’ lawyers forced a judicial review, which forced the Ministry of Defence to release incriminating documentation, which revealed deep concerns about the incidents inside the military. Investigative reporting by the BBC and others rang raised yet more suspicious deaths and internal military concerns. One former SAS member told the BBC that on some operations, “the troop would go into guest house type buildings and kill everyone there. … It’s not justified, killing people in their sleep.”

According to the laws of armed conflict, detainees cannot be killed, unless in self-defence. To give the appearance of acting within the law, special forces appear to have concocted stories of firefights and even planted weapons on victims. This casual disregard for Afghan lives and for the law is all the more disturbing given what has been learned over the years – including through AAN investigations – about the patchy intelligence that special forces relied upon, which suggests that at least some – or perhaps many of the detainees being killed were not Taliban, but civilians.

This report outlines the patterns of the suspicious deaths, the alleged cover-ups and the failed investigations. It will consider the factors that may have contributed to this bloody period, including wider abuses by special forces, with similar patterns by Australian special forces and reports of extrajudicial killings by United States and Afghan special forces. It will look at the somewhat limited hopes for justice for victims emanating from the public inquiry and beyond.

Edited by Kate Clark and Roxanna Shapour 

You can preview the report online and download it by clicking here or the download button below

Who Dares, Kills? Alleged war crimes and cover-ups by Britain’s special forces
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Claimed by Gunfire: How a single shot stole an Afghan girl’s future

In parts of southeastern Afghanistan, a boy seeking to force a girl into marriage may fire gunshots outside her home to claim her publicly as his future wife, often after the girl’s family has refused his proposal. The shots are a signal that the girl now belongs to him – regardless of her wishes or her family’s decision. Once a girl has been claimed in this way, no one else dares to marry her, fearing retaliation. It is rare, though not unheard of, for families to give their daughter in marriage to the boy. In those cases – usually involving community mediation and large payments – the relationship between the families never truly heals and the girl’s family will forever resent their new son-in-law. Most girls who fall victim to this coercive practice remain unmarried for the rest of their lives, living in their father’s home, trapped by someone else’s reckless actions. In this instalment of The Daily Hustle, Hamid Pakteen hears from 47-year-old Bibi Salima about how her cousin’s actions thirty years ago altered her life and shattered her dreams. 

A Kabul street mural by the Afghan artist collective ArtLords reads: “A true Muslim is one whose words and actions do no harm to others (Hadith Sharif). Violence against women goes against the teachings of Islam.” Photo: ArtLords, 2017

 

When I was 17 years old, my cousin – my mother’s nephew – asked for my hand in marriage, but my family refused. My mother said, “She’s still young. She hasn’t reached the legal age yet.”

We are three sisters and I’m the youngest. At the time, my eldest sister was already married and my other sister, who is a couple of years older than me, hadn’t married yet. My mother wanted her to marry first, and according to our customs, that made sense. But my cousin wasn’t having it. He kept asking my mother to let him marry me, every chance he got.

One day, my eldest brother confronted him outside our house. What was supposed to be a quiet chat between two cousins grew into a heated argument when my cousin refused to stop asking for my hand. He told my brother he was determined to marry me, either with the family’s approval or by force. When my brother came inside, he was furious – visibly shaken and red in the face. He told my mother that we should no longer have any relations with her brother’s family. “We shouldn’t go to their house and they should never again come to ours,” he shouted.

The gunshots that changed everything 

From that day on, resentment grew between the two families until one afternoon, my cousin came to our house with a gun. He stood on the street outside our front door and fired shots into the air. He called out my name and then called out to my brother, “Come and save your sister from me now, if you dare.”

That day, none of the men in our family were at home. My mother ran outside to try to calm him down. She begged him not to destroy both families with his actions, but he ignored her pleas. He kept shouting, telling her that she was ruining his life and then he fled.

When my brothers came home and heard about what my cousin had done, they were furious. One of my brothers grabbed the household gun and stormed out of the house. He said he was going to my uncle’s house, a half-hour’s walk from our village, to kill my cousin. But my cousin was nowhere to be found.

My uncle, devastated by what his son had done, rushed to our house. He begged my mother to stop my brother. “Control your son so that he doesn’t do anything that we will all regret,” he pleaded. He said that his son had run away from home and gave his word that he would punish him severely if he found him. He said that he could never forgive his son for doing such a shameful thing, especially to his niece, and then running away like a coward. He apologised over and over again. I think he was truly ashamed and heartbroken. But my brothers were incensed. They said terrible things to my uncle and pushed him out of our home.

Disgrace, repentance and a broken family 

My father was a respected religious scholar, but he wasn’t at home. He was in Kabul, where he was the imam of a mosque. He came back home as soon as he found out – angry and determined to seek satisfaction. He talked it over with my brothers and together they filed a complaint at the district centre. At that time, during the mujahedin regime, there was no official government to speak of, but because everyone respected my father, they took the matter seriously and started an investigation.

The authorities summoned my uncle’s family and demanded that they hand over my cousin. But, knowing what was in store for him, he’d fled to Pakistan, cutting all ties with his family. My uncle, who was well-respected in the community, publicly apologised to my parents and even said, “I’ve disowned him. He’s no longer my son.” He and his sons were detained, but after a few days, when it became obvious they had no idea of my cousin’s whereabouts, they were released.

Afterwards, my uncle came to our house along with his family and several tribal elders to ask for forgiveness according to our custom of nanawatai (sanctuary), which obliges victims to forgive a transgressor who comes to repent. Although my father was still angry, he had no choice but to accept their apology. But he said there would be no contact between the two families ever again. From that day on, our families became strangers. My uncle and his family never visited us again and we never visited them. On rare occasions, my uncle would quietly visit my mother, without my father or brother’s knowledge. But when he passed away, my mother didn’t go to his funeral.

The woman that I never became 

I often think about how a single moment – a single rash act, a single word spoken in anger or a single shot fired to the sky – can alter someone’s life forever. I sometimes look back at my 17-year-old self – a carefree, innocent girl, unaware of the gathering clouds and the storm that was about to destroy her future.

Every girl has dreams of getting married and having a family. And I was no different. I wanted a big wedding, as is our custom, lasting several days and turning the entire village into a festival. I imagined a kind husband who would take me on visits to Kabul and maybe even to Pakistan and Iran. But that life wasn’t meant to be.

I was too young then to understand what all this would mean for my future. I thought that in time, the storm would pass and the families would go back to how things had always been before the shots were fired. But my family knew that things could never be the same and that my life would be one of dependence, isolation and sorrow. Looking back, there were clues in the way people looked at me, in their hushed voices, and in the silence when I walked into a room. But at the time, I was too young and inexperienced to recognise them.

I still didn’t think much about it when my older sister got married. After all, according to our customs, it was her turn and I thought that I’d be next. But reality hit hard as I watched one girl after another in the family get married, but my turn never came and I realised that it never would. At wedding parties, girls would whisper hurtful things: “It’s your turn now, but you can’t marry. You will always stay in your father’s home.” Their words cut into my heart like a knife.

My mother tried to comfort me. She was the keeper of all my secrets and the source of my strength. But when I was alone with my thoughts, the sense of gloom and hopelessness overpowered me. I felt trapped, cursed by circumstances that I had no part in. However, with each passing day, my anxiety only grew. Eventually, my family took me to a doctor. When that didn’t help, they took me to one mullah after another. They all prayed for me. A couple of them said that I had been cursed by an evil eye and gave me amulets, and one even said I had been possessed by a jinn. But there was no cure for my suffering.

After my parents died, my brothers, who had families of their own, moved into their own homes. Our family became scattered. Now, everyone’s busy with their own lives and I’m left alone. I live in my father’s house with my eldest brother and his family. Although my brother and my nieces and nephews take care of me and I lack for nothing, I still feel like a burden.

Thirty years without hope

My cousin never came back to our area again. He never visited his family because his father had sworn to kill him and warned him to stay away, but I later learned that he had sent a letter warning people that no one had the right to marry me. People remained fearful that if anyone did marry me, he’d harm them. We heard that he’s living in Pakistan and has a family of his own.

He’s living his life, but his decision to fire a gun outside our house killed my future. In an instant, all my dreams, all my hopes and aspirations, turned to dust.

It’s been nearly 30 years since the day the shots rang outside our house and ruined my life forever. After the Islamic Emirate regained power, it criminalised this despicable act. I wonder if it will make any difference; I haven’t heard of anyone being jailed for it. Whatever happens, the new law came too late for me. I’ve spent my life living through other people’s happiness, watching in the mirror as my hair turned white and wrinkles appeared on my face. These days, I pass the time lost in my own thoughts, without a sense of direction, watching the girls I grew up with – now grandmothers – tend to their own families and grandchildren.

People live on hope. My hope died a long time ago and a life without hope is a slow kind of dying. There is more than one way to kill a person. You can take a gun to a girl’s house and fire shots in the air outside her door.

Edited by Roxanna Shapour

Authors:

Hamid Pakteen

More from this author

Roxanna Shapour

More from this author

Claimed by Gunfire: How a single shot stole an Afghan girl’s future
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The Islamic Emirate and the (Other) Authoritarians: Afghanistan-Central Asian relations since 2021

Since the Taliban’s return to power, they have invested heavily in building diplomatic relationships with the five states of Central Asia — Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and Uzbekistan. Under Republic-era governments, Central Asian governments – avowedly secular in outlook since they became independent nations – frequently sounded warnings over the threat that Islamic extremism posed to their own security and to the security of the wider world. Cracking down on Islamist opposition at home has been a consistent priority for the states of Central Asia. And yet they now appear interested in drawing closer to the Emirate. They have made diplomatic visits and hosted Emirate officials in return, announced numerous regional trade deals and promoted massive regional projects to deliver energy and transportation infrastructure. As AAN guest author Letty Phillips* explores, this suggests that pragmatic economic and regional interests have trumped earlier concerns. 
You can preview the report online and download it by clicking here or the download button below

The second Emirate might be uninterested in accommodating the demands of Western powers, but it is not isolationist. In fact, establishing relationships with the five Central Asian states has become a key focus of the IEA’s foreign policy. Al-Emarah News, the official mouthpiece of the Emirate, describes this strategy as a “new and distinct era” in Afghanistan’s foreign relations, grounded in cooperation with neighbouring states.

This report examines how these interactions have developed over time and the pragmatism that now defines the relationship between the Emirate and its northern neighbours. Although none of the Central Asian states have formally recognised the Emirate, all have established practical channels for diplomacy, trade, and cooperation. Central Asian states, which were once cautious of the threat of Islamist extremism, are now opting for engagement, driven by concerns over stability, security and regional connectivity.

Drawing on open-source data and official statements, this report analyses the political, security, and economic aspects of these relationships. It reviews the expansion of cross-border trade as well as the progress – and limitations – of large infrastructure projects such as TAPI, CASA-1000 and regional railway links. It also considers illicit and informal trade networks and examines the role that customs revenues play in sustaining the Emirate.

Finally, the report explores how these regional connections contribute to the Emirate’s resilience. It finds that Afghanistan’s engagement with Central Asian states is indicative of a broader trend of cooperation among authoritarian states, in which shared interests in maintaining regime stability and ensuring non-interference outweigh ideological differences. These dynamics, the report argues, are central to understanding the future trajectory of Afghanistan’s foreign relations and internal governance under the current regime. These dynamics, the report argues, are crucial for understanding the future direction of Afghanistan’s foreign relations and its internal governance under the current regime.

Edited by Jelena Bjelica and Rachel Reid

*Letty Phillips is a researcher and analyst who worked in Afghanistan from 2021 to 2024.

You can preview the report online and download it by clicking here or the download button below

 

The Islamic Emirate and the (Other) Authoritarians: Afghanistan-Central Asian relations since 2021
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