The Taliban’s newly introduced criminal code serves not just as a legal framework but also aims to reshape Afghan society through hierarchy, coercion, and institutionalized inequality. It deviates from fundamental principles of equal citizenship, due process, and legal accountability, creating a tiered system of rights and responsibilities that reinforces gender-based discrimination, restricts freedom of expression, and permits harsh penalties, including capital punishment. In this context, the law does not function to limit power or address harm; instead, it acts as a tool of authoritarian governance that imposes suppression, normalizes surveillance, instills fear for compliance, and redefines social relations around subjugation rather than rights.

Structurally, the Taliban’s Criminal Code of Conduct comprises ten chapters and 119 articles, enforced alongside Sharia-based norms primarily derived from Hanafi jurisprudence. In practice, the system operates through a dual normative regime. When conduct is alleged to be criminal, authorities first assess whether it constitutes an offense under Sharia, regarded as divine and superior law. If the act does not fall within explicit Sharia prohibitions, adjudication shifts to taʿzīr, a domain of discretionary punishment framed as human-legislated regulation. This structure reflects a deliberate hierarchy of legal legitimacy, positioning Sharia as the ultimate normative authority while employing taʿzīr as a flexible tool for regulating a wide array of behaviors.

In terms of scope, Sharia is typically invoked concerning personal morality and a limited set of public-order offenses. Conversely, a broad spectrum of conduct that modern legal systems would generally classify as criminal—particularly behavior related to governance, social regulation, and political control—is adjudicated through taʿzīr. Under the Taliban, this discretionary domain has been effectively codified, making taʿzīr the primary mechanism for governing daily life. The penal framework thus operates through the interplay of two sources: Sharia provisions and the taʿzīr-based criminal code, supplemented by additional regulations with lesser normative authority. Within this hierarchy, the criminal code represents the highest authority among man-made laws, to which all other regulations must conform.

Importantly, this penal order is not based on equal legal status or reciprocal rights and obligations. Instead, it institutionalizes differentiated legal standing through two intersecting regulatory frameworks. The first is Sharia adjudication, which—despite claims of universality—operates on gender-differentiated assumptions that lead to systematically unequal outcomes for men and women. The second is the criminal code itself, which explicitly categorizes individuals and assigns unequal punitive consequences based on social and political position. As a result, identical actions can yield drastically different outcomes: some groups may face no punishment at all, while others endure severe and disproportionate penalties. Thus, punishment is determined not only by the offense but also by the offender’s position within the regime’s constructed hierarchy, leading to selective criminalization.

Beyond stratified punishment, the code governs society through ambiguity, intrusion, and ideological enforcement. Indeterminate offenses—such as assisting “corrupt” individuals or engaging in undefined oppositional behavior—are paired with harsh penalties, allowing for selective enforcement while maintaining an appearance of legality. The code intrudes deeply into private and social life, criminalizing everyday actions like eating during Ramadan, interacting with a non-mahram woman, or criticizing Taliban officials. Even children are not exempt: the code permits physical punishment as long as it does not result in broken bones or visible injury, effectively legalizing violence as a governing method.

The penal framework also criminalizes dissent and pluralism. Insulting Taliban leaders, criticizing policies, or disagreeing with Taliban-approved religious scholars can lead to imprisonment or flogging, insulating those in power from accountability and criminalizing independent thought. Religious conformity is enforced through sanctions against deviation from Hanafi jurisprudence, transforming theological differences into criminal liability. Thus, the law extends beyond regulating conduct to governing belief itself, marginalizing religious minorities and suppressing alternative interpretations of Islam.

A significant feature of this framework is the mandatory reporting obligations, which effectively recruit ordinary citizens into the regime’s enforcement apparatus. The code criminalizes not only prohibited actions but also the failure to report dissenting opinions or oppositional behavior, shifting legal responsibility from individual wrongdoing to loyalty. This represents a considerable departure from established justice principles, redirecting focus from individual accountability to enforced adherence to political authority. By penalizing non-participation in coercive governance, the code institutionalizes collective surveillance, erodes social trust, fragments community cohesion, and subjects daily life to extensive political scrutiny. The resulting penal logic is explicitly political, aimed at disciplining society, enforcing conformity, and suppressing independent civic engagement.

Emerging signs indicate a stratified Afghan society organized according to the three hierarchical categories defined by the new legal framework. At the top are Taliban officials and religious clerics; below them are wealthy and influential ethnic leaders; and at the bottom is the broader population. This hierarchy is not just symbolic—it manifests in daily life. In social gatherings, private events, and even access to public services, those in higher tiers receive preferential treatment. What was once informal social deference has now become institutionalized. Social prestige and privileged access are viewed not as temporary advantages but as legally recognized entitlements.

In summary, the Taliban’s criminal code establishes a coherent system of control built on class-based impunity, collective surveillance, ideological enforcement, and legalized inequality. These components do not constitute a justice system; rather, they create a governing model in which legality expands state power, normalizes arbitrary punishment, and ranks individuals according to their status and utility to the regime. Under this system, impunity increases with power while punishment intensifies for the vulnerable. Afghanistan is not being offered justice through law; it is being subjected to law as a means of domination.

دا قانون پر افراطي مذهبي فکر ولاړ ده چې ساري یې په نورو هېوادونو کې د حکومت د رسمي تګلاري په بڼه نه لیدل کیږي.

اسلام، د یوو دین په حیث، د تاریخ په اوږدو کې مختلف فکري مکتبونه او تفسیرونه لرلي، او مذهبي متفکرونو تل پر موضوعاتو بحثونه او اختلافات لرلي. دا تفسيرونه له معتدل او اصلاح غوښتونکي ليدلوري نيولې تر سخت‌دريځو او افراطي نظرونو پورې غځېدلي دي. څه چې په افغانستان کې پیښیږي هغه د طالبانو د مشرتابه سخت دریزه ايديولوژۍ ده چې نه دیني اړخ او نه هم د افغانانو له تاریخ، دود او غوښتنو سره برابره ده.

د امر بالمعروف او نهي عن المنکر قانون یې روڼه بېلګه ده. دا قانون هڅه کوي چې په زور د جنسیتي تبعیض او استبداد پر بنسټ داسې ټولنه رامنځته کړي چې د طالبانو له فکر او ایډیولوژۍ سره سم برابر نوي انسانان وروزي. دا تګلاره هغو هڅو ته ورته دی چې د پخواني شوروي تر ملاتړ لاندې په کابل کې کمونیستي رژیم کولې او هڅه یې دا وه چې پر کمونیستي روحیه ولاړ نوی انسان جوړ کړي.

په دې قانون کې د ښځو او سړو لپاره جلا حقوق، واکونه او ازادۍ تعریف شوي دي. ښځې یوازې د کورني چوکاټ په دننه کې د ورکړل شویو حقوقو پر بنسټ ژوند کولی شي. د کور څخه بهر ټول سياسي، اقتصادي او ټولنیز مسوولیتونه ــ د طالبانو په نظر ــ نارينه وو ته سپارل شوي دي. ښځې له زده کړو، کار، تګ راتګ او عامه ژوند څخه محرومې شوې دي.

د دې قانون د پلي کولو مسؤولیت د امر بالمعروف وزارت ته سپارل شوی، خو نور وزارتونه او ادارې باید له دې وزارت سره ګډ کار وکړي او د هغه اوامر عملي کړي. قانون د دې وزارت مذهبي پولیسو (محتسبینو) ته واک ورکوي چې د خلکو ورځنی ژوند وڅاري، د دوی په اصطلاح د منکراتو مخنیوی وکړي او پر ناقضینو جزاوې تطبیق کړي. د قانون له نظره د منکراتو څو بېلګې دا دي: د نامحرمو تر منځ د ټولنیزو اړیکو منع کول، د ښځو د جامو او چلند څارنه، په لوړ آواز د ښځو د خبرو مخنیوی، د مسلمانې او غیرمسلمانې ښځې تر منځ د تماس له منځه وړل، او ښځې له محرم پرته د بهر تګ منع کول. د قانون د ۲۰مې مادې له مخې، ترانسپورتي وسایل مکلف دي هغه ښځې د سفر څخه منع کړي چې شرعي حجاب ونه لري او يا له محرم پرته سفر کوي.

د قانون ساحه يوازې د ښځو د محدوديتونو پورې نه محدوده کېږي، بلکې فرهنګي ژوند هم رانغاړي. د ۲۲ مادې له مخې، نارينه نه شي کولای ږیره تر ټاکلي اندازې لاندې کمه کړي، موسيقي واوري، يا د نوروز او يلدا شپه په څېر فرهنګي مراسم ترسره کړي. همدارنګه، په موبایل، کمپیوټر يا نورو وسايلو کې د ژوندي موجوداتو د انځورونو او ويديوګانو جوړول يا ساتل منع دي. دا بنديز د هنر، انځورونو او د بصري استازيتوب پر ټول شکل اغېز کوي، او له همدې امله په دولتي ادارو، پوهنتونونو او عامه ځایونو کې انځورونه لېرې شوي دي.

په عملي توګه، دا قانون يو دولتي–اخلاقي څار رامنځته کوي چې د ښځو واک له منځه وړي، د خلکو کلتوري دودونه کمزوري کوي او عادي ټولنيز ازادۍ محدودوي. د انځور، موسيقۍ او مخلوطت د منع کولو له لارې، دا قانون د يوې داسې ټولنې د جوړېدو هڅه کوي چې د څارنې او جبري يو رنګۍ پر بنسټ اداره شي. دا احکام سمبولیک نه دي—د پلي کولو واقعي واک ورته ورکړل شوی، چې په مرسته يې د ادارو، کاروبارونو او حتی د خلکو د کورونو د تلاشي حق لري. پوهنتونونه د دې قانون تر ټولو روښانه هدف ګرځېدلي دي.

پايله يوازې د حقونو محدودول نه دي؛ بلکې د يو داسې ظالم نظم قانوني کول دي چې غواړي د افغانستان ټولنه د زور، څارنې او د فکري تنوع د له منځه وړلو له لارې بېرته جوړه کړي.

د دې قانون اغیزه پر لوړو زده کړو څه ده؟

په همدې بستر کې د لوړو زده کړو وزير، چې يو سخت‌دريځ او د دوی د مشر نږدې کس دی، د دې اصولو په لوړو زده کړو مؤسساتو کې د پلي کولو رهبري کوي. د هغه پاليسۍ نه یوازې د لوړو زده کړو ادارو لپاره خطرناک دي، بلکې د افغانستان د فکري او ټولنيز راتلونکي لپاره اوږدمهاله زيان ګڼل کېږي.

له همدې امله، هغه امر وکړ چې د وزارت له ويبپاڼې ټول انځورونه، حتی خپل انځور یې حذف شي. پوهنتونونو ته یې لارښوونه کړې چې د انسان د شکل مجسمې، لوگوګانې او انځورونه له منځه يوسي او د امر بالمعروف محتسبینو (پوليسو پولیسو) د داخلېدو اجازه ورکړي.

د هغه د دښمنۍ ريښه په خپله د عصري زده کړو په مخالفت کې ده. هغه پرله پسې د نجونو د زده کړو مخالفت کړی او حتی ويلي یې چې دا بنديز ښايي «دایمي» وي. په يوه شپه کې یې ښځې له پوهنتونونو منع کړې، حتی د امتحانونو پر مهال.

د هغه منطق تخنيکي نه دی—بلکې ايديولوژيک دی. وزير ټینګار کوي چې افغان ځوانان بايد د طالبانو په فکري چوکاټ «بيا روزل» شي. نوموړي په کابل کې یوې مدرسې ته په وینا کې د پوهنتون محصلين «له دښمنۍ ډک فکرونو» اغېزمن بللي او ویلي چې محصلين د «دښمن د فکري جنګ» تر ټولو خطرناک هدف دی. د همدې ليد له امله، هغه په پوهنتونونو کې د ګرځنده تیلفونونو د بندولو او د انټرنټ د محدوديتونو ملاتړ کړی دی.

سره له دې، نوموړي پوهېږي چې ټکنالوژي او د معلوماتو ازاد تګ راتګ د طالبانو لپاره د بشپړ کنټرول مخه نيسي، او دا موضوع د طالبانو مشرتابه اندېښمنه کړې ده.

د داسې کړنو اغیزې پر لوړو زده کړو ژورې دي. پوهنتونونه د ايديولوژي د تزريق ځایونه ګرځېدلي، خو پرمختګ پدې اړوند د طالبانو د توقع خلاف ورو دی. هغوی غواړي چې په يوه يا دوو کلونو کې بشپړ پر خپل فکر برابره ټولنه رامنځته کړي—يو داسې هدف چې تر اوسه نه دی پوره شوی.

د لوړو زده کړو اوسنی حالت، چې د امر بالمعروف قانون پر بنسټ اداره کېږي، موقتي نه دی. د طالبانو مشرتابه په ښکاره توګه غواړي د ښځو د تعليم د بندولو، د علمي ازادۍ د له منځه وړلو او د پوهنتونونو د خپلواکۍ د ماتولو له لارې ټول نظام د خپلې ايديولوژۍ پر بنسټ جوړ کړي. د دوی لپاره د معاصرې نړۍ د حقونو او د دوی د افراطي فکر تر منځ ګډ ژوند ناشونی دی.

دا قانون په دیني دلیلونو ولاړ دی، خو په هغو سختو او رادیکالو تفسیرونو چې د اسلام له منځلارو او نرم دریځونو سره هېڅ تړاو نه لري. اسلام تل د بېلابېلو فکرونو او بحثونو دین و، علماوو تر دې دمه مختلفې نظریې وړاندې کړي دي—ځینې معتدل، ځینې اصلاح‌غوښتونکي، او ځینې ډېر سخت. طالبان بیا تل هماغه سخت او تنگ تفسیر غوره کوي او رسمي کوي.

د «امر بالمعروف» قانون ښيي چې طالبان یوه سخت دریزه، د جنسیت پر بنسټ له تبعیض ډکه او په بشپړ ډول د دوی د فکر تر کنټرول لاندې ټولنه غواړي. پدې قانون کې د نارینه‌وو او ښځو حقوق بېخي جلا تعریف شوي دي. نارینه د عامه ژوند هغه واکونه چې دوی ورته په سیاست، کار، اقتصاد، ټولنیز ژوند کې ورکړي، لري. او ښځې یوازې د کور دننه محدودې شوې دي. ښځې د نارینه محرم تر واک لاندې ګڼل کېږي، او له زده کړو، کار، سفر او عامه ژوند څخه محرومې کېږي.

د دې قانون عملي کول د «امر بالمعروف او نهی عن المنکر» وزارت ته سپارل شوي. دې وزارت ته داسې پراخ واک ورکړل شوی چې د خلکو د ژوند هره چاره څارلي شي او سرغړونکي په نښه او مجازات کولای شي. د دوی د کار ساحه ډېره پراخه ده: د ښځو او نارینه‌وو د خبرو منع، د ښځو لباس او حرکت څارل، د غیر مسلمانو ښځو سره د افغان ښځو خبرې بندول، او د محرم پرته د ښځې د بهر تګ منع کول. د قانون ۱۳ ماده «شرعي حجاب» د ټول بدن پوښ تعریفوي، او ۲۰مه ماده وايي چې هېڅ چلوونکی دې داسې ښځه په موټر کې نه وړي چې حجاب یې پوره نه وي یا محرم ورسره نه وي.

قانون یواځې په ښځو پورې نه محدودېږي؛ فرهنګي ژوند هم په ټوله مانا کنټرولوي. په ۲۲مه ماده کې داسې کارونه منع شوي چې ډېر خلک یې د دود او کلتور برخه ګڼي: د ږیرې لنډول تر یوې لویشتي کم، په کور یا موټر کې موسیقي اورېدل، نوروز یا یلدا شپې لمانځل، او آن په موبایل یا کمپیوټر کې د ژوندیو موجوداتو انځورونه ساتل. دا بندیزونه د هنر، تصویر او ټولنیزو دودونو د له منځه وړلو هڅه ده.

په واقعیت کې، دا قانون داسې پراخ ځواک رامنځته کوي چې د طالبانو په فکر برابر افغاني ټولنه جوړه کړي. دا قانون د ښځو انساني صلاحیت لمنځه ځي، ټولنیز دودونه زیانمنوي، او د خلکو عادي ژوند تر شدیدې څارنې لاندې راولي. د تصویر، موسیقۍ او ګډ فعالیتونو منع کول په دې معنا دي چې ټولنه د وېرې، کنټرول او اجباري یو شانۍ پر لور بیول کېږي. دا یوازې خبرې نه دي؛ محتسبین، د امربالمعروف وزارت ځواک، دا واک لري چې دولتي ادارې، تجارتونه او آن شخصي کورونه وپلټي. پوهنتونونه مجبور شوي چې د دوی حکمونه ته غاړه کیږدي؛ درسي مواد بدل کړي او د دوی عقیدوي کنټرول ومني.

پایله یې یوازې د حقونو محدودول نه دي—بلکې د یوه متشدید او افراطي فکر رسمي کېدل دي، داسې فکر چې غواړي ټولنه د زور او څارنې له لارې بېرته په خپله خوښه جوړه کړي.

پډې ټوله پروسه کې د لوړو زده کړو وزیر رول مهم کېږي. وزیر، چې ډېر توندلاري او افراطي شخص دی، هڅه کوي چې دا قانون په پوره ډول سره په پوهنتونونو کې عملي کړي. د هغه پالیسۍ نه یوازې د پوهنتونونو لپاره جدي خطر دي، بلکې د افغانستان د فکري راتلونکي لپاره هم لوی زیان ګڼل کېږي.

کله چې دا قانون رامنځته شو، وزیر امر وکړ چې د وزارت له وېبپاڼې ټول عکسونه لرې شي—حتا خپل عکس هم. بیا یې پوهنتونونو ته وویل چې د انسان انځورونه، لوګوګانې، مجسمې او هر هغه څه چې د طالبانو له سیاست سره ناسم وي، لرې کړي. مذهبي پولیسو ته یې اجازه ورکړه چې پوهنتونونو ته داخل شي او د قانون تطبیق په خپل لاس وګوري.

د دې ټولو تر شا اصلي دلیل د لوړو زده کړې سره ژوره دښمني ده. وزیر څو ځله په ښکاره ویلي چې نجونې او ښځې باید زده کړې ونه کړي—او آن یې اشاره کړې چې اوسني بندیز ممکن دایمي وي. ده ادعا کړې چې د دوی په تفسیر کې د ښځو تعلیم ته هیڅ دیني دلیل نشته.

د وزیر دلیل خالص ایډیولوژیک دي. هغه ټینګار کوي چې افغان ځوانان باید د طالبانو په فکر «بیا جوړ» شي. په یوه وینا کې یې محصلین د «ذهني اغېزمنېدلو» تر ټولو خطرناک قشر وباله—هغه کسان چې د انټرنېټ او ټولنیزو رسنیو له لارې د «دښمن» فکر تر خطر لاندې دي. نوموړي ټولنه په درې برخو وویشله: مشران چې ټکنالوژي نه پېژني، دیني خلک چې د طالبانو نظریه ملاتړ کوي، او محصلین چې ګواکې د فکري برید اصلي هدف دي. له همدې امله، هغه د پوهنتونونو لپاره د موبایل د بندولو وړاندیز کړی او د انټرنېټ د لا محدودولو ملاتړ کوي.

سره له دې ټولو، وزیر پوهېږي چې ټکنالوژي د طالبانو د فکر بشپړ کنټرول ناشونی کوي. دا خبره د طالبانو لپاره د اندېښنې ځای ګرځیدلې ده، ځکه د پوهنتونونو کنټرول د دوی د ټولنیز بدلون د پروژې مهمه برخه ده.

د لوړو زده کړو نظام یې له بنسټه بدل کړی. پوهنتونونه د زده کړې پر ځای د ایډیولوژۍ د ټومبلو ځایونه شوي، خو دا بهیر د طالبانو د غوښتنې خلاف دومره چټک نه دی. هغوی غواړي په یو دوو کلونو کې بشپړ فکري یو شانۍ ترلاسه کړي—یو هدف چې تر اوسه یې نه دی ترلاسه کړی.

نن چې په افغانستان کې د پوهنتونونو په نوم څه روان دي، د «امر بالمعروف» له قانونه سرچینه اخلي. طالبان غواړي د ښځو د زده کړو بندول، د تصویرونو له منځه وړل، د اکادمیکې ازادۍ ختمول او د پوهنتونونو خپلواکي له منځه وړل د یوې داسې فکري طرحې برخه کړي چې د نړیوالو حقونو او ازادیو سره هېڅ یو ځای کېدل، په اغیزمن ډول سره ترسره شي.

Executive Summary

Approximately four years after the collapse of the Republic, Afghanistan is witnessing a significant regression in the rights of women and girls, marking a troubling chapter in its modern history. The Taliban’s prohibition of secondary and higher education for girls, initially framed as a temporary measure due to concerns about dress codes, has now become a foundational element of their ideological identity. Despite previous promises of potential reconsideration, no advancements have been made. Instead, the Taliban have deepened their totalitarian regime through legal frameworks, institutional changes, and moral surveillance.

This situation should not be seen as merely an administrative issue; it is a deliberate reflection of the Taliban’s political ideology, which rejects gender equality, confines women to domestic roles, and views education as a tool for ideological reinforcement. As long as this mindset prevails among the leadership—particularly their so-called Supreme Leader and the Kandahar clerical circle—girls’ education will remain incompatible with the regime’s governing principles.

International and regional stakeholders missed a critical opportunity early in the Taliban’s rule when internal dissent, global scrutiny, and political uncertainty briefly converged. A misplaced belief in narratives of a “moderate Taliban” and fragmented diplomatic efforts enabled the regime to delay, deflect, and ultimately entrench its position.

The potential for reopening girls’ schools on a large scale now depends on political transformation. Achieving this change will require adjustments in the Taliban’s internal power dynamics, shifts in their ideology through coordinated international pressure with tangible consequences, and broader societal changes. Without such transformations, the ban on girls’ education will remain a deeply rooted aspect of the Taliban’s ideological framework, hindering Afghanistan’s human capital, economic development, and social justice for generations.

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Part 1: The Years of Suppression & Abuse

A troubling image persists: Afghanistan’s once-vibrant schools, filled with girls and women actively participating in public life, now stand silent under the Taliban’s strict rule. The change was swift and devastating. Within weeks of taking power, the Taliban closed nearly all secondary schools for girls, affecting over one million girls who had completed primary education or were already in higher grades. This setback is not merely a policy error or a temporary pause; it clearly indicates that the Taliban never supported equal educational rights. Their focus remains ideological rather than national.

The implications of this ban extend far beyond closed school doors. Denying education results in significant losses in lifetime earnings, undermining household resilience and national economic prospects. Research consistently shows that educated women make informed health choices, leading to lower child mortality rates and improved family well-being. Recent reports indicate a rise in child marriage since the ban, underscoring how the lack of education fuels gender-based violence and entrenched poverty. The human cost is immense, with repercussions that will affect generations.

When the Taliban enacted the ban in 2021, they claimed it was temporary, stating that existing school arrangements violated “religious and traditional values.” However, these values were never clearly defined and shifted in meaning when challenged. In truth, the Taliban’s stance is grounded in their ideological beliefs rather than a reflection of Afghan religious or cultural consensus. If they were transparent, they would acknowledge that education for girls beyond primary level contradicts their doctrine, not Afghanistan’s heritage.

Education is deeply intertwined with ideology and politics, and in Afghanistan, this connection is more evident than ever. Public education mirrors political power: who controls funding, sets curricula, and governs access. Although private education relies less on public financing, it remains subject to state regulation and ideological expectations. This reflects global trends, but under the Taliban, this relationship is pronounced and rooted in a totalizing political agenda.

At its core, the Taliban regime embodies totalitarian governance: consolidating power, enforcing a singular ideology, and stifling dissent. In such a system, education is not viewed as a public good but as a strategic instrument for social control, ideological reinforcement, and regime consolidation. Schools must cater to the state rather than the nation; they are expected to produce compliant subjects rather than critical thinkers. This explains the Taliban’s priorities: expanding madrassas, revising curricula, purging teachers, and enforcing gender segregation, while dismantling mechanisms that foster open discourse or participatory policymaking.

The Taliban’s governance agenda aims to establish a new social and political order—one that negates the achievements of the past century and reinstates a rigid societal structure briefly attempted in 1929. Under this vision, educational policy serves as a primary vehicle for entrenching ideological authority.

The Taliban’s ideological aggression since their return to power reveals a calculated strategy of disruption followed by consolidation. Their initial phase, characterized by sweeping bans and institutional dismantling, eliminated competing sources of authority—civil society organizations, tribal institutions, women’s movements, teachers’ associations, and human rights groups—that once influenced the educational landscape. The current phase seeks to normalize and solidify this order through legal codification, strict enforcement, and a bureaucratic structure that ensures ideological compliance at every level.

The outcome is a society where education is no longer a means of empowerment but a tool for fostering ideological conformity and promoting violence, posing a threat not just to Afghanistan but beyond.

Part 2: The Taliban’s Policy Framework

The Taliban’s education policy over the past four years demonstrates a unified ideological agenda rather than a collection of separate administrative actions. At the core of this agenda is the belief among the movement’s senior leadership that the educational system established during the Republic produced a workforce shaped by secular, liberal, and democratic values, which fundamentally contradict their worldview.

This ideological perspective plays a crucial role in their decision-making. Senior leaders, including their Supreme Leader, Haibatullah Akhundzada, along with key figures like Minister of Higher Education Nida Mohammad Nadeem, have publicly committed to preventing girls from returning to secondary schools and universities. For boys and young men, they promote what they call “re-education,” aimed at eliminating “Western” influences and instilling Taliban doctrine.

Public statements over the last four years highlight the strength of this ideological commitment. At a madrassa graduation in January 2024, Foreign Minister Amir Khan Muttaqi—often perceived externally as a “moderate”—accused Afghan youth of being “brainwashed” by Western ideas and stressed the need for their reintegration into an Islamic worldview as defined by the Taliban. The Minister of Higher Education supported this view, stating that the Taliban-led education system has a responsibility to “correct” the thinking of students influenced by the Republic. These statements clearly reflect a policy objective: to transform schools and universities into instruments of ideological instruction rather than centers for knowledge and public development.

This ideological agenda has unfolded in two distinct phases. From the perspective of punctuated equilibrium theory, the Taliban’s approach can be seen in two distinct streams. First, they initiate a period of aggressive disruption to displace the previous equilibrium and normalize a new ideological structure. Second, once this disruption has settled, they gradually expand institutional changes, ensuring that ideological enforcement becomes deeply entrenched and less reliant on overt coercion.

Phase One: Disruption and Indoctrination (2021–2023)

The Taliban’s initial strategy focused on rapidly disrupting the education system established by the Republic. This phase can be characterized as a “shock stage,” defined by swift institutional changes aimed at dismantling existing frameworks.

Key aspects of this phase included:

1. A nationwide ban on girls’ education beyond primary level, which not only removed a fundamental right but also reduced the perceived social and economic value of women’s education.

2. Purges of female teachers, administrators, and university staff, along with the intimidation or removal of educators deemed “ideologically unsuitable.”

3. Accelerated madrassa expansion, aimed at replacing or overshadowing general education with religious schooling under Taliban control.

4. Curriculum revisions, introducing religious content while eliminating subjects viewed as inappropriate or “Western.”

5. The reintroduction of corporal punishment, indicating an authoritarian approach to socialization and discipline.

Despite internal disagreements among Taliban officials—some advocating for a more gradual approach to avoid public backlash—the more radical faction prevailed, emphasizing immediate structural and ideological changes. This resulted in a policy environment marked by coercion, exclusion, and ideological imposition.

Phase Two: Stabilization and Consolidation (2023–Present)

The Taliban have entered a second phase characterized by the consolidation of an ideologically exclusive order. This phase emphasizes embedding, enforcing, and normalizing the previously established ideological agenda rather than introducing new policies.

A key aspect of this phase is the formalization of ideological control through codified instruments. The Law on the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice illustrates the Taliban’s intentions, effectively marginalizing women from public life and empowering the religious police to enforce “moral order” in both public and private spheres.

This stage aligns with what policy theorists refer to as a policy consolidation period, where the introduction of new regulations slows down, but enforcement becomes more stringent. The Taliban are converting their ideological preferences into binding legal norms, framing them as the legitimate legal and moral foundation of the state.

The shift is also apparent in institutional behavior. Ministries are undergoing ideological vetting, and adherence to Taliban directives is enforced through bureaucratic and coercive measures. For example, the Ministry of Higher Education has removed all images of living beings from its website and ceased public visual representation. In regions like Kandahar, universities have even banned mobile phones on campus, deeming them tools of moral corruption.

This phase is not just about strict enforcement; it also seeks to create a perception of normalcy. By normalizing coercion and integrating ideological control into daily governance practices, the Taliban aim to establish a self-sustaining system where deviation is socially unacceptable and structurally unfeasible.

Throughout both phases, one principle remains constant: education is the frontline of ideological control. The Taliban’s policies demonstrate a steadfast commitment to transforming Afghanistan’s educational landscape into a mechanism for sustaining their totalitarian vision of society.

Part 3: Narrative & Policy

The Taliban’s approach to education is fundamentally shaped by their ideological narrative, developed over the last thirty years. This narrative blends anti-modern education sentiments, selective religious interpretations, and propaganda from the insurgency era, influencing the content, execution, and rationale behind their educational policies. It serves not merely as rhetoric but as a governing doctrine that informs their decision-making.

The Construction of an Anti-Modern Educational Narrative

The Taliban did not merely foster skepticism towards modern education; they radcialized it. They capitalized on existing concerns among religious extremists regarding modern institutions within Afghan society, despite ongoing public support, and reframed these concerns through a rigid ideological perspective unprecedented in the country’s educational history. According to their viewpoint, modern education is seen as corrupt, Westernized, morally hazardous, and incompatible with an “authentic” Afghan-Islamic identity.

Over time, the Taliban institutionalized this perspective through various means:

• Religious narratives, selectively interpreted to justify gender segregation and the subjugation of women.

• Insurgency propaganda, including chants, anthems, and battlefield songs that glorified jihad while denouncing modern schools as centers of moral decline.

• Local messaging networks, comprising madrassa preachers and front-line fighters, who disseminated simplified concepts regarding gender, morality, and the perceived threats of “Western thinking.”

This established a robust ideological ecosystem: a multi-layered network of clerics, commanders, loyalists, and ultra-conservative community members who absorbed and perpetuated Taliban narratives without question. This decentralized yet coherent system enabled the Taliban to sustain a unified ideological message even in the absence of a formal ministry or structured hierarchy during the insurgency.

Narrative Meets State Power

During their insurgency, these narratives had limited practical application; they were more aspirational than actionable. However, after the Taliban took control of Afghanistan in 2021, the ideological framework gained significant weight. What was once rhetoric transformed into governing policy.

The Taliban’s educational narrative is now evident through:

• The ban on girls’ education beyond primary school

• Curriculum revisions that emphasize obedience, religious texts, and moral policing

• Restrictions on subjects considered “Western” (civics, arts, music, social sciences)

• The dismissal of women teachers and administrators from schools and universities.

• The expansion of madrassas as preferred learning institutions

Even laws that do not explicitly address education—such as the Law on the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice—play a role in shaping the social environment necessary for enforcing these educational policies. They limit women’s public presence, justify moral oversight, and foster a cultural climate where educational deprivation is normalized.

From Narrative to Policy

The Taliban’s narrative not only justifies policy but also shapes educational policy based on their radical moral interpretation. A clear example of this is their discourse surrounding ḥayā (modesty) and “protecting morality.” These intentionally vague terms serve as the foundation for specific policies, such as banning girls from secondary and higher education, removing women from classrooms, segregating students, rewriting curricula, and restructuring schools to prioritize obedience over inquiry.

What starts as an ideological assertion transforms into an administrative directive.

The Gendered Foundations of the Taliban’s Narrative

At the core of this ideology is a rigid gender perspective. Within the Taliban’s framework:

• Women are viewed as inherently morally fragile and are relegated to domestic roles.

• Girls are seen as needing “protection” from social exposure, public knowledge, and modern influences.

• Education for girls is acceptable only if it prepares them for motherhood and domestic duties.

• Men alone hold public authority, religious autonomy, and interpretive power.

This worldview is not merely patriarchal; it is totalizing. It frames women’s exclusion from public education not as a social choice but as a divinely mandated reality. In this context, gender equality is not just dismissed; it is perceived as a threat to the moral order and the legitimacy of the state.

The Ecosystem of Narrative Production

The Taliban’s narrative is not solely shaped by senior clerics or political leaders; it arises from a distributed ideological network that includes:

• religious authorities who approve and share doctrinal interpretations;

• madrassa teachers who incorporate these ideas into their lessons;

• members who enforce these beliefs through coercion;

• conservative community members who socially validate them;

• illiterate or semi-literate supporters who accept them as unquestioned truths, as they represent their primary source of information.

These groups constitute a small fraction of the Afghan population, likely less than 10%. This diffusion contributes to the narrative’s resilience, as it is continually reiterated, re-legitimated, and integrated into daily social life. It is neither accidental nor temporary; rather, it serves as a strategic foundation for governance.

Narrative as a Policy Tool

The Taliban utilize narrative to obscure the contradictions and shortcomings of their policies. When their previous justifications—such as dress codes, co-education, and curriculum issues—became challenging to uphold, they pivoted to new arguments, including women’s “safety” or “honor.” This flexibility in narrative enables the Taliban to maintain policies lacking religious consensus, cultural legitimacy, and historical precedent in the Muslim world.

Over time, the narrative becomes the policy, and the policy becomes the narrative.

Ideology Made Visible

The connection between narrative and policy is a hallmark of the Taliban’s governance. Their anti-modern education narrative is not merely an accessory; it is the primary mechanism through which they legitimize state actions, justify repression, and influence the country’s future. By embedding this narrative within administrative frameworks, laws, curricula, and daily life, the Taliban aim to construct a social order that reflects their totalitarian vision.

In this context, schools transform from places of learning into tools for ideological reproduction. The Taliban’s narrative, once limited to insurgency propaganda, has now become the foundation for the state.

Part 4: Taliban & the Policy Process

The Taliban’s takeover of Afghanistan’s education policymaking represents a fundamental transformation, not just a change in leadership. They have replaced a semi-participatory governance structure with a rigid, top-down model designed to exclude alternative voices and consolidate ideological control. This shift is a deliberate effort to eliminate pluralism in education governance and embed the movement’s worldview into the state’s institutional fabric.

From Semi-Participatory Governance to Total Exclusion

During the Republic, the Ministry of Education’s policymaking environment had weaknesses like politicization, donor dependency, and limited capacity. However, it still had formal and informal avenues for participation. Working groups within the Ministry brought together civil society actors, donor agencies, NGO networks, and experts to contribute to initiatives like girls’ education, emergency responses, quality improvement, curriculum development, and teacher training. These groups were imperfect, but they symbolized a commitment to inclusive governance and pluralistic input.

This architecture has been entirely dismantled under Taliban rule.

The Taliban’s Top-Down, Ideologically Driven Model

Under the Taliban, policymaking is now fully centralized within a narrow elite circle, with the so-called Supreme Leader’s office as the ultimate authority. Ministerial bodies function as instruments of enforcement, not policy innovators or autonomous administrators. The system operates according to several defining features:

1. Concentration of Authority

All significant educational decisions are routed upward, often reaching only a handful of senior clerics in Kandahar. This is ideological centralization, not bureaucratic efficiency.

2. Elimination of Participatory Channels

Civil society organizations, teacher associations, women’s groups, donor agencies, and local communities have been stripped of any role in policy deliberation. Many have been banned or operate under severe restrictions.

3. Ideological Veto Power

Even when bureaucrats or technocrats present pragmatic proposals, the ideological leadership retains veto power. The Supreme Leader’s interpretation of religion functions as the ultimate guiding principle.

4. Coercive Compliance

The policy process relies on coercion rather than consultation. Administrative purges, public punishments, and surveillance ensure that opposition cannot shape policy outcomes.

From the standpoint of elite theory, the Taliban’s governance structure represents an extreme concentration of power in the hands of a small ruling group insulated from public accountability.

Policy Process as Ideological Enforcement

The Taliban’s policy process is not merely centralized; it is instrumentalized. Procedures that once encouraged stakeholder engagement are now designed to ensure ideological conformity. Policy design, implementation, monitoring, and enforcement all follow the same logic:

– Design: Policies must reflect the movement’s doctrinal positions, with religious clerics as the ultimate arbiters.

– Implementation: Provincial and district directorates enforce policies mechanically, with little discretion or interpretation.

– Monitoring: Inspections and enforcement are carried out by religious police, Taliban-appointed committees, and intelligence units.

– Accountability: Sanctions, dismissals, and detentions replace professional evaluations or performance-based assessments.

This approach collapses the distinction between policy and ideology. In effect, policymaking becomes a process of translating the Taliban’s worldview into state practice.

From Policy Deliberation to Policy Domination

The exclusion of alternative actors is strategic. Civil society, especially women’s groups and human rights organizations, once acted as critical safeguards for educational equity. Their elimination ensures that no counter-narratives or reform pressures can infiltrate the policy arena.

The Taliban’s domination of the policy process reflects a broader political strategy:

– control discourse

– control policy

– control institutions

– control society

This sequence reinforces the movement’s totalitarian character, in which the state and ideology become indistinguishable.

Implications for Education Governance

The Taliban’s capture and redesign of the education policy process has profound implications:

Loss of Legitimacy

With the elimination of public consultation, the policymaking process lacks democratic or procedural legitimacy. It reflects the will of the ruling movement, not the needs of the nation.

Loss of Technical Expertise

By removing or intimidating technocrats, the Taliban have hollowed out the technical capacity required for system reform, budgeting, planning, or quality assurance.

Loss of Responsiveness

The system cannot accommodate local needs, regional disparities, or specialized issues because it is rigidly tied to ideological dictates.

Loss of Pluralism

The absence of civil society eliminates alternative perspectives, innovations, and critical checks, weakening the entire governance ecosystem.

Institutional Paralysis

With policy driven by ideological inflexibility rather than evidence, Afghanistan’s education sector becomes incapable of long-term planning or adaptive reform.

Conclusion: A Policy Process Designed for Control, Not Education

The Taliban have replaced a flawed but participatory governance structure with a monolithic, exclusionary model. This policy process is not simply authoritarian—it is totalitarian, engineered to ensure that no dissenting voice can influence educational policy. It transforms the Ministry of Education from a national institution into an apparatus of ideological enforcement.

Under this system, policymaking is no longer a forum for problem-solving. It is a mechanism for reproducing the Taliban’s worldview. And education becomes the primary arena in which this worldview is imposed.

Part 5: Strategic Phases of Taliban Consolidation and Policy Implementation

Understanding Taliban governance requires recognizing that their approach to education is not accidental, reactive, or improvised. It is a strategically sequenced political project aimed at reshaping the social order, consolidating authority, and embedding ideological control across institutions. Since 2021, this project has unfolded in two distinct but interconnected phases: initial consolidation and ideological stabilization. Together, they reveal a deliberate attempt to transform Afghanistan’s educational ecosystem into an instrument of totalitarian governance.

Phase One: Consolidation Through Control, Coercion, and Institutional Overhaul

In the first years following their return to power, the Taliban pursued an aggressive strategy to dismantle the existing educational order and neutralize actors capable of mobilizing opposition. This period—best understood as an attempt to establish governance dominance—was characterized by four major developments:

1. Concentration of Power and Elimination of Dissent

The Taliban rapidly centralized decision-making authority, systematically repressing civil society organizations, women’s groups, teacher unions, youth associations, and tribal elders. This crackdown ensured that no competing institution could challenge Taliban authority.

2. Institutional Realignment

The Taliban reoriented the Ministry of Education (MoE) and Ministry of Higher Education (MoHE) toward the movement’s ideological objectives. This involved purging staff associated with the Republic, replacing administrators with loyalists, imposing madrassa-style oversight structures, and reconfiguring school governance to strengthen clerical influence.

3. Legal and Administrative Restructuring

Early decrees and directives laid the groundwork for a new regulatory regime. The Taliban imposed gender bans, dress codes, mobility restrictions, and neo-moral policing practices, creating an administrative environment where compliance was enforced through coercion rather than participation.

4. Suppression of Alternative Narratives

Public expression challenging the Taliban’s educational policies, particularly regarding girls’ education, was criminalized. Activists, academics, journalists, and community leaders faced arrest, intimidation, and exile. As internal pressure built, the Taliban resorted to full censorship, banning discussion of girls’ education altogether.

This first phase established ideological dominance and eliminated the actors necessary for policy contestation, setting the foundation for the second phase, in which the Taliban would transition from dismantling the Republic’s educational order to building and normalizing their own.

Phase Two: Ideological Stabilization and Enforcement (2023–Present)

Having secured institutional control, the Taliban shifted to stabilizing and legitimizing their ideological order. This stage is less about designing new policies and more about routinizing existing ones, embedding them in legal frameworks, and normalizing the Taliban’s vision of society.

1. Legal Codification

The Law on the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice removes women from public spaces, authorizes religious police to enforce moral discipline, legitimizes gender segregation, and normalizes state surveillance in public and private domains. Through legal codification, ideology becomes law, and dissent becomes criminality.

2. Bureaucratic Penetration

The Taliban have embedded ideological supervision throughout all levels of the education bureaucracy, ensuring that educational governance is aligned not with national development needs but with the movement’s doctrinal priorities.

3. Behavioral Normalization

By restricting mobility, censoring public debate, and policing gender interactions, the Taliban have sought to create a social environment in which their ideology feels inevitable. Policies that were once shocking are gradually presented as natural extensions of “Islamic” governance, reducing the need for overt coercion over time.

4. Selective Reinterpretation and Expansion

As stability increases, the Taliban selectively reinterpret aspects of their ideological framework to expand influence where functional gaps remain. This serves to deepen ideological entrenchment and expand the Taliban’s societal reach.

Analytical Perspective: Punctuated Equilibrium and Totalitarian Consolidation

Through the lens of Punctuated Equilibrium Theory, the Taliban’s approach reveals a deliberate two-stage strategy: creating a rupture that dismantles the previous order and installs new ideological structures, followed by consolidation, normalization, and behavioral routinization, making the ideological order durable and self-reinforcing.

Conclusion: An Engineered Social Order

Across its two strategic phases, the Taliban’s policy trajectory demonstrates a coordinated effort to reshape Afghan society through educational control. The shift from shock to stabilization signals the entrenchment of a system designed not to educate but to regulate beliefs, behaviors, gender roles, social expectations, and political loyalties. The Taliban are not merely governing a system; they are re-engineering it. And education—once a tool for national development—is now a mechanism for sustaining authoritarian rule.

Part 6: Prospects for Girls’ Education Under the Taliban Ideological Order

Any analysis of future possibilities for girls’ education under Taliban rule must start with a clear understanding: the current ban is a fundamental part of their ideological project, not a temporary measure. The question is not whether the Taliban will “allow” girls to return to school as they did during the Republic. Instead, the question is whether they will redefine girls’ education to fit their ideological goals while appearing to make concessions.

No Sign of Ideological Change

Despite four years of domestic pressure, international advocacy, and widespread public frustration, the Taliban have given no credible indication that they are willing to revise the core principles guiding their gender ideology. Senior leaders consistently affirm a worldview where:

– gender equality is seen as a foreign idea, – public life belongs to men, – women’s roles are limited to the home, – and education for women is only justified if it supports maternal responsibilities.

Under this doctrine, girls’ education is not a right; it is a conditional privilege granted only when the curriculum, environment, and governance structure align with the Taliban’s ideological vision.

The Myth of “Reopening” Without Reform

Even if the Taliban were to reopen girls’ secondary schools or universities, it would not mean progress toward equality. It would mean the opposite: institutionalizing indoctrination under the guise of education.

Any reopening would be subject to three conditions:

1. Curriculum Control

The curriculum would be revised to emphasize:

– obedience, – religious doctrine aligned with the movement’s interpretation, – moral training, – and gendered socialization.

Critical thinking, civic education, arts, social sciences, and any subject promoting intellectual autonomy would be removed or heavily restricted.

2. Environment Control

Education would be strictly segregated and monitored. Teachers would be vetted for ideological loyalty, classrooms would be watched, and mobility would be tightly regulated.

3. Outcome Control

The goal would not be to empower girls academically or economically but to produce ideologically compliant wives and mothers who can reproduce the Taliban’s worldview within the household.

In this context, schooling becomes an extension of state indoctrination, not a path to social or economic mobility.

Comparative Evidence: The Taliban as an Outlier in the Muslim World

The Taliban claim religious legitimacy for the ban, but their position is unprecedented across the Muslim world. Among 52 Muslim-majority states, none besides Afghanistan under Taliban rule restrict girls’ access to secondary and higher education. Countries like:

– Indonesia,

– Turkey,

– Egypt,

– Jordan,

– Saudi Arabia, and

– Iran (despite its theocratic structure)

not only allow female education but see it as essential to national development, social well-being, and human capability enhancement.

This stark difference highlights a critical point: the Taliban’s stance reflects an ideological agenda unique to their movement, not a theological consensus or cultural norm.

Strategic Reframing: From “Religious Objection” to “Female Safety”

As domestic and international criticism intensified, the Taliban shifted their rationale for the ban. Having failed to justify the policy through religious arguments, they reframed the issue as one of “protecting women” and ensuring “safe” environments.

This shift is revealing:

– it shows ideological rigidity paired with tactical flexibility,

– it masks the lack of doctrinal justification,

– and it repositions the debate from rights to “protection,” sidestepping substantive challenges.

The pattern is clear: when one justification collapses, another is manufactured.

Suppressing Debate and Moral Panic

Starting in 2022, the Taliban banned public discussion of girls’ education and criminalized criticism. Protesters, including women’s groups and youth activists, faced detention, surveillance, and forced disappearance. Civil society organizations were dismantled. Religious scholars who supported girls’ education were silenced.

This censorship serves two purposes:

1. It shields the leadership from internal challenge.

2. It constructs a moral panic in which female education is framed as a threat to societal purity.

These tactics reflect the broader strategy of ideological entrenchment: suppress dissent, monopolize interpretation, and criminalize alternatives.

Education as a Tool of Totalitarian Reproduction

The Taliban’s ideological order is built on a totalizing vision of society in which gender roles are fixed, authority is centralized, and obedience is moralized. In such a system, education is not merely regulated; it is weaponized.

The Taliban aim to produce a new generation of Afghans socialized into:

– a binary worldview of “believers” and “non-believers,” – suspicion of modernity, – rejection of global norms, – acceptance of gender hierarchy, – and reverence for the movement as the sole moral authority.

Under these conditions, the exclusion of girls from meaningful education is not a policy mistake—it is a central mechanism for preserving the ideological boundaries of the Taliban’s political order.

Conclusion: No Genuine Prospects Without Ideological Transformation

The possibility of reopening schools, as suggested in periodic Taliban statements, cannot be seen as a sign of reform. It represents conditional access within an unchanged ideological framework. As long as the Taliban’s worldview remains intact, any shift in educational policy will be superficial, tactical, and strategically designed to strengthen regime stability—not to empower Afghan girls.

Real change would require:

– recognition of education as a right, – rejection of gender apartheid, – dismantling of ideological schooling, – restoration of independent institutions, – and reopening of the public sphere.

None of these conditions are compatible with the Taliban’s governing ideology.

Thus, the prospects for girls’ education under the Taliban are not constrained by logistical obstacles or administrative delays—they are constrained by ideology itself. And until ideology shifts, meaningful reform remains impossible.

Part 7: International Missed Opportunities and the Policy Window

The early months of Taliban rule presented a rare policy window, a brief period when internal pressures, global attention, and regime uncertainty aligned to influence the Taliban’s decisions on girls’ education. This window emerged as the Taliban consolidated power, the Afghan public mobilized, and the international community focused on the crisis. However, this opportunity was squandered. Neither regional allies nor global actors applied the necessary pressure to alter the Taliban’s trajectory. This failure reflected structural limitations, misaligned incentives, and misplaced optimism about the so-called “moderate Taliban.”

A Missed Policy Window: Early Internal Pressures and Global Attention

After August 2021, the Taliban faced intense internal and external pressure regarding girls’ education. Families demanded school reopenings, religious scholars supported girls’ education, and localized protests erupted. International organizations and donor countries stressed that reopening schools was a prerequisite for engagement. These pressures combined to create a brief moment when the political, problem, and policy streams overlapped—the exact conditions for opening a policy window. Taliban officials hinted that secondary schools for girls would reopen, but these signals were deceptive, buying time and reducing external scrutiny.

This window rapidly closed as global attention shifted to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in February 2022. The Taliban capitalized on this pivot, delaying decisions, issuing contradictory statements, and reversing earlier hints of progress. By the time global attention returned, the window had shut.

Why Regional Powers Failed to Act

Countries with close ties or strategic leverage over the Taliban—Pakistan, Qatar, China, and the UAE—were uniquely positioned to influence the group’s decisions. Yet each failed for reasons tied to its own interests, constraints, and calculations.

Pakistan: Influence Without Will

Despite deep historical ties and substantial leverage, Pakistan opted not to apply meaningful pressure. Its calculus prioritized border stability, countering India, and maintaining influence over the new regime—not supporting Afghan women and girls.

Qatar: Strategic Mediation Without Intervention

Qatar facilitated negotiations and maintained channels of communication with Taliban political actors. However, its diplomatic efforts focused on preserving its role as a neutral mediator rather than pressing hard on specific policy issues. Concerned about jeopardizing its broker position, Qatar remained cautious.

China: Stability Over Rights

China’s engagement centers on security, economic access, and preventing spillover instability. Beijing prioritizes counterterrorism cooperation and protecting regional investments—not shaping domestic Afghan educational policy. As such, it avoided challenging the Taliban directly.

UAE: Recognition Calculus

The UAE engaged the Taliban diplomatically, adopting a pragmatic approach driven by interests in recognition, logistics, and influence. It did not leverage its capacity to condition assistance on changes regarding girls’ education.

Collectively, these actors held the necessary leverage but chose restraint, pragmatism, and strategic ambiguity over principled pressure. This failure contributed directly to the closing of the policy window.

The Fallacy of the “Moderate Taliban”

During this period, a damaging narrative gained traction: that internal factions within the Taliban could be persuaded to support girls’ education. International actors, analysts, and some Afghan elites argued that negotiations should be patient, “moderates” should be empowered, and the Taliban needed time to build internal consensus. This framing reflected a profound misunderstanding of Taliban organizational dynamics. The supposed moderates functioned not as policy reformers but as narrative managers, tasked with softening the group’s image and deflecting pressure.

As during the Doha negotiations, these figures reassured diplomats that reforms were forthcoming, framed the ban as temporary, claimed logistical rather than ideological barriers, and urged patience while the “internal process” unfolded. These assurances created a false sense of progress and encouraged a softer approach among key external actors. Meanwhile, within Afghanistan, they weakened resistance, convincing many that confrontation was unnecessary and that change would happen organically.

The result was disastrous. The so-called moderates did not shift policy. They shifted perception—and bought the radicals time.

Decision-Makers Anchored in Ideology, Not Problem-Solving

Fundamentally, the Taliban’s core leadership operates on ideological imperatives, not pragmatic governance. They seek to shape society according to their doctrinal worldview, not respond to social needs or external expectations. For them, equality is a threat, girls’ education challenges their gender hierarchy, and accepting public demands undermines their authority. Given these priorities, it is unsurprising that the leadership rejected problem framing around girls’ education. From their perspective, the issue is not a policy problem requiring attention but a doctrinal boundary that must be protected.

Thus, external incentives that conflict with ideological interests are dismissed.

Internal and External Pressure: Both in Decline

By 2023, internal dissent had been violently suppressed. Civil society groups were dismantled, protests criminalized, and activists detained. The Taliban employed coercive force to eliminate any domestic actor capable of sustaining pressure.

Externally, pressure waned as geopolitical shifts—including Western fatigue, regional normalization of ties, and strategic recalibrations—reduced Afghanistan’s presence on the international agenda. Countries like China and Russia moved toward recognition, further diminishing the leverage once held by global actors.

In this context, the Taliban faced neither internal nor external forces strong enough to compel change.

A Narrow Political Window—Unlikely but Not Impossible

The only scenario in which change becomes possible is through a shift in the political stream—a fracture among elites, internal power struggles, or a recalibration of the Taliban’s political incentives. However, as long as internal and external conditions align with the Taliban’s ideological agenda, such a window remains deeply improbable.

The leadership does not see girls’ education as a problem. Thus, no solution is considered necessary.

Conclusion: A Case Study in Lost Leverage

The international community’s failure to act decisively during the critical early months—combined with misplaced faith in “moderate Taliban” actors—allowed the leadership to solidify its position. The Taliban successfully closed the policy window by suppressing internal dissent, deflecting external pressure, and spinning narratives that delayed action.

The result is not merely a missed opportunity but a foundational setback for the rights of Afghan women and girls. What might have been a moment of influence has become an era of entrenchment.

Part 8: Explanatory Analysis of Taliban Decision-Making and Ideological Rigidity

Understanding why the Taliban persist in banning girls’ education requires looking beyond surface-level explanations and examining the ideological foundation that shapes their decision-making. The Taliban do not view girls’ education as a governance issue, a policy challenge, or a domain requiring technical reform. Instead, they see it as a core aspect of their identity, a key feature of their political theology, and a test of ideological purity. This worldview makes conventional policymaking logic—based on public demand, evidence, or national interest—irrelevant.

The Leadership’s Strategic Horizon: Ideology Over Governance

At the heart of Taliban decision-making lies a leadership circle tightly centered around the Supreme Leader and his closest clerical advisors. Their strategic orientation prioritizes:

– maintaining ideological coherence,

– upholding internal loyalty,

– asserting the movement’s identity,

– constructing a new social order,

– and consolidating their regime through doctrinal authority.

In this worldview, education is not an administrative sector; it is a political instrument. Girls’ education, in particular, represents a symbolic fault line between the Taliban’s ideological project and the social transformations of the Republic. Allowing it would:

– weaken the ideological boundary between the Taliban and the previous state, – undermine their claim to religious authority, – open space for competing worldviews, – and empower women, thereby challenging patriarchal power structures essential to regime stability.

Thus, from their perspective, conceding on girls’ education is not a policy shift—it is an ideological defeat.

Why the Taliban Reject the Problem Framing

For the international community and Afghan citizens, the closure of girls’ schools is a humanitarian, developmental, and moral crisis. But for the Taliban’s leadership, the issue is framed entirely differently.

They reject the idea that girls’ exclusion constitutes a “problem.” Instead, they interpret:

– public demand as social corruption,

– international pressure as moral interference,

– civil society mobilization as fitna (discord),

– and policy advocacy as Westernization.

From this vantage point, there is no incentive to “solve” the issue. Doing so would require accepting a framing that contradicts their ideological premises.

The Taliban leadership does not acknowledge the ban as harmful. They acknowledge it as necessary.

The Ideological Logic Behind Policy Rejection

Taliban ideology combines:

– a literalist approach to religious texts, – a patriarchal anthropology that assigns fixed gender roles, – a suspicion of modern institutions, – and a belief in religious exclusivism distinguishing “true believers” from “others.”

Within this framework, girls’ education is seen as dangerous because it:

– destabilizes the gender hierarchy, – exposes girls to ideas outside the movement’s control, – disrupts domestic roles critical to their political theology, – and introduces intellectual autonomy incompatible with authoritarian rule.

In short, girls’ education poses an ideological threat. And threats, in the Taliban’s system, must be suppressed—not negotiated.

Why External Pressure Fails

External actors often assume that sanctions, incentives, or diplomatic engagement can shift Taliban policy. This assumption fails because it misunderstands the Taliban’s incentive structure.

For the leadership:

– legitimacy comes from religious narrative, not international recognition,

– power comes from coercion, not public consent,

– success is measured through ideological consistency, not service delivery,

– and political survival requires doctrinal purity, not policy performance.

Thus, incentive-based diplomacy—however rational it appears externally—collides with an internal logic in which ideological compromise is a form of defeat.

The Internal-External Symbiosis of Ideological Rigidity

The Taliban’s ability to maintain ideological rigidity depends on a dual dynamic:

Internal Suppression

Civil society, women’s groups, tribal leaders, and youth activists—actors capable of shaping political incentives—have been repressed, eliminated, or silenced. Without internal contestation, ideological decisions remain unchallenged.

External Ambiguity

As global actors shift toward pragmatic engagement or normalization, the Taliban receive signals—intended or not—that their ideological positions do not endanger their diplomatic standing.

Together, these dynamics create an environment of ideological insulation in which the Taliban face no meaningful pressure forcing them to reconsider their stance.

Four Years of Evidence: Consolidation, Not Concession

Across four years, the Taliban have:

– expanded gender restrictions—not reduced them, – strengthened ideological institutions—not weakened them, – broadened the ban on women—not relaxed it, – intensified censorship—not opened dialogue, – and tightened clerical control over policy—not decentralized it.

This trajectory demonstrates a regime moving deeper into ideological governance, not away from it.

Rather than showing signs of softening, the Taliban have shown a growing inclination to:

– institutionalize gender apartheid, – reshape social order according to their creed, – and align governance with their totalitarian vision.

A Predicted Outcome, Not a Sudden Shock

Some observers described the 2021 school closures as “unexpected.” Yet the trajectory of the Taliban movement—from the 1990s, through their insurgency, to their present rule—consistently points to hostility toward female education. The ban was not sudden, nor was it ambiguous. It was:

– historically grounded, – ideologically coherent, – publicly signaled, – and entirely predictable.

The surprise was not the Taliban’s actions, but the world’s doubt in the evidence.

Conclusion: No Change Without Ideological Shift

The Taliban’s stance on girls’ education is not a policy anomaly; it is a core component of their ideological identity. Without a fundamental transformation in the movement’s political theology, there is no pathway—technical, diplomatic, or economic—that can yield meaningful change.

As long as their identity rests on patriarchal doctrine, religious exclusivism, and totalitarian governance, the ban will remain:

– justified internally,

– defended rhetorically,

– enforced coercively,

– and embedded legally.

Thus, the future of girls’ education under the Taliban hinges not on negotiation or administrative reform but on the question of ideology itself—and whether that ideology can be reshaped, contested, or ultimately displaced.

Part 9: The Taliban’s Expanding Totalitarian Order and the Deepening Entrenchment of the Ban on Girls’ Education

Four years into Taliban rule, the trajectory of governance reveals a clear trend: the consolidation of a totalitarian order driven by ideological purification, not social need, public demand, or national interest. The ban on girls’ education, initially framed as temporary, now stands as a key marker of this ideological consolidation. Instead of moderating, the Taliban have expanded and hardened their authoritarian governance, embedding their worldview into law, institutions, social norms, and daily life.

This section examines why hope for reversal has not only diminished but was always misplaced, and why the Taliban’s growing ideological coherence makes meaningful policy change increasingly improbable.

The Ideological Convergence of Power Consolidation and Gender Apartheid

Early analyses after 2021 often speculated that internal debate among “moderate” and “hardline” Taliban could eventually shift the group’s stance on girls’ education. However, it is now clear that the Taliban’s leadership—particularly the Supreme Leader and the clerical establishment in Kandahar—view gender restrictions not as negotiable policies but as proof of their ideological authenticity. Conceding on these restrictions would undermine the internal cohesion of the movement, the theological authority of the leadership, the patriarchal logic at the foundation of their political theology, and the symbolic distinction between their regime and the Republic.

Thus, the ban is not merely a policy choice; it is a badge of ideological purity.

The movement’s most powerful actors share a commitment to imposing a social order rooted in gender segregation, moral surveillance, and clerical control. The notion that schooling for girls beyond primary grades could fit within this order contradicts the core assumptions underpinning Taliban governance.

The Decline of Hope: A Four-Year Pattern of Escalation, Not Moderation

Any residual hope that internal pressures or diplomatic engagement might shift the Taliban’s position has faded. Over four years, the Taliban have:

– expanded restrictions on women’s mobility,– imposed new bans on women in public spaces and employment,– strengthened the authority of religious police,– criminalized debate or protest regarding girls’ education,– intensified censorship, and– increased moral regulation across all sectors.

These developments show a regime moving in one direction only: toward deeper institutionalization of patriarchal authoritarianism. The ban on girls’ education must be understood as part of this broader architecture, not an isolated issue. If anything, the regime’s ideological rigidity has grown more entrenched with time.

Hope did not “fade”; it was systematically dismantled.

Why the Taliban Reject Problem Recognition

One of the most critical obstacles to policy change is that the Taliban leadership refuses to recognize girls’ exclusion as a “problem.” Under Kingdon’s Streams Framework, no policy solution is possible unless decision-makers first acknowledge the existence of a policy problem.

But the Taliban leadership:

– does not perceive the ban as harmful,– does not accept the developmental or economic consequences,– does not recognize public demand as legitimate,– does not accept the idea of equal rights for women, and– does not interpret education as a universal right.

Instead, they frame girls’ education as a potential threat to moral order, ideological coherence, and religious purity. The Taliban leadership’s refusal to accept the problem framing makes any policy window dependent on political, not technical, shifts.

The Impact of External Shifts: Declining Pressure and Strategic Normalization

The decline in external pressure has further emboldened the Taliban. As global crises—particularly the Ukraine war and the Middle East conflict—shifted international attention, Afghanistan receded from the diplomatic agenda. Simultaneously, countries like Russia and China moved toward normalization of relations, giving the Taliban confidence that their ideological choices would not jeopardize international engagement.

This dynamic has strengthened the movement’s belief that ideological concessions are unnecessary for political survival.

International leverage has weakened not only because attention has shifted but because many states have signaled willingness to engage without conditions, reinforcing the Taliban’s ideological resistance.

The Internal Landscape: The Silencing of Civil Society and the Crushing of Advocacy

Inside Afghanistan, the Taliban have extinguished the actors who once created internal policy pressure:

– civil society groups have been dismantled,– women’s rights activists imprisoned or exiled,– tribal and community leaders silenced,– religious scholars intimidated, and– youth networks dismantled.

Without internal pressure, there is no domestic counterweight to Taliban ideology. The regime faces no organized resistance capable of shifting the internal political stream.

This absence of domestic counterpressure has made ideological decisions more stable—and durable.

The Closing of the Policy Window

The first 6–12 months of Taliban rule provided the strongest chance for change. Public mobilization, international unity, and regime instability aligned briefly, creating a potential opening. But that window has fully closed.

Why?

1. Internal repression weakened activist-driven pressure.

2. International distraction fragmented global consensus.

3. Regional actors avoided leveraging their influence.

4. The “moderate Taliban” narrative delayed decisive action.

5. The Taliban leadership solidified ideological control.

By 2023, the possibility of reopening girls’ schools had shifted from unlikely to implausible.

By 2024, it had become ideologically unacceptable within the Taliban’s inner circle.

The Expanding Totalitarian Order

The Taliban’s current governance displays the hallmarks of totalitarian systems:

– a unifying ideology,– absolute control over public and private behavior,– institutionalized surveillance,– elimination of pluralism,– gender apartheid as a structural practice, and– the weaponization of education.

This is not merely authoritarian rule. It is an attempt to engineer society.

Education is central to this project—not as a public good, but as an instrument of ideological reproduction.

Conclusion: No Policy Change Without Political Transformation

The Taliban will not alter their stance on girls’ education unless a political rupture, internal fracture, or shift in power reconfigures their strategic calculus. Technical solutions, humanitarian appeals, or religious persuasion will not suffice. The issue is ideological, not administrative.

Thus, any meaningful progress requires:

– external pressure tied to political costs,– internal realignments among Taliban elites, or– structural shifts in the regime’s stability.

Absent such changes, girls’ education will remain constrained by a political theology that rejects equality, autonomy, and modernity at their core.

The ban is not temporary. It is foundational to the Taliban’s vision of society.

Final Concluding Section: The Ideological Boundary of Girls’ Education and the Limits of Change under Taliban Rule

Four years after the fall of the Republic, the Taliban’s governance has become unmistakably clear. The exclusion of girls from education is not an anomaly, nor a temporary response to administrative challenges, nor a negotiable policy awaiting technical solutions. It is the ideological boundary that defines the Taliban’s political identity, legitimizes their authority, and distinguishes their regime from the modern Afghan state that existed from 2001 to 2021. Any hope for substantive reform must begin with this recognition.

A Missed Diplomatic Moment

In the early months after the Taliban takeover, a rare convergence of pressures emerged. Inside Afghanistan, residents voiced strong and diverse support for girls’ education; outside, the world’s attention was sharply focused on the unfolding crisis. This alignment briefly created the conditions described in Kingdon’s policy framework—where the problem, policy, and political streams intersect to create a window for reform.

However, this window closed quickly. Countries with diplomatic leverage—Pakistan, Qatar, China, the UAE—failed to use it. Each had both the access and political capital to influence the Taliban, but each made a strategic choice to prioritize its own interests over Afghan women’s rights. Their caution, ambiguity, or silence allowed the Taliban to delay, deflect, and ultimately consolidate their stance.

Meanwhile, Western actors fell into a familiar trap: believing that “moderate Taliban” figures could be empowered to counterbalance the hardliners. In reality, these moderates performed the same role they had during the Doha negotiations—managing optics, not policy. Their assurances that the ban was temporary convinced many actors to wait and hope rather than apply decisive pressure.

By the time the global spotlight shifted to Ukraine and other geopolitical crises, the moment had passed; the Taliban recognized it and acted swiftly. The policy window shut, and the regime moved to institutionalize its ban.

Ideology, Not Logistics

The Taliban’s unwillingness to reverse the ban is best understood through their ideological framework, not through the shifting excuses they deploy. Over the past four years, they have offered multiple justifications:

– cultural norms– modesty and moral protection– logistical constraints– safety concerns– the need for “Islamic” educational environments

But these rationales are strategically malleable. As soon as one is questioned, another emerges. Zabihullah Mujahid’s August 14 interview is illustrative: he reframed the ban not as exclusion, but as “kindness,” insisting that girls must be protected and that the Supreme Leader is motivated only by safeguarding their chastity (ʿiffat). This paternalistic rhetoric is not meant to persuade; it is meant to obscure the deeper ideological truth.

The Taliban’s worldview constructs gender hierarchy as divinely mandated, the public sphere as the domain of men, and education as a pathway that must be tightly controlled to prevent moral contamination. Within this framework, granting girls broad educational access is not simply difficult—it is heretical.

Thus, the problem is not logistical; it is doctrinal. And doctrinal problems cannot be solved with technical solutions.

The Political Stream: Why Change Is Unlikely

Under Kingdon’s model, a policy window reopens only when the political stream shifts: changes in leadership, elite alignment, public mobilization, or external pressure alter the incentive structure of decision-makers. None of these conditions exist today.

– Internally, civil society has been dismantled.– The public sphere is silenced through coercion.– Religious scholars who support girls’ education face intimidation.– The Taliban’s base largely consumes ideology through madrassas and internal propaganda.– Externally, countries like Russia, China, and Iran are moving toward normalization, signaling that the Taliban can entrench their ideology without jeopardizing international legitimacy.

Without political costs, ideologically motivated policies remain protected. And within the Taliban’s doctrinal universe, girls’ education beyond the primary level is precisely such a protected domain.

No Change Without Ideological Rupture

The uncomfortable truth—and the one that must be acknowledged openly—is that the Taliban cannot provide equal education for girls without abandoning their core ideological commitments. Every component of their worldview would have to shift:

– their theological interpretation of gender,– their political theology of obedience and moral policing,– their suspicion of modernity,– their belief that women’s presence in public is destabilizing,– and their fear that education empowers dissent.

These are not peripheral ideas; they are the pillars of the Taliban’s identity. As long as this ideological foundation remains intact, any form of girls’ education will be limited, instrumentalized, or designed to reproduce Taliban doctrine.

There is no “technical solution” to an ideological problem. There is only ideological transformation—or regime change.

The Necessary Honesty for Future Policy

The global community, Afghan civil society in exile, and researchers must therefore adopt a more realistic framework. No meaningful change will occur unless:

1. Internal political dynamics shift, creating fractures or incentive changes within the Taliban elite;

2. External pressure becomes strategically coordinated and tied to real political or economic consequences;

3. The Taliban’s ideological legitimacy is challenged, rather than accepted as an immutable reality; or

4. A new political configuration emerges that is not governed by the Taliban’s totalitarian theology.

Without one of these conditions, the ban on girls’ education will remain not only in place but foundational to the Taliban’s governing identity.

مذهبي توندلارو په سیسټماټیک ډول عصري ښوونځي د دیني زده‌کړې سره «په بنسټیز ډول ناساز» معرفي کړي، او داسې فکري درز یې رامنځته کړی چې خپله دیني تفسیر د افغانیت، مشروعیت او برلاسۍ معیار معرفي کړي. دغه روایت د دوو موازي او په اصل کې د متخاصمو تعلیمي ماډلونو ترمنځ اوږدمهاله تنش زېږولی. هرکله چې هڅه شوې چې دیني زده‌کړه د معاصر نصاب په چوکاټ کې مدغم شي، توندلارو سخت غبرګون ښودلی او اصلاحات یې شاته غوځولي؛ د ۱۹۲۹ کال د عصري ښوونځیو تړل، د ۱۹۹۰مې لسیزې په منځ کې د طالبانو بریدونه، او د نجونو پر زده‌کړې اوسنی بندیز د همدې کړنلارې څرګندې بېلګې دي.

تاریخي شواهد په څرګند ډول د دوو متضادو فکري لیدلورو شخړه ښيي. مذهبي توندلارې په خپل ضد-عصري دریځ ټینګ ولاړې پاتې دي او د تعلیمي سیاست د تنظیم لپاره یې تل د خپلو عقیدوي لومړیتوبونو د حاکمېدو هڅه کړې. د طالبانو واکمني د همدې دریځ څرګند تجسم دی: دغه تحریک تل د عصري زده‌کړې پر وړاندې دښمني او د ازاد فکر پر وړاندې کلک مخالفت ښودلی.

په مقابل کې، افغان روښانفکران—هم تاریخي او هم د جمهوریت په دوره (۲۰۰۲–۲۰۲۱)—اکثره دفاعي، احتیاطي او غبرګونیز دریځ غوره کړی. اصلاح‌پالانو د عصري زده‌کړې پر اړتیا ټینګار کاوه، خو د توندلارو د ادعاوو د رد لپاره یې ديني، فرهنګي او فکري بستر ته لږ پام اړولی. د شلمې پېړۍ تر ډېرو کلونو پورې روښانفکران د سیاسي بې‌ثباتۍ تر سیوري لاندې فعالیت کاوه: معاصر تعلیم یې ستایه، خو له توندلارو سره د فکري او عقیدوي بحث څخه ډډه کوله، ځکه وېره وه چې ښايي سیاسي او ټولنیز نظم ګډوډ کړي.

دغه تمایل د جمهوریت په دوره کې هم دوام وموند. پالیسي جوړوونکي او فکري مشران ډېری وخت د طالبانو د افراطي روایتونو د ماتولو مسؤلیت له ځانه لرې کاوه، او حتی د نجونو د زده‌کړې په اړه د طالبانو د استدلال د منطقي تضادونو د افشا کولو پر ځای، ستونزې یې «کلتور» ته منسوبولې او د توندلارو د قناعت لپاره یې نصاب او ښوونیز مواد نرمول. په پایله کې، دوی د یو داسې فکري چوکاټ په وړاندې کولو کې پاتې راغلل چې د توندلارو د سخت دریځ بنسټیزې نظریې ننګولی وای.

د دې کمزورۍ پایلې ژورې وې. د جمهوریت پر مهال د افراطي روایتونو د مستقیمې مقابلې نه‌شتون یوه دایمي اړتیا رامنځته کړه؛ پالیسي جوړوونکي د توندلارو له غبرګون څخه وېرېدل. د طالبانو په واکمنېدو سره دا کمزوري په ښکاره او د پالیسي په کچه بریدونو بدله شوه. د قوي، منسجم او فکري مقابلې د نه‌شتون له امله توندلارو ته زمینه برابره شوه چې پر معاصرو بنسټونو بریدونه وکړي او له جدي مقاومت پرته یې له منځه یوسي. نو هرځل چې طالبان واک ته رسېدلي، د معاصرې زده‌کړې جوړښتونه یې په قاطع ډول ړنګ کړي او د ازاد فکر فضا یې ختمه کړې.

سره له دې چې اوسنی تعلیمي بحران تر ټولو زیات د مذهبي توندلارو له کړنو سرچینه اخلي، افغان روښانفکران باید خپل تاریخي کمزوري هم په رښتیني ډول درک کړي. هغوی تاریخي فرصت، نهادي فضا او علمي سرچینې لرلې چې د توندلارو افراطي تفسیرونه—که د مدرسو د نظام په اړه وو، که د نصاب په اړه، یا د دیني زده‌کړې او د افغانستان د فکري میراث ترمنځ د اړیکو په اړه—ژور او منظم نقد کړي. خو علمي هڅې د سیاسي مصلحت‌ګرۍ تر اغېز لاندې راغلې، او ثبات، مصالحه او قدرت د فکري جرئت ځای ونیوله. کله چې فکري څېړنه د سیاسي محاسبې تابع شي، بې‌له شکه بن‌بست ته رسېږي. په افغانستان کې دغه بن‌بست د ښوونیزې ایډیالوژۍ ډګر تش پرېښود، چې په پایله کې توندلارو ته اجازه ورکړل شوه چې روایت تعریف کړي، پالیسي جوړه کړي، او د معاصرې زده‌کړې راتلونکی په بشپړ ډول وټاکي.

اوس د دې وخت ده چې - بخصوص بهر میشت روشنفکره افغانان - سره راټول شي او د طالبانو مذهبي افراطیت او تورتم پر ضد خپل استدلال او علمي دلایل وړاندي کړي او پرېنیږدي چې یو نسل د افغانانو د دوی د ظالمانه فکر ښکار شي.

𝕊𝕖𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟡, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟙 – 𝕥𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕦𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕗𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤

The Taliban has temporarily suspended all female students and teachers from Kabul University, stating the need to align with religious and traditional norms. The university’s progressive academic environment has made it a key focus for the Taliban’s changes. Other higher education institutions have also been affected by this decision.

𝔸𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕝 𝟚𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟚 – 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕕𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕘𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕖𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕘𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

After the temporary ban, the Taliban Ministry of Higher Education instructed its gunmen and university officials to enforce strict, unprecedented dress codes and complete gender segregation in classrooms, a move unheard of in Afghan universities. The decision to reopen universities has outraged extreme hardliners, who demand a total ban, similar to the ban imposed on public secondary schools for girls.

𝔸𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕝 𝟚𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟚 – 𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕖𝕟

Further details regarding gender segregation in universities have emerged. The new guidelines instruct universities to allocate three days of instruction to women and three days to men in order to maintain segregation. This measure, however, was technically impractical given the severe limitations in resources—limitations that have worsened due to the mass departure of hundreds of academics from the country. As a result, the policy has seriously disrupted the learning process and undermined the learning quality.

𝔸𝕦𝕘𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝟙𝟞, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟚 – 𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕦𝕝𝕦𝕞

The Taliban’s Ministry of Higher Education told its officials, who were all Taliban members with no qualifications to run a university, to add more religious courses to the curriculum. They were told to introduce new religious subjects, in addition to the existing ones. They carried out this instruction quickly.

𝔸𝕦𝕘𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝟚𝟡, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟚 – 𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕔𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕗𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤

In response to the backlash from religious radicals opposed to female students in universities, the Taliban Ministry of Higher Education has ordered female students to fully cover their faces. This directive means students must now strictly follow the established dress codes. This highlights a contrast between the so-called moderates and the hardliners, with the former wanting to outline the benefits of females being trained in their ideology at universities, and the radicals, including their leader, having no confidence in universities.

𝕆𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟟, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟚 – 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕓𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕜𝕖𝕪 𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕞𝕚𝕔 𝕗𝕚𝕖𝕝𝕕𝕤

Women are prohibited from studying agriculture, mining, civil engineering, veterinary medicine, and journalism, deemed “too difficult” for women.

𝔻𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟘, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟚 – 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕓𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤

Female students are barred from public and private universities until further notice.

𝔻𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟜, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟚 – 𝕓𝕒𝕟 𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕗𝕚𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕖𝕩𝕔𝕝𝕦𝕕𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕕𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕒𝕤

A letter from the Ministry states that the suspension applies only to higher education for women, not madrasa studies.

𝕁𝕒𝕟𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝟚𝟙, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟛 – 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕖𝕩𝕔𝕝𝕦𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕞𝕤

The Ministry orders the removal of women from university admissions testing.

𝕁𝕒𝕟𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝟚𝟝, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟛 – 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕗𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖𝕣𝕤’ 𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖

Female lecturers are instructed to sign timesheets only once a month at a designated campus gate.

𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙 𝟞, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟛 – 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕒𝕕𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤

Institutions are ordered to admit only men for the upcoming academic year.

𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙 𝟙𝟚, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟛 – 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕓𝕒𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕦𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕠𝕔𝕦𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟

Universities are prohibited from providing transcripts and certificates to female graduates.

𝔻𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟝, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟛 – 𝕗𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕟𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕚𝕕𝕨𝕚𝕗𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕖𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕤𝕦𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕

Religious police halt nursing and midwifery programs for women in Kandahar.

𝔽𝕖𝕓𝕣𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝟙𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟜 – 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕚𝕟𝕧𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕

Medical institutes are directed to cancel winter semesters taught to women and repeat them next year.

𝔽𝕖𝕓𝕣𝕦𝕒𝕣𝕪 𝟙𝟡, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟜 – 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕝 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕧𝕒𝕝 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕗𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕞𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘

The Ministry permits a female doctor (with mahram) to participate in nursing and midwifery student registration and exams in 11 provinces.

𝕁𝕦𝕝𝕪 𝟚𝟛, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟜 – 𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪 “𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕕𝕦𝕣 𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕒𝕫” 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕗𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕞𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕤

Female medical students are required to wear a full-body chador to enter colleges.

𝕁𝕦𝕝𝕪 𝟚𝟡, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟜 – 𝕞𝕒𝕛𝕠𝕣 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤

A report documents a severe decline in higher education, ideological control, and academic deterioration.

https://8am.media/eng/major-setback-for-education-schools-and-universities-under-taliban-rule/

𝕁𝕦𝕝𝕪 𝟚𝟡, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟜 – 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕠𝕝𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕠𝕗 𝟙𝟙 𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕖𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕥𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤

The Taliban dissolves 11 public higher education institutes, restructuring under ideological control.

https://x.com/HafizZeiya/status/1866797084093059369

𝕁𝕦𝕝𝕪 𝟚𝟡, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟜 – 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖𝕕 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕕𝕖𝕠𝕝𝕠𝕘𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

Reports highlight: – curriculum rewritten for religious ideology – widespread appointment of mullahs – elimination of scientific disciplines https://8am.media/fa/universities-under-the-knife-of-ideology-taliban-mullahs-curriculum-for-higher-education/

𝔻𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟚, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟜 – 𝕨𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕓𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕕𝕪𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕟𝕖

The Ministry of Public Health announces a complete ban on women studying medicine and orders final exams within 10 days.

𝔻𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟠, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟜 – 𝕗𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕒𝕕𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕗𝕗 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕

Herat University instructs that women unable to work in person must appoint a male relative to collect salaries on their behalf.

𝔻𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝟙𝟙, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟜 – 𝕗𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕤𝕥𝕒𝕗𝕗 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕

The Ministry announces the termination of all female administrative staff, offering replacement by male family members.

𝕁𝕦𝕝𝕪 𝟙𝟘, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟝 – 𝕠𝕗𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕘𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕗 𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕞𝕚𝕔 𝕕𝕖𝕘𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕋𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕓𝕒𝕟 𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕔𝕤’ 𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕖𝕣𝕤

Clerics with ‘Alamiya qualifications are recognized as holding bachelor’s and master’s equivalents, enabling credential issuance.

𝕁𝕦𝕝𝕪 𝟚𝟞, 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟝 – 𝕍𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕍𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕦𝕖 𝕃𝕒𝕨 𝕖𝕟𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕔𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕖𝕤

The Minister orders universities to implement religious moral policing, monitor curricula, and raise students according to Taliban values. https://www.mohe.gov.af/dr/node/13182

𝕃𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝟚𝟘𝟚𝟝 – 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕗𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕤 𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕖𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕔𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕞𝕦𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕙𝕤

Reports confirm: – termination of university professors – replacement with mullahs – full ideological restructuring of universities. https://8am.media/fa/complete-talibanization-of-universities-26-professors-and-mullahs-have-been-appointed-in-four-universities/

Reference:

https://www.usip.org/tracking-talibans-mistreatment-women?utm_source

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• August 30: The Taliban announced the prohibition of mixed-gender education and stated that male teachers would not be permitted to instruct female students.

• September 12: Authorities suspended secondary education for girls.

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• January 3: Educational facilities for blind girls in Nangarhar and Kunar were closed.

• February 7, 2022 – Taliban officials send daughters to school abroad. Reports indicate that Taliban elites are sending their daughters to schools overseas while restricting girls’ education in Afghanistan.

• March 17: Officials announced that girls’ schools would reopen at the start of the 1401 school year.

• March 24: Shortly after, a new announcement confirmed that girls in grade seven and above would remain out of school.

• June 1: In Ghazni, girls in grades four through six were instructed to cover their faces while traveling to school, with noncompliance potentially leading to expulsion.

• September 11: Secondary and high schools for girls in Paktia, which had briefly reopened, were closed again.

• October 6: Hundreds of adolescent girls in Kandahar were removed from school following verbal orders from local education officials.

• December 22: Girls above grade six were prohibited from attending private tutoring centers and courses.

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• June 8: Foreign NGOs were banned from providing educational services, including community-based programs. UNICEF estimated that this decision would impact approximately 500,000 learners, including around 300,000 girls.

• October 22: Kandahar’s religious police informed elementary schools and women’s madrasas that the burqa would be the only acceptable form of hijab.

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• Jan 13, 2024 – Local leaders advocate for reopening girls’ schools Religious scholars and elders urge the Taliban to reopen schools and universities for girls.

• Jan 11, 2024 – Detention of girls for dress code violations UNAMA reports the arrest of women and girls at schools for alleged hijab violations.

• Jan 13, 2024 – Book bans in schools and libraries Taliban intelligence bans the sale and printing of 100 books; some have been removed from schools.

• Jan 15, 2024 – Taliban supporters receive academic credentials Mass issuance of educational credentials to Taliban followers occurs.

• Jan 17, 2024 – Taliban promotes ideological “re-education” for youth Leadership claims that students have been “brainwashed” and must undergo ideological reshaping.

• Jan 20, 2024 – Brainwashing narrative reinforced in universities Minister of Higher Education pledges to “fix” youth ideology.

• Feb 22, 2024 – Girls over 10 banned from school in Kandahar The Taliban orders schools to exclude girls aged 10 and older from attending classes.

• Feb 23, 2024 – Conflicting Taliban statements on girls’ schools The Deputy Foreign Minister supports reopening girls’ schools, while the Minister of Higher Education opposes it.

• Feb 25, 2024 – Acknowledgment of 700 ghost schools The Taliban Ministry of Education reports approximately 700 non-existent “ghost schools.”

• Feb 28, 2024 – Reports of abuse include school children The UN includes school students in reports of abuse within educational settings.

• February 22: In Kandahar, school leaders were instructed to prevent girls aged ten and older from attending classes below grade six. The same directive required girls in grades four to six to cover their faces on their way to school.

• March 31: Several educational centers for girls in Kabul were closed after registering students above the sixth grade.

• March 4, 2024 – Ban on criticism of Taliban education policies A Taliban official states that no one may criticize the regime.

• March 8, 2024 – Calls to reopen schools in Bamyan Local scholars and professors advocate for the reopening of girls’ schools.

• March 18, 2024 – China-Afghanistan joint institute established A technical/vocational cooperation agreement is signed.

• April 23, 2024 – Schools converted to religious institutions 25 public schools are transformed into madrasas in Takhar and Badakhshan.

• April: Kabul’s provincial education department issued a commitment form to private school administrators, agreeing to uphold the ongoing suspension of schooling for girls in grades seven through twelve.

• May 27, 2024 – Taliban takes control of educational aid distribution Centralization of assistance impacts school support.

  May 9, 2024 – Aid disruption affects students in Ghor 42,000 families lose assistance, impacting education.

• June 09, 2024 – No schools in Helmand district The Deshu district lacks any functioning school infrastructure.

• June 10, 2024 – Credentials exam results announced Evaluation of academic documents is conducted under the new system.

• June 2024 – Regulation of private school fees The Taliban enforces control over private school fees.

• June 4: The Bamyan education department mandated that schools teaching students from both the Hanafi and Jafari traditions must provide textbooks representing both jurisprudences, replacing single-tradition materials.

• July 5, 2024 – Female professors’ salaries reduced Policies discourage women from teaching.

• Aug 24, 2024 – Ban on online learning above grade 6 in Khost Restrictions are placed on radio and TV educational programs.

• Aug 25, 2024 – Suspension of foreign scholarships The Taliban blocks scholarships to prevent “brainwashing.”

• Aug 30, 2024 – Taliban expresses doubts about modern schooling ideology

• August 24: The Acting Minister of Higher Education signled that the ban of girls’ education might turn permanent.

• August 25: The Taliban have imposed restrictions on educational programs above grade six that are broadcast through local radio and television stations.

• September 29: The Taliban has introduced the propaganda book, “Emarat-Shenasi” (Understanding the Emirate), to school students.

• Sep 01, 2024 – Taliban leadership vows never to reopen girls’ schools An internal commitment is made not to reopen girls’ schools or universities.

• Sep 02, 2024 – UN Security Council disagreement on Taliban education law

• Sep 09, 2024 – Students’ tents destroyed in floods in Ghor Students in Firoz Koh lose temporary learning spaces.

• Sep 13, 2024 – Testimony: 95% graduate illiterate Public school graduates reportedly lack basic literacy skills.

• Sep 30, 2024 – Ban on foreign scholarships A Taliban leader orders a prohibition on all foreign studies.

• October 03: Students in Kabul have prevented the celebration of Teachers’ Day.

• November 13: In Uruzgan, community-based education centers run by international NGOs were ordered to close.

• November 27: Accelerated learning programs funded by UNICEF in Bamyan—designed for out-of-school girls below grade six—were shut down by provincial authorities.

• December 24: A letter from the Ministry of Education reiterated that girls above grade six remain barred from public and private schooling, referencing an earlier decree from the Emir and instructing Herat’s education officials to continue enforcing the suspension until further notice.

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References:
United States Institute of Peace. “Tracking the Taliban’s (Mis)Treatment of Women.” Accessible at: https://www.usip.org/tracking-talibans-mistreatment-women

Feminist Majority Foundation. “Taliban Edicts — Education.” Accessed at: https://feminist.org/our-work/afghan-women-and-girls/taliban-edicts/#education

Afghan intellectuals and secular thinkers—defined here as individuals who value scientific inquiry, human experience, rational reasoning, and critical thought, regardless of their level of education or place of residence—have historically encountered significant challenges in presenting coherent, evidence-based arguments and in maintaining effective public critiques against religious radicalism. This shortcoming is particularly noticeable in discussions about modern education, human rights, and democratic values. It is striking, especially considering the intellectual resources, institutional access, and support many in this group have had. Instead of leveraging these advantages to form a united intellectual front, they have struggled to effectively challenge an ideological movement that poses a threat to their intellectual and professional existence. Rather than developing a collective counter-vision, many have opted to accommodate the status quo, seeking security through alignment with ruling authorities for employment and protection, or have become mired in internal divisions based on ethnic, religious, and linguistic differences.

In contrast, religious radicals have consistently articulated a clear and adaptable ideological stance since the rise of the reformist movement, the first Afghan intellectual movement, in the early twentieth century. They effectively adjusted their discourse and strategies to changing social and political landscapes, allowing them to sustain momentum. Whether operating within the state apparatus during the Republic era or mobilizing against it during the Taliban insurgency, they seized every opportunity to expand their influence and promote their worldview. A key aspect of their agenda has been a continuous challenge to intellectual, egalitarian, and reformist ideas, particularly evident in their systematic opposition to public and modern education.

Religious radicals have systematically framed modern schooling as fundamentally incompatible with religious views, creating an ideological divide that positions their interpretation of religious learning as superior and more authentically “Afghan.” This narrative has fostered a long-standing tension—indeed, a deep-seated antagonism—between religious and modern educational models. Attempts to integrate religious teachings within modern frameworks have often faced radical backlash, reversing hard-won reforms, as seen in the prohibition of modern schools in 1929, the Taliban’s assault on education in the mid-1990s, and the current ban on girls’ schooling.

The historical evidence highlights a clear contest between two opposing worldviews. Religious radicals like the Taliban have remained steadfast in their anti-modern stance, persistently seeking to influence educational policy according to their doctrinal priorities. The Taliban era exemplifies this position: the movement has consistently expressed hostility towards modern schooling and resistance to free inquiry.

In contrast, Afghan progressive thinkers—both historically and during the Republic (2002–2021)—have often taken a defensive and reactive approach. Reformists advocated for the necessity of modern schooling but rarely engaged with the radicals’ claims within their religious, cultural, or intellectual contexts. Throughout the twentieth century, intellectuals operated under political volatility, maintaining rhetorical support for modern education while shying away from confronting the doctrinal arguments posed by radical actors, fearing that such confrontations could destabilize the political or social order.

This tendency persisted during the Republic, where policymakers and intellectuals often deflected responsibility for countering the Taliban’s extremist rhetoric or exposing its logical inconsistencies—particularly regarding women’s and girls’ education—by attributing resistance to “culture” or making concessions on schools and curricula to appease radical sentiments. Consequently, they failed to present a coherent intellectual response capable of challenging the foundations of extremist ideology.

The implications of this failure were profound. During the Republic, the reluctance to directly challenge radical narratives fostered a persistent vulnerability, as policymakers feared provoking backlash. Under the Taliban, this vulnerability has resulted in explicit, policy-driven attacks on modern education. The lack of a robust intellectual counter-narrative has allowed radicals to continue their assault on modern institutions without facing significant resistance. Thus, whenever the Taliban regained power, they acted decisively—dismantling modern learning structures and eliminating spaces for free intellectual inquiry.

While the current educational crisis can primarily be attributed to religious radicals, Afghan intellectuals must also recognize their own shortcomings. They had the historical opportunity, institutional space, and scholarly resources to critically examine and counter radical interpretations—whether related to seminaries, curricula, or the relationship between religious education and Afghanistan’s rich intellectual tradition. Yet scholarship became intertwined with political considerations, driven by the need for stability, compromise, and power. When intellectual inquiry is subordinated to political pragmatism, it inevitably reaches an impasse. In Afghanistan, this impasse left the field of educational ideology largely uncontested—allowing radical actors to define the narrative, shape policy, and ultimately determine the future of modern education.

All Afghan intellectuals—especially those in the diaspora who possess the safety and freedom to speak—now bear a moral responsibility to critique, challenge, and counter the Taliban’s radical ideology, as well as that of other extremist groups, and to contribute to freeing the nation from this form of ideological occupation.

This escalating conflict has ignited waves of nationalistic rhetoric in both countries’ tightly controlled media. Yet beneath the surface, a remarkable shift is taking place in Pakistan’s own public discourse. After years of denial, a growing number of Pakistani journalists, analysts, and even officials are beginning to acknowledge what Afghans have long claimed—that Pakistan’s powerful military and intelligence establishment, especially the Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), spent decades cultivating extremist groups as tools of foreign policy. What was once dismissed as Afghan blame-casting is now echoing within Pakistan’s own walls, revealing a slow and uneasy reckoning with a policy that has come full circle.

Following the collapse of the Taliban regime in 2001, many senior leaders found refuge in Pakistan, where they reorganized with the help of sympathetic networks. This led to the gradual emergence of a new militant coalition. By 2007, the TTP was formally established as an umbrella organization uniting various jihadist factions operating along the Durand Line, the porous border between Afghanistan and Pakistan. The communities on both sides of this border share significant ethnic, linguistic, and religious ties, particularly among the Pashtun tribes, who have historically faced marginalization in both countries.

In Pakistan, most of these groups were concentrated in the Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA), which, until 2018, were governed by a colonial-era framework known as the Frontier Crimes Regulation (FCR). This system significantly restricted the reach of Pakistan’s civilian institutions, leaving the region without access to modern education, healthcare, and infrastructure. In this context, madrassas—religious seminaries often supported by political or external actors—became the main sources of education and social mobility. These institutions not only addressed the educational gap but also provided ideological frameworks that facilitated militant recruitment, particularly when influenced by powerful institutions seeking strategic advantage.

The TTP declared war on the Pakistani state in an effort to impose its interpretation of Sharia law. Over the years, it has conducted a campaign of terror throughout Pakistan, targeting civilians, soldiers, and schools. Its most devastating act occurred in December 2014, when gunmen attacked the Army Public School in Peshawar, resulting in the deaths of over 130 children. Two years prior, the group attempted to silence Malala Yousafzai, a young advocate for girls’ education in Swat Valley, whose survival and international recognition have come to symbolize resistance against the extremism that Pakistan once supported.

In response, the Pakistani government employed military force, designating the TTP as a terrorist organization and launching extensive operations like Zarb-e-Azb (2014) and Radd-ul-Fasaad (2017) to dismantle its networks. However, while Islamabad focused on combating the TTP domestically, it continued to support the Tehrik-i-Taliban Afghanistan (TTA) across the border, viewing them as a strategic asset for maintaining influence in Afghanistan. This contradictory approach—labeling militants as “good” or “bad” Taliban—has had significant repercussions. The TTP has not only persisted but has also gained strength, drawing ideological support and safe havens from its Afghan counterparts. In attempting to leverage extremism for geopolitical gain, Pakistan now finds itself caught in a complex situation of its own making.

The Radicalization Project

In December 1979, the Soviet Union’s invasion of Afghanistan led to millions of Afghans fleeing their homes, seeking refuge in Pakistan, Iran, and other neighboring countries, resulting in one of the largest refugee crises of the 20th century. Within Afghanistan, a jihad emerged, framed as a holy war against Soviet occupation and the communist regime in Kabul supported by Moscow. The Western allies recognized Afghanistan as a crucial front in the Cold War, prioritizing the defeat of the Soviets and initiating a significant covert operation to arm and fund the Afghan resistance.

Arab states, particularly Saudi Arabia, matched American funding and mobilized volunteers from across the Muslim world united under the banner of Islamic solidarity. Concurrently, a vast network of madrassas—Islamic seminaries established along the Pakistani-Afghan border—became centers for recruitment, indoctrination, and logistical support for the Afghan jihad. Many of these madrassas, following the Deobandi tradition, served not only as religious institutions but also as ideological training grounds where anti-communist and pan-Islamic narratives merged with militant fervor. What began as a strategy to weaken the Soviet Union ultimately laid the groundwork by ISI for a new generation of radicalized fighters, whose influence would persist long after the Cold War concluded.

The ISI played a crucial role in shaping the Afghan jihad during the 1980s. It initiated a comprehensive effort to radicalize Afghan resistance and mobilize fighters for the anti-Soviet war, turning what could have been a nationalist struggle into an ideologically driven holy war. Historically, Afghans had resisted foreign invasions through tribal and nationalist means without resorting to militant Islamism. However, the Pakistani establishment viewed Islamic radicalization as a way to align Afghanistan’s resistance with its regional ambitions, particularly against India. This strategy aimed to achieve three interconnected goals: to create a weak, religiously influenced Afghan state reliant on Pakistan; to establish a friendly regime in Kabul that would counter Indian influence; and to secure strategic access to Central Asia, while maintaining Pakistan’s dominance in the region.

Central to this geopolitical strategy was the madrassa system, which the Pakistani military and religious elites transformed into a tool for ideological engineering under the guise of religious education. Presented as a defense of Islam against communism, these madrassas became breeding grounds for a generation of young men who learned to associate piety with militancy and modernity with moral decline. What began as a Cold War alliance in the name of faith and freedom evolved into a self-sustaining system. Even after the Soviet withdrawal in 1989, the networks, doctrines, and loyalties formed during that time persisted—adapting to new adversaries and political landscapes.

Thousands of madrassas, many funded by Saudi Arabia and other Gulf donors, were established along the Durand Line and throughout Pakistan’s side of the Durant Line. The Deobandi tradition, exemplified by the Darul Uloom Haqqania in Akora Khattak, became the template for this initiative. Known as the “University of Jihad,” Haqqania produced many future leaders of the Taliban movement. By merging religious education with militant indoctrination, Pakistan’s establishment not only created a proxy army for its regional strategy but also fostered a transnational ideological movement whose effects continue to resonate across South and Central Asia today.

During the 1980s, the madrassa network expanded significantly, reaching refugee camps and impoverished border communities by providing free food and religious education to children. Many Afghan refugee families, unable to access public schools in Pakistan and eager to educate their children, inadvertently became part of a larger ideological movement. What started as a response to the Soviet invasion gradually evolved into a long-term indoctrination system. Even after the Soviet withdrawal, these madrassas continued to function under the oversight of ISI, aligning with the state’s strategy for “strategic depth” in Afghanistan. By the early 1990s, they had become self-sustaining entities—politically advantageous, financially backed by Gulf donors, and ideologically independent enough to continue their mission without direct control.

Over time, these seminaries spread throughout Pashtun-majority regions of Pakistan, enrolling not just Afghan refugees but also local Pakistani students. The distinction between host and refugee communities diminished as shared classrooms created a new generation united by a common militant identity. By the mid-1990s, thousands of these students—referred to as Taliban, or “students of religion”—crossed into Afghanistan to engage in jihad and restore what they viewed as Islamic order. Upon capturing Kabul in 1996, they established the first Islamist regime in Afghanistan’s history, shaped not by tribal traditions or nationalism but by a strict madrassa-based ideology.

In the following five years, the Taliban regime imposed an extremist societal vision rooted in the authoritarian, male-dominated culture of the madrassas from which it originated. Their interpretation of Islam positioned men and women as fundamentally unequal—men as enforcers of divine order, women as subjects confined to obedience and domestic roles. Under this doctrine, education for girls was prohibited, women were excluded from public life, and a comprehensive system of surveillance and punishment was implemented through the Ministry for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice. The outcome was one of the most severe and systematic gender apartheid systems in modern history—a direct political manifestation of the ideology once propagated in Pakistan’s seminaries.

Following the Taliban’s fall in 2001, many of their leaders sought refuge in Pakistan, regrouping under the protection of supportive religious networks and elements within the security establishment. During this time, the TTP emerged in 2007, uniting various militant factions operating in Pakistan’s tribal borderlands. This development resulted in the formation of two distinct yet ideologically connected movements: the TTA and the TTP. The TTP pledged bay‘ah—a religious oath of allegiance—to the TTA’s leadership, reinforcing their shared objectives of establishing Islamic governance and resisting Western influence.

The Pakistani establishment made a strategic distinction between the “good Taliban”—the TTA, which aligned with Pakistan’s regional goals in Afghanistan—and the “bad Taliban”—the TTP, which directly threatened Pakistan’s internal stability. In practice, however, both groups maintained close ideological, operational, and tribal connections. Pakistan’s intelligence and religious institutions played a crucial role in facilitating the TTA’s resurgence, providing sanctuary and logistical support that enabled it to sustain a prolonged insurgency against the U.S.-backed Afghan Republic. The Taliban’s return to power in August 2021 not only signified the collapse of the Afghan Republic but also initially seemed to fulfill Pakistan’s longstanding strategy of achieving “strategic depth” in Afghanistan, a strategy that has since proven to be quite problematic. Many senior Taliban leaders, including the current Emir, Hibatullah Akhundzada, were educated in Pakistani madrassas, some of which they later managed madrassas in Quetta and other border regions.

When the Taliban took control of Kabul, many within Pakistan’s political and military circles celebrated it as a historic victory. The atmosphere in Islamabad was one of triumph; senior officials and commentators viewed it as the culmination of decades of strategic investment. The current Pakistani defense minister, Khawja Asif, famously stated, “You may have the power, but God is with us… Allah is great” referencing the Doha Agreement between the Taliban and the United States. Shortly after the Taliban takeover, the ISI chief made a high-profile visit to Kabul, a symbolic act highlighting Pakistan’s belief that it would have significant influence over the new regime. The expectation was clear: the movement Pakistan had nurtured for years would now help achieve its geopolitical goals and stabilize its western border.

However, the past four years have revealed a different reality. Instead of bolstering Pakistan’s position, the Taliban’s governance has strained bilateral relations. Islamabad had anticipated that the TTA would rein in the activities of the TTP, but this expectation has largely been unmet. After two years of intermittent negotiations, Pakistan has reported that talks have failed, claiming the TTP has found safe havens and tacit support within Afghanistan. Rather than being dismantled, the group appears to have gained strength, launching renewed attacks across Pakistan’s frontier provinces. While there are still occasional diplomatic contacts between Islamabad and Kabul, the fundamental structural tension—stemming from Pakistan’s long-standing reliance on militant proxies—remains unresolved.

Deradicalization: The Way Forward

In recent weeks, a subtle yet significant shift has begun to take shape within Pakistan’s political and military elite. Some policymakers and analysts are reevaluating the long-standing strategy of supporting Islamist militancy as a foreign policy tool, suggesting it may be time to pivot towards supporting a representative Afghan government. Several senior analysts have indicated that the establishment has recognized the need for a strategic recalibration, hinting that Pakistan may no longer back militant proxies. If this is accurate, it would represent one of the most substantial policy shifts in Pakistan’s modern history. However, there is still limited concrete evidence that this new direction has been fully institutionalized, and even if it has, the real challenge lies in execution. Dismantling a structure that has been built and nurtured over four decades will not be straightforward.

The ideology that Pakistan once promoted has now taken root within its own society. according to a 2015 survey, the country is home to approximately 35,000–40,000 madrassas, madrassas, with an enrollment of over three to four million students. However, a November 2025 press briefing by a spokesperson for the Pakistani Army indicated that the number has increased to 100,000, representing a more than 150% rise. Given this expansion, the total enrollment could now easily reach around 10 million students.

Over the past four decades, these institutions have graduated millions of students, many of whom now constitute a significant religious class that influences Pakistan’s social, political, and institutional spheres. Many of these seminaries remain unregistered and operate outside the formal education system, funded by private donations, religious charities, and foreign benefactors. Over the years, this extensive network has cultivated an influential clerical class that wields social authority and political leverage beyond the state’s control. Thus, deradicalization is not just a policy issue but a matter of societal transformation.

Meanwhile, across the Durand line, the Taliban’s regime has reignited the ideological project that originated in Pakistan’s madrassas. Since 2021, the number of religious schools in Afghanistan has reportedly increased more than fifteen-fold, according to estimates from the Taliban officials and education monitors. These new madrassas are reinforcing the same rigid, gender-segregated ideology that Pakistan’s establishment once helped to institutionalize.

A pressing question now faces Islamabad:

• what will become of the madrassas that were central to its strategic ambitions but are now contributing to domestic instability?

• Can Pakistan realistically reform these institutions—transforming them into genuine centers of learning rather than sites of ideological indoctrination?

Such reform would require not only changes in curriculum and teacher training but also a decisive break from the longstanding practice of using religion for geopolitical advantage.

There are indications within Pakistan’s leadership that such a transformation is essential. Yet the challenge is daunting. The madrassa system has evolved into a self-sustaining, financially independent, and socially entrenched entity, supported by powerful networks of alumni and clerical organizations. Even if Pakistan’s establishment genuinely seeks to reform the system, it may no longer possess the political capacity or societal consensus to manage the forces it once set in motion.

The Afghanistan Education Situation Report 2025, jointly published by UNICEF and UNESCO, aims to provide an overview of education under Taliban rule, addressing access, quality, and system performance across primary, secondary, and higher education.

The main concerns regarding the Report pertain to its scope and methodology. Substantively, the Report focuses primarily on identifying problems but lacks essential explanatory discussion. This is particularly significant when using the Gross Enrollment Ratio (GER) to assess the public schooling system’s ability to integrate out-of-school children into formal education. By not addressing the structural and contextual factors influencing GER trends—such as age-grade distortion, repetition rates, administrative practices, and demographic uncertainties—the analysis leans more towards description rather than a thorough analysis.

Methodologically, the weaknesses are even more evident. The Report relies predominantly on data from the Education Management Information System (EMIS), the Ministry of Education’s administrative database. EMIS has long struggled with issues of data accuracy, consistency, and verification. Under the Taliban’s de facto rule, independent access to and validation of EMIS data is nearly impossible, heightening the risk of systematic distortion, political manipulation, or administrative inflation. In this context, depending on a single administrative source without a transparent validation process raises significant concerns about credibility.

Additionally, the Report does not provide a clear strategy for data verification or validation. There is no evidence that triangulation with independent sources—such as household surveys, international datasets, or third-party assessments—was conducted to validate enrollment figures. The Report also fails to specify which indicators should be interpreted with caution due to known limitations in the numerator or denominator estimates. This lack of methodological safeguards prevents readers from assessing the reliability of the reported trends. As a result, the credibility of the enrollment figures—especially those related to secondary education and gender disaggregation—remains challenging to evaluate.

The following section will highlight key components of the Report for a detailed critical analysis, concentrating on both substantive interpretation and methodological integrity.

A Key Issue in the Report’s Evaluation of the Public Schooling System’s Capacity via GER

In this Report, the GER is a crucial metric for assessing the participation and capacity of Afghanistan’s education system. It is widely used by UN agencies and education researchers, making it a suitable proxy indicator in situations where reliable age-specific enrollment data is unavailable. The EMIS faces numerous shortcomings, particularly under the current regime, and does not provide students’ ages, which is essential for calculating the Net Enrollment Ratio. In such contexts, GER stands out as the relevant and appropriate measure for cross-provincial and longitudinal analysis.

However, this choice comes with significant caveats, particularly concerning the denominator. Afghanistan’s last national census was conducted in 1979, and since then, all population estimates from the National Statistics and Information Authority (NSIA) or international organizations are based on projections using assumed annual growth rates. These projections do not completely capture the effects of four decades of conflict, internal displacement, refugee movements, changing fertility rates, and uneven demographic shifts across provinces. Consequently, both the NSIA and the UN are producing different population figures, and estimates of the school-age population—the basis for GER calculations—are inherently uncertain. This uncertainty limits the interpretation of GER trends, especially at the provincial level where migration and displacement have been inconsistent.

There is some ambiguity surrounding the definition of “official school age.” While the Education Law indicates that the age range for entering first grade is between six and nine, the Report does not clarify whether the official entry age used is strictly seven years or aligns with the age range specified in the Law. This is a crucial issue, as it impacts approximately 30 points of the GERs, potentially lowering them if the age definition from the Education Law is applied. This inconsistency complicates the accuracy of the denominator in the Report’s data presentation.

On the numerator side, further methodological issues arise. The Ministry of Education has been known to keep students on enrollment lists for extended periods—sometimes up to three years—after they have effectively left school. This practice inflates enrollment figures and obscures actual dropout rates, particularly at the secondary level. Official EMIS data report over two million secondary students, including girls, despite documented restrictions on girls’ education beyond Grade 6 under the current regime. Thus, enrollment figures for girls in Grades 7–12 often exist in administrative records but do not reflect actual classroom attendance. Additionally, the Report does not clarify whether the total enrollment figures pertain solely to public schools or if they also include private institutions and non-formal education, such as community-based programs.

It is crucial to acknowledge these constraints on both the numerator and denominator. GER should not be viewed as a precise measure of age-appropriate access or actual attendance; rather, it reflects the reported enrollment capacity relative to projected population cohorts, capturing participation levels under imperfect demographic and administrative conditions.

The failure of the Report to clearly address these methodological limitations undermines its analytical credibility. In a politically sensitive environment where independent verification of EMIS data is severely limited, the lack of a well-defined validation strategy—such as triangulation with household surveys or independent evaluations—raises valid concerns about data reliability. A thorough analysis must therefore highlight these caveats, enabling readers to interpret observed trends with appropriate caution.

What are the reasons for the GER exceeding 100?

Another important issue that requires careful consideration is the interpretation of GER values above 100. While the Report views GER levels over 100 as a clear sign of increasing system capacity, this interpretation is somewhat simplistic. A more nuanced analysis shows that GER values above 100 come with various methodological and structural caveats.

First, GER exceeds 100 when students outside the official age range—both over-age and under-age—are enrolled in school. In contexts where delayed entry is common or grade repetition is prevalent, a significant number of over-age students can inflate total enrollment relative to the official school-age population. This does not necessarily indicate improved access or efficiency; rather, it may highlight age-grade distortion within the system. When GER rises significantly beyond 100—especially toward 150 or higher—it may indicate systemic inefficiencies such as delayed progression, high repetition rates, or administrative retention of students on enrollment lists.

Second, the dynamics of repetition and dropout further complicate the interpretation of GER. In systems where students repeat grades or where administrative records do not promptly remove dropouts, enrollment totals can remain artificially high. This situation creates a form of “silent exclusion,” where students are counted within the system statistically, even if they are not making meaningful progress or attending school. Such practices inflate the numerator of the GER while obscuring underlying issues in grade progression and completion.

Third, extremely high GER values may reflect overcrowding or strain on infrastructure rather than healthy growth. When total enrollment significantly exceeds the official-age population, the system may be absorbing students inefficiently, potentially compromising quality and instructional effectiveness. This is particularly relevant in public schooling systems, such as Afghanistan’s, where planning is influenced by both demand and supply, and demand analysis is based on the school-age population in the denominator.

These interpretive factors are crucial for scholars and professionals who use GER as an indicator of system performance. Without a transparent discussion of age-grade distortion, repetition, dropout recording practices, and uncertainties in the population denominator, GER trends can be misinterpreted as unqualified success. A thorough analysis must, therefore, go beyond descriptive reporting and critically examine the structural conditions that lead to GER values above 100. Only through such scrutiny can GER be a meaningful indicator rather than merely a superficial marker of expansion.

Identifying the Problem Without Addressing the Causes

The Report focuses solely on the problems at hand, without addressing the underlying causes or political factors that influence these issues. Although it includes the term “Situation” in the title, indicating a broader inquiry beyond the numerical data, it does not delve into the contextual meanings associated with the situation. One significant omission is the institutional aspect, specifically the changes in the national policy framework for education. For instance, the Report fails to examine how the notorious and discriminatory Law on the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice shapes and restricts education policy. It also overlooks how the policy-making process itself has changed. Decision-making that was once centralized in the MoE has now shifted, yet the Report lacks an analysis of how this restructuring affects educational governance. These changes in authority and scope are essential, especially if the Report aims to contribute to discussions on educational reform in Afghanistan. If the MoE is no longer the primary decision-making body for key education policies, fundamental questions arise: Who are the current decision-makers? How are policies now developed and enforced?

An important aspect missing from the Report is the role of school-based management and social accountability in the schooling system, which is essential in the current suppressive environment. Community involvement remains one of the few mechanisms that can protect schools from abuse, political interference, and arbitrary changes imposed by the regime. This raises the question of the role of civil society, local councils, and school councils in education governance. The de facto authorities have long prohibited school councils and community shuras, effectively excluding communities from school affairs. This move aims to transform schools into traditional authoritarian madrasa-style institutions, devoid of public participation, transparency, and accountability to parents. This represents a significant structural issue that directly impacts school governance and educational outcomes. The Report should have highlighted this gap and underscored the urgent need to restore and strengthen participatory school governance, drawing on successful experiences from the Republic era where community-based participation enhanced access, school safety, and accountability.

The recommendations section is a crucial yet absent component of the Report. While it thoroughly discusses the issues, it does not address the vital question: what are the solutions?

Although proposing solutions might seem outside the scope of a technical document, given the current educational crisis in Afghanistan, a forward-looking section is as important as problem analysis. Without a clear roadmap, the Report risks becoming just another descriptive document lacking actionable direction. UNICEF, UNESCO, and other UN agencies are expected to play a key role in shaping the educational aspect of the UN’s MOSAIC framework for Afghanistan, which remains one of the most significant international roadmaps for engagement in the country, despite its limitations. Therefore, the Report should include a clear set of policy recommendations and a separate annex on education that outlines not only the problems but also their causes and practical solutions, providing a credible path forward for both national stakeholders and international partners.

Despite these limitations, one section of the Report is particularly noteworthy for its clarity: it accurately identifies the Taliban’s education policies as a direct cause of systemic collapse. Unlike prior reports that attributed failures to conflict or economic crisis, this one recognizes the deliberate policy decisions driving educational decline. The Taliban have shifted the education system toward ideological indoctrination rather than genuine learning, significantly expanding madrasa-style religious instruction. They have implemented a unified curriculum for Grades 1–6 that allocates nearly half of teaching time to Islamic subjects, displacing essential subjects like mathematics, science, and social studies. Official communications to schools mandate reduced instruction in languages and social sciences in favor of religious education and selective STEM subjects aligned with the regime’s ideological agenda. This is not education reform; it is educational re-engineering.

The Report reinforces that girls are disproportionately affected by Taliban policies, with 2.2 million adolescent girls excluded from education, and an additional 397,000 losing access each year.

The Report uses the World Bank’s report, Afghanistan Learning Poverty Report, published last year, and reinforce that learning is not happening in Afghan schools – according to the Report, 93 percent of children completing primary school in Afghanistan cannot read a simple text, ranking it among the worst-performing education systems globally.

The Report notes that nearly half of schools lack basic water and sanitation, over 1,000 schools remain closed, and child labor and child marriage are on the rise due to educational exclusion. Over 90 percent of the Ministry of Education budget is allocated to salaries (Tashkīl), leaving minimal resources for textbooks, teacher training, classroom materials, school repairs, or winter heating. The education budget exists solely to sustain the system administratively, rather than to ensure academic functionality.

The Report identifies several key challenges and reiterates ongoing concerns regarding access, exclusion, and declining quality. However, it primarily remains descriptive and does not address the deeper structural, institutional, and policy factors contributing to the crisis. By not confronting the political and policy roots of educational repression or offering a clear framework for solutions, it risks reinforcing the issue rather than fostering a meaningful discussion on how to protect and rebuild education in Afghanistan.

The Taliban’s Minister of Higher Education, a close confidant of their supreme leader, has become notorious for his hostility toward academic freedom, modern scientific inquiry, and critical thought. His worldview mirrors, almost verbatim, the ideology of the Taliban’s supreme leader. For those who rely solely on surface-level media reports to understand this position, a careful reading of the Taliban’s Law on the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice provides a more direct entry point into their ideological foundation.

This law is heavily grounded in religious justifications, but specifically those stemming from the most radical schools of thought. It must be acknowledged that Islam has always contained multiple interpretive traditions, and across its history, scholars have debated, disagreed, and provided a wide range of opinions. These interpretations extend from moderate, reformist views to hardline extremist ones. The Taliban leadership and its senior officials, however, consistently select and institutionalize the most rigid and extremist readings.

The Law on the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice is the clearest illustration of the Taliban’s ideological choice to impose a gender-segregated and authoritarian social order. It codifies fundamentally different sets of rights and liberties for men and women, institutionalizing a sharp division between the public and private spheres. Men are assigned authority and responsibility for all matters outside the household—encompassing political, economic, and civic domains—while women are legally and physically confined to the domestic sphere. Placed firmly under the supervision of male guardians, women are denied the right to education, employment, freedom of movement, and participation in public life.

The enforcement of this vision is delegated to the Ministry for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice (PVPV). The law explicitly empowers its enforcers (muhtasibīn) to monitor daily life, issue prohibitions, and mete out punishments for transgressions. Their mandate is sweeping: prohibiting social interaction between unrelated men and women, policing women’s dress and conduct, restricting contact between Muslim and non-Muslim women, and barring women from appearing in public without a mahram. Article 13 of the law defines “sharia hijab” as full-body covering, and Article 20 requires transport providers to refuse service to any woman not wearing such attire or traveling without a male guardian.

The scope of the law extends beyond gender restrictions to encompass cultural life more broadly. Article 22 lists “wrongful acts” to be eradicated, including men shaving their beards below a fist’s length, listening to music in homes or vehicles, and observing cultural festivals such as Nawruz or Shab-e Yalda. It also prohibits “making or possessing pictures or videos of animate beings on mobile phones, computers, or other devices.” This provision not only bans photographs and art but also underpins broader restrictions on visual representation, leading to the removal of images from government websites, universities, and public spaces.

In effect, the law establishes a state-supervised regime of moral policing. It strips women of agency, erodes cultural traditions, and suppresses ordinary social freedoms. By outlawing images, music, and mixed-gender sociality, it seeks to create a society governed by surveillance and enforced conformity. The provisions are not symbolic: they are tied to concrete enforcement powers that allow PVPV agents to inspect institutions, businesses, and even private homes. Universities, for example, have been ordered to eliminate images, expel women, and submit to regular inspections by religious police.

The result is not merely a restriction of rights but the legal entrenchment of a totalitarian vision in which Afghan society is remade through coercion, surveillance, and the suppression of diversity in religious and cultural expression.

In this context, the Minister of Higher Education—an extremist figure closely aligned with the supreme leader—has spearheaded the implementation of these principles within universities. His policies represent not only an immediate threat to higher education institutions (HEIs) but also a long-term danger to the intellectual and social fabric of Afghanistan.

Since imposing the PVPV, the minister has ordered the removal of all photographs from the Ministry of Higher Education’s website, including his own. More recently, he instructed universities to erase images, logos, and sculptures of human figures, as well as those symbols deemed incompatible with Taliban policies. In addition, he authorized religious police to enter university campuses to inspect and enforce compliance with the PVPV.

Underlying these measures is a deep antagonism toward modern education itself. On multiple occasions, the minister has explicitly opposed girls’ and women’s education, going so far as to suggest that the ban may be permanent. He claims there is no religious basis—within their selective interpretation—for allowing Afghan girls to attend schools. Soon after taking office, he abruptly barred women from universities, even in the middle of annual examinations.

His arguments are rooted less in technical or policy reasoning and more in ideological conviction. The minister persistently emphasizes the need to “re-doctrinate” Afghan youth with the Taliban’s ideological framework. In a recent speech at a madrasa in Kabul, he expressed open distrust of university students, portraying them as dangerously vulnerable to secular thought and anti-Taliban sentiment transmitted via social media and the internet. He divided society into three categories: elders unfamiliar with technology, religious actors who defend the Taliban’s ideology, and HEI students who, he claimed, are susceptible to “enemy brainwashing.” From this perspective, he has pushed, reportedly, for banning smartphones in universities and has supported broader restrictions on internet access.

Despite his efforts, the minister is acutely aware that technology and the free flow of information make it increasingly difficult for the Taliban to fully control or indoctrinate students. This recognition has become a source of concern for Taliban leadership, as it threatens the social engineering project entrusted to the higher education sector.

The impact on HEIs has been profound. Universities are being reshaped into sites of indoctrination, yet the pace of change has not met the Taliban’s expectations. Their ambition is to achieve full conformity within one or two years, with students and institutions embracing their ideology wholesale. Incremental progress is dismissed as insufficient—they demand immediate and total compliance, which has so far eluded them.

The policies now imposed on Afghanistan’s universities, grounded in the PVPV, are not temporary measures. The Taliban’s leadership has demonstrated its determination to use every available mechanism—excluding women from education, banning images of living beings, suppressing academic freedom, and dismantling institutional autonomy—to force universities into alignment with their ideological agenda. They recognize, more than anyone else, that coexistence between their version of religion and globally recognized norms of rights and liberties is impossible. It is this irreconcilability that drives their uncompromising policies in higher education and beyond.

• Images and Signs: The Ministry of Higher Education (MoHE) has officially banned the display of images of living beings, as well as signs deemed inconsistent with Taliban policies, within HEIs.

• Smartphone Use: Both students and faculty are prohibited from using smartphones on campus, a move justified by officials as a way to prevent “un-Islamic” practices.

• Internet Restrictions The Taliban has cut off internet access in several provinces, severely disrupting academic communication and learning. Authorities have indicated their intent to expand surveillance of online activities, including attempts to monitor even basic messaging platforms such as WhatsApp.

• Expanding Censorship of Books: Books authored by women have reportedly been banned from university classrooms and libraries. Earlier in mid-September, the MoHE also prohibited more than 650 books previously taught or cited in universities, directing institutions to replace them with materials aligned with Taliban policies. These bans extend to key scholarly theories, most notably Darwin’s theory of evolution.

• Oversight by the Ministry of Vice and Virtue: According to MoHE directives, the Ministry of Vice and Virtue has been granted supervisory authority to oversee implementation of these rules within higher education. This expands religious oversight directly into universities and solidifies the regime’s control over academic and intellectual spaces.

These bans were announced in the days leading up to and during the United Nations General Assembly (UNGA), a moment when many countries—including regional and Muslim-majority states—were calling on the Taliban to lift restrictions on education, rights, and liberties. The timing indicates that the Taliban’s actions were not coincidental but rather a calculated signal of defiance, projecting a deliberate disregard for international appeals and reinforcing their uncompromising stance on domestic control.

This week's decision on the list of topics banned from the school curriculum.

The scope of these revisions is extensive: they affect 51 subjects, representing the majority of social science materials from grades 1 through 12, and result in the removal of nearly hundreds pages of content. This constitutes the second major wave of curricular changes. The first occurred in 2022, when entire subjects such as Constitution, Civic Education, and Human Rights were eliminated and replaced with religious content, including the introduction of explicitly ideological material such as Jihad.

Although the Taliban initially planned to rewrite the entire curriculum, financial and logistical constraints—including the prohibitive costs of new textbook production and distribution—have slowed this process. The Taliban’s Minister of Education has publicly complained about the lack of international support for printing new textbooks and has suggested that external donors demanded the removal of “Jihad” from the curriculum as a precondition for assistance. In response, the current strategy has shifted toward a more incremental—though still sweeping—approach: systematically reviewing existing subjects and excising or altering specific content deemed incompatible with Taliban ideology.

Under this second wave of changes, entire categories of knowledge are being removed. Topics such as women’s rights, human rights, equality, freedom, democracy, constitutionalism, cultural pluralism, critical inquiry, and global outlook have been removed. In conceptual terms, this amounts to the deliberate elimination of all discourse related to rights, liberties, equality, and civic participation—an outcome entirely consistent with the Taliban’s laws and policies, which explicitly reject the principles of equal rights and democratic governance.

The ban extends beyond predictable categories such as human rights. For instance, International Teacher’s Day has been eliminated. The Taliban’s underlying position, conveyed implicitly through their curricular revisions, is that only religious teachers, or those under their direct supervision, should be recognized as legitimate educators. These figures, in their framework, must not be equated with secular teachers, as they are set apart by a distinct and elevated role. Acknowledging International Teacher’s Day would therefore suggest extending respect and legitimacy to educators outside Taliban control—something their policies seek to withhold.

Similarly, topics such as peace—crucial in a country scarred by decades of conflict—have been eliminated. In their place, the Taliban promote the doctrine of violent Jihad, which directly contradicts the notion of peace as a civic or moral value. Museums glorifying military artifacts and narratives of violent struggle underscore this shift.

Equally significant is the removal of topics on mass communication and public awareness in the subjects. In a country where communities are geographically and socially fragmented, such topics would have introduced students to the role of communication in building social cohesion and problem-solving. For the Taliban, however, independent communication and civic mobilization are unacceptable. Public discourse is to be monopolized by the state; civil society, political parties, and independent institutions are already banned.

The topics on traditional Afghan institutions such as the Jirga—historically central to governance, conflict resolution, and community representation—are also excluded. The Taliban seek to replace this centuries-old participatory mechanism with state-controlled religious councils, thereby dismantling community-based governance structures and consolidating power in a rigid top-down model. Likewise, cultural forms of expression such as poetry, drawing, and national anthems are restricted. The Taliban emphasize that their religious anthems played a decisive role in mobilizing fighters and sustaining morale during the insurgency. Precisely because they recognize the power of such symbolic tools, they now seek to monopolize the entire domain of collective expression.

Community-produced anthems, and cultural symbols—forms through which people articulate independent meanings and identities—are regarded as potential threats and eliminated from the curriculum, since they might generate narratives that counter Taliban ideology. For this reason, the institution of the anthem, like other cultural symbols, is being brought firmly under Taliban control. Among the few formal laws issued recently is a the Regulation of Poetry Recitation Gatherings Law, which explicitly prohibits any criticism of Taliban policies. By extending regulation to cultural and artistic expression, the Taliban demonstrate their intent to dominate not only knowledge production in education but also the broader symbolic sphere of Afghan society.

Even the celebration of Spring and Nawroz, which symbolize renewal and cultural continuity, is prohibited in the curriculum as it contradicts the Taliban’s ideological agenda.

These curricular changes are not isolated incidents but part of a broader campaign of ideological engineering. In recent weeks alone, nearly 679 subjects around 90% of the total subjects—primarily in the social sciences and humanities—have been removed. This curricular purge has been accompanied by repression: civil activists who criticize the changes have been detained, teachers’ and students’ associations have been dissolved, and educators who challenge Taliban policy face severe punishment. In one case, a school principal was sentenced to death for speaking on the value of modern education. Parallel restrictions on media and speech further reinforce this silencing.

Taken together, these measures provide compelling evidence that Afghanistan is rapidly moving toward a religious totalitarian system. This system rejects pluralism, equality, and critical thought in favor of indoctrination, obedience, and militant ideology. In place of human rights, democracy, and cultural diversity, students are now taught a fictitious narrative built on violence and the systematic erasure of Afghanistan’s civic and cultural heritage.

This piece reports the recent updates to the textbooks and the enforcement of the ban. These changes are being implemented under the guidance of the Taliban’s supreme leader, with his close associates translating his directives—set forth in the Law of Vice and Virtue and other regulations—into evaluation criteria.

At the start of this academic year, the Taliban’s Ministry of Higher Education formed a committee of religious clerics and university lecturers to review the textbooks used at both undergraduate and graduate levels. Unofficial reports indicate that this committee rejected only about 10 percent of the materials, which was below expectations. Unhappy with this outcome, the ministry appointed a second committee of 270 religious figures closely aligned with the supreme leader to conduct a more thorough review. According to a directive from the ministry, this committee was tasked with examining textbooks and curricula from ideological, religious, and policy perspectives that align with Taliban priorities.

List Of Ban Subjects

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This time, the committee reportedly rejected nearly 679 out of more than 700 (unofficially reported) textbooks—over 90 percent of the previously approved materials. Banned subjects included sociology, law, political science, research, history, diplomacy, public administration, the arts, literature, economics, and most other fields. In their place, the ministry mandated that only alternative books conforming to Sharia principles and the Taliban's policies be utilized in academic programs.

Upon reviewing the list of banned subjects, the reasoning and patterns behind the Taliban’s decisions become clear. Any information or academic discourse that could empower students to critically question, reject, or ultimately challenge Taliban ideology is targeted for exclusion. A key aspect of this pattern is the suppression of ideas that contradict their worldview, particularly regarding the unequal status of men and women and the strict division between believers and non-believers. Materials presenting alternative perspectives are systematically banned and substituted with content intended to reinforce the Taliban’s ideology and social structure.

This act is part of a broader campaign to ban books and control the production and circulation of knowledge in Afghanistan. The Taliban have already confiscated thousands of books from libraries and bookstores, claiming they contradict the group’s ideology and policies. These actions extend beyond censorship; they represent a systematic effort to reshape Afghan society and erase the intellectual and academic advancements made over the past two decades, replacing them with the Taliban’s own vision of social and cultural order.

In SSA, as in other parts of Africa and the world, mere enrollment does not guarantee learning. The impressive enrollment figures can be misleading when assessing actual learning outcomes for children. In some countries, while enrollment rates are high, significant disparities exist in progression from primary to secondary education, particularly along gender and wealth lines. Girls, especially in rural areas, are less likely to access secondary education, and this likelihood diminishes further for those from poorer backgrounds.

Quality of education is another critical aspect to consider alongside access. Not all students who enter schools achieve equitable learning outcomes. In the SSA context, silent exclusion and lack of functional skills hinder effective learning. For instance, in Zambia, 33% of primary school graduates cannot read, indicating high illiteracy rates. Gender remains an important factor; although enrollment numbers appear favorable—with Malawi achieving gender parity from 41% in the 1980s to equal enrollment by 2006—the statistics do not tell the whole story. The gains primarily benefit wealthier families, and dropout rates remain high, with survival rates in Nigerian schools dropping from 83% to 71%.

Family wealth plays a significant role in education across Africa, with the wealth gap often exceeding the gender gap. Findings from eleven African countries support this observation, showing varying impacts of wealth disparities across different nations.

During the Republic, academic decision-making involved a limited yet genuine form of shared governance. In public universities, ministerial approval was required, but institutional senates, departmental committees, and inter-university councils could influence outcomes by presenting well-reasoned proposals and forming coalitions. Private higher education institutions (PHEIs) had relatively more freedom to launch new programs, revise curricula, and hire faculty, provided their initiatives complied with MoHE standards and accreditation requirements. This hybrid model—where state regulation was balanced by institutional agency—has been dismantled. The Taliban have removed universities' residual autonomy, abolished the Supreme Council that previously acted as a decision-making body in academic governance, and shifted decision-making to the minister's office, subject to direct intervention by the Supreme Leader for ideologically significant policies.

Recent decrees illustrate the immediacy and extent of this hierarchy. In December 2022, the Minister issued an immediate ban on women's university attendance, disrupting ongoing final examinations and forcing institutions to expel female students without allowing them to finish their final exams. Shortly after, ministerially appointed inspection teams examined university libraries, removing books deemed inconsistent with Taliban doctrine. Such actions exemplify a governance system where university compliance is mandatory, enforced by the threat of punitive oversight.

The Taliban have also nullified the body of higher education laws and regulations established between 2001 and 2021. The MoHE's website has removed all previous legal documents, retaining only those issued after August 2021. This elimination has created a climate of legal uncertainty for administrators, where procedures and precedents can be overturned at any moment based solely on the ideological preferences of the ruling elite. To date, seven regulatory packages have been released: six adjust curriculum and program governance, while one restructures faculty affairs. Although varying in scope, each package reinforces a single principle— authority over academic matters rests with the minister, reflecting the Supreme Leader’s prerogative.

The new guidelines establish a top-down process for curriculum revision and program approval. Departmental proposals now undergo an extended review process: first, they are evaluated by ministry staff for technical coherence; next, they are assessed by the minister’s policy office for consistency with Sharia and Taliban ideological goals; and, if deemed acceptable, they proceed through multiple bureaucratic checkpoints before final approval. The minister possesses near-absolute discretion to accept, modify, or reject proposals, citing Sharia compliance, resource allocation, or ideological alignment. This process has led to the systematic removal of educational materials that promote critical thinking or analytical reasoning. Even seemingly innocuous resources—textbooks or visual aids—are banned if they diverge from the approved doctrinal narrative.

Faculty governance has undergone an equally significant transformation. The criteria for appointment, promotion, and retention now prioritize ideological loyalty over academic merit. Thousands of graduates from Taliban-aligned madrasa networks have been expedited into university teaching roles, displacing experienced academics whose expertise or independence may conflict with official doctrine. Promotion evaluations that once considered peer-reviewed publications or innovative teaching methods are now focused on adherence to the Taliban’s cultural and religious agenda. As a result, the academic labor market has been reshaped to prioritize ideological conformity over disciplinary rigor.

Gender discrimination is now codified rather than simply practiced. In addition to the nationwide ban on female students, the ministry has instructed institutions to eliminate mixed-gender instructional settings, re-segregate dormitories where they still exist, and revise educational materials to reflect what the Taliban deem “appropriate roles” for women in Afghan society. These directives are part of a broader shift in higher education from a developmental force envisioned under the Republic to a tool for ideological reinforcement.

The overall impact is the transformation of Afghan universities from constrained yet authentic centers of scholarship into administrative branches of the state’s ideological apparatus. Every curricular change, research proposal, or faculty appointment is directed back to a centralized authority: the Minister of Higher Education, acting as the custodian of the Supreme Leader’s vision. Proposals that do not align with that vision may remain unresolved indefinitely or be swiftly rejected. As a result, there is a growing exodus of experienced scholars, further deteriorating an already fragile research infrastructure and diminishing prospects for intellectual diversity.

Afghanistan’s higher education landscape thus exemplifies how an authoritarian regime can reshape academic governance to secure ideological dominance. By consolidating multi-layered decision-making structures into a single, vertically oriented command chain, the Taliban have eradicated the remnants of institutional autonomy that once allowed universities to foster critical and creative inquiry. What remains is a system designed to produce conformity rather than knowledge, obedience rather than discovery, and doctrinal reinforcement rather than scholarly discourse.

The Future Outlook

The Taliban's potential direction in higher education, particularly in academic governance, should be analyzed through the lens of totalitarian theory. Hannah Arendt differentiates totalitarianism from mere cultural conservatism by highlighting its pursuit of comprehensive control: the systematic eradication of individual spontaneity and freedom in favor of unwavering allegiance to a broader ideological vision. Juan Linz expands on this framework by noting that education in totalitarian regimes must reflect and promote the ruling ideology, suppressing dissent and fostering habitual conformity. In such systems, the articulation of ideology and the scholarship tied to it are not secondary concerns but essential components of governance.

By these standards, the Taliban aligns disturbingly well with the totalitarian model. Historical evidence and current practices suggest that the movement will continue to use academic governance as a tool for ideological reinforcement. Policies affecting women's rights and civil liberties, already part of their broader societal agenda, are expected to infiltrate university governance through a rigid, top-down approach.

There are no indications of any forthcoming ideological moderation. Taliban leaders have consistently stated that they will not compromise and that their doctrinal influence will continue to grow. This commitment is evident in an increasing number of regulations, notably the Law on the Propagation of Virtue and Prevention of Vice (PVPV), enacted in August 2024. This law codifies the Taliban’s vision for Afghan society, defining the acceptable roles of men and women and outlining punitive measures for violations.

The PVPV enshrines and amplifies a projected "pure" Sharia order, restricting women’s political, civil, and human rights as recognized by international law. It enforces coercive measures; for example, women are prohibited from speaking, singing, or mourning audibly in public, and Article 13 requires them to cover their voices when outside their homes. The ordinance also bans women and girls from traveling or accessing public spaces, including parks and educational institutions, without a male guardian (mahram). Gender segregation in public spaces becomes mandatory (Taliban Ministry of Justice, 2024).

The implementation of this law is overseen by the Ministry for the Propagation of Virtue and Prevention of Vice, supported by thousands of religious police and other governmental bodies. Within higher education institutions, these agents regulate staff appearance, enforce gender segregation, and require the removal of literature deemed incompatible with Taliban ideology. Under these constraints, the Ministry of Higher Education and individual universities must manage academic governance in strict accordance with PVPV regulations.

As a result, Afghanistan has entered a fully realized totalitarian phase, leading to ongoing and escalating limitations on academic freedom and institutional independence. Two key dynamics will shape the future of the sector: first, the subordination of higher education to the Taliban's socio-political goals; and second, the continuous expansion of state oversight to ensure ideological compliance across all higher education institutions, both public and private.

Any remaining space for independent decision-making represents the last vestige of academic freedom; however, this space has become so limited that even the fundamental principles of free inquiry are nearly unattainable. Regulations stemming from the PVPV—and reinforced by additional decrees—permeate every aspect of institutional autonomy, preventing genuine academic self-governance and creating an environment where scholarship is only permissible to the extent that it aligns with the regime's ideological demands.

The Taliban's return in August 2021 has led to a significant reversal of many achievements made during the Republic era, evident in increased control over academic governance, ban toward women's access to higher education, and a reduction in the range of acceptable fields of study—indicating a decline in both the scope and autonomy of Afghanistan's university sector.

The Republic Era

The Republic era in Afghanistan, though formally inaugurated by the democratic constitution and elections of 2004, can be traced back to the collapse of the Taliban regime in late 2001 and extended through successive temporary and transitional administrations until its eventual fall in August 2021. This period, for higher education, represents an unprecedented achievements: the expansion of higher education institutions (HEIs), academic freedom, and the promotion of gender equality transformed a sector long constrained by conflict and ideological closure.

The 2004 Constitution enshrined the principle of equality between men and women in all spheres of public life, including higher education. Subsequent legislation and regulatory frameworks operationalized this commitment by guaranteeing equal learning opportunities across genders — a direct reversal of policies under the previous Taliban regime. As a result, student enrollment and faculty composition exhibited historic growth, with total enrollments rising from few thousands in 2001 to more than one hundred thousands in 2010. The proliferation of both public and private higher education institutions, particularly in provincial centers and selected districts, enhanced geographic access and, in many instances, affordability.

Despite this progress, there were systematic challenges rooted in corruption, malfunction beaucracy and political interferences that restricted the effectivenss of access and academic governance in HEIs.

The Size of HEIs

Historically, the scale of Afghanistan’s higher-education system has mirrored the state’s vision for its role in society. In the mid-twentieth century, only one publicly funded university existed for the entire country, and reserved for a narrow elite: total enrollment rose modestly from 456 students in 1950 to 1,694 by 1960, demonstrating that higher education functioned more as a symbol of accommodating the government beauracracy than as a vehicle for widespread social and economic developments. Although the late 1960s and 1970s witnessed a gradual acceleration—student numbers increasing from 1,694 in 1960 to over 7,800 by 1970 and 16,147 by 1977—the pace remained restrained. Women, who comprised approximately half the population, continued to constitute no more than 10–12 percent of enrollments throughout this period (Samadi, 2001)

During the 1980s, under Soviet influence, access broadened further: total enrollment climbed from roughly 18,000 in 1980 to 24,333 by 1990 with continued gender imbalance. This expansion was accompanied by the establishment of new regional universities—Balkh University in 1986, Herat University in 1988, and Kandahar University in 1991—thereby diversifying geographic access.

The first half of the 1990s marked the decline of the HE size, and drop down the enrollments to around 8,000, and at second half, and during the Taliban, to around 6,000 with the women's complete ban from universities.

The size of the HE in the 20th century is characterized by oscillation—elite elitism in the start, developmental expansion in 60 and 70s, ideological commandeering, and gendered exclusion in the 80s and 90s—reveals Afghan higher education as a political instrument more than an autonomous academic sphere. The persistent gender gap, sudden policy reversals under successive regimes, and the uneven geographic diffusion of institutions all point to a system whose resilience is constantly tested by shifting power dynamics.

In the decade following the Taliban’s collapse, Afghanistan’s higher education sector experienced significant growth, which initially appears to indicate a successful recovery from conflict. In 2001, there were only seven public universities with fewer than 7,000 students enrolled. However, by 2003, the number had increased to 30,000, with one-sixth being female. Enrollment continued to rise, reaching 75,000 (including 10,000 women) by 2008 and surpassing 100,000 by 2010. By 2012, over 180,000 students were engaged in tertiary education, and this figure soared to 367,000 by 2016. Privately operated HEIs, which were nonexistent in 2001, accounted for approximately 165,000 of the total enrollments in 2016, while public campuses expanded from seven to more than twenty-five, and private providers emerged in every province and reached to more than a hundred.

The private higher education saw remarkable growth, increasing from fewer than twenty institutions in 2009 to over 125 by 2015. In response to quality and financial stability concerns, the Department of Private Higher Education Institutes (DPHEI) implemented stricter registration requirements in 2013, necessitating clear evidence of financial health and academic viability (Ibrahimi, 2014; Afghanistan’s PHE Law, n.d.). A corresponding Gender Strategy highlighted the MoHE’s commitment to women's inclusion; however, despite these focused efforts, female enrollment remained below twenty percent, indicating the limitations of policy measures without broader structural reforms (Ibrahimi, 2014).

Moreover, equality remained a critical concern. Although women's enrollment increased from nearly zero to about 20 percent, this still fell short of achieving demographic equity and broader representation of women in academia and governance. The issue of equality was evident in a different form in private higher education institutions (PHEIs), where only those who could afford tuition and related expenses were able to enroll. This ultimately limited many individuals' access to education.

In summary, the post-2001 surge in Afghan higher education marks a significant shift from decades of repression, yet it is characterized by uneven inclusion, varying quality, and reliance on external support. Future research should therefore explore not only the sector’s growth and reach but also the institutional resilience and equity of opportunity that support its rapid expansion.

Academic Governance During Republic

The tension between governmental control through standardization and accountability programs and institutional autonomy has characterized Afghanistan's academic governance over the past two decades. Central to this tension is the enduring belief that higher education constitutes a public good and thus falls under governmental purview, either directly through public institutions or indirectly through private higher education institutions (PHEIs). This perspective is deeply rooted in Afghanistan's historical experiences, Ministry of Higher Education (MoHE) precedents, and highly centralized political traditions.

Such government orientation established a governance framework that oscillates between regulated autonomy and direct control. The Republic era (2001–2021) predominantly featured government-regulated autonomy, whereas the Taliban’s current regime reflects a heavily controlled governance modality. Historically, this contrast aligns the Republic period with governance styles observed in the 1960s and 1970s and positions the Taliban's era parallel to the centralized control dominant in the 1980s and 1990s.

Since the early 20th century, various Afghan regimes have consistently emphasized the alignment of universities with state objectives rather than to market or people's demands. Nonetheless, the extent of MoHE authority has varied significantly with fluctuating degrees of institutional autonomy, influenced by shifts between centralized standardization and decentralized innovation.

The Republic era witnessed two distinct phases in academic governance, shaped profoundly by these competing demands of control and autonomy.

The 2000s:

In the aftermath of the Taliban’s fall (2002–2010), MoHE, in collaboration with international organizations, prioritized rebuilding the fragmented higher education system. This era focused extensively on reconstructing administrative and policy frameworks to regain governmental oversight. By early 2002, MoHE had reasserted control through elections for chancellors at public universities, reclaiming critical functions such as faculty appointments, degree conferrals, and the administration of the national admissions examination (Kankor), realigning with traditional governance practices articulated in Afghanistan’s 1931 and 1948 constitutions (Babury & Hayward, 2014; MoHE, 2009c; Samady, 2001).

Concurrently, the 2004 Constitution’s Article 43 formally allowed private investment in higher education, leading to the establishment of significant institutions such as the American University of Afghanistan and Kardan Institute by 2006 (Ibrahimi, 2014). To manage this burgeoning private sector, MoHE introduced provisional regulations in 2006, formalized by Cabinet approval in 2007. Although these regulations lacked explicit legal grounding in the 1989 higher education law, they revealed the government's cautious approach toward market-driven expansion, mandating a 20 percent female enrollment quota to begin addressing gender disparities (Afghanistan’s PHE Law, n.d.; Ibrahimi, 2014).

Despite these advances, the absence of a comprehensive higher education law perpetuated uncertainties and contradictions between proclaimed autonomy and the regulatory dominance of MoHE, which retained considerable authority over critical academic decisions such as faculty hiring, curriculum design, and program establishment.

The 2010s:

By the early 2010s, MoHE shifted from ad hoc reconstruction to more systematic reforms characterized by increased regulatory oversight. The National Higher Education Strategic Plan (NHESP I, 2010–2014) articulated clear goals around expanding access, improving quality, and promoting equity (MoHE, 2009c; Babury & Hayward, 2014). Under this framework, Quality Assurance and Accreditation emerged prominently, with the establishment of the Quality Enhancement and Accreditation Department in 2011, followed by formal accreditation processes in mid-2012 (Mussawy & Rossman, 2018). Further formalization included the adoption of merit-based hiring and promotion policies in 2009, replacing patronage-based practices, and extensive curriculum reforms adopting international standards and student-centered pedagogies (Hayward, 2015; MoHE, 2012; Abdulbaqi, 2009).

Despite such structured developments, three critical factors limited genuine autonomy. First, weak enforcement mechanisms allowed corruption, nepotism, and inconsistent regulatory application to persist, undermining meritocratic policies (Hayward, 2015). Second, inadequate resources and human capital, highlighted by only 5.2 percent of faculty holding doctoral degrees as of 2008 and outdated infrastructure, restricted efforts to enhance academic quality (Roof, 2015; Babury & Hayward, 2014). Third, political and ideological pressures from religious and factional networks continued to significantly influence institutional decisions, effectively limiting autonomy despite strategic declarations promoting higher education’s independence and economic role (Couch, 2018; MoHE, 2009c).

Both the 2000s and 2010s maintained the tension between centralized regulation and institutional autonomy, complicated by persistent corruption, resource limitations, and MoHE's historical tendency towards centralization. Although early privatization initiatives emerged in the 2000s, the following decade saw systematic strategies aiming for quality control but repeatedly compromised by institutional shortcomings and political interference, ultimately consolidating governmental control (Report, 2018).

Public dissatisfaction with institutional performance prompted further MoHE expansion in regulatory frameworks, emphasizing state-centric governance and adopting stringent oversight mechanisms. These top-down reforms, aimed at enhancing compliance and academic standards, inevitably exacerbated tensions between autonomy and accountability.

In conclusion, the Republic era embodied a contested governance space, wherein competing visions of institutional autonomy and centralized regulatory control continuously interacted. Understanding this dialectic provides essential context for analyzing the enduring challenges facing Afghanistan's higher education sector following the regime shift in 2021.

The Legal and Policy Framework of Academic Governance

Throughout recent decades, Afghanistan's higher education governance has predominantly operated under a centralized model wherein the state exercised a legal monopoly over universities. Historically, under successive political regimes, higher education institutions (HEIs) served dual—and often contradictory—objectives: promoting national development and facilitating ideological indoctrination.

The turn of the twenty-first century marked a notable shift from state-centric governance toward a market-oriented approach inspired by international experiences, particularly from the United States. This approach emphasized institutional autonomy, reduced bureaucratic regulation, and introduced frameworks for effective accountability. Consequently, between 2001 and 2021, governance in Afghan higher education continually oscillated between the competing paradigms of autonomy and accountability.

The 2004 Constitution was pivotal in restructuring higher education, explicitly mandating the state to establish and manage HEIs while promoting "effective" and "balanced" educational programs. Significantly, it introduced higher education as a constitutional right, obliging the government to ensure equitable educational access irrespective of gender. Moreover, the constitutional framework opened the sector to private investment for the first time, creating opportunities for institutional diversification (Hayward, 2015; Ibrahimi, 2014; Ministry of Higher Education, 2009; Spink, 2005).

However, despite clear constitutional directives, ambiguity persisted regarding governance responsibilities, reflected in the delayed enactment of a dedicated Law on Higher Education. The resulting legal vacuum was filled with executive regulations rather than statutory clarity, creating tensions between the traditional, highly centralized governance model established in 1977 and newer, autonomy-oriented reforms. These contradictions culminated in a fragmented regulatory environment characterized by unclear institutional responsibilities, inconsistent legal standards, and entrenched bureaucratic practices.

In the initial post-2001 decade, reformers sought to embed greater autonomy into Afghan higher education, emphasizing market-driven principles and liberal governance frameworks borrowed from Western educational models. Private higher education institutions (PHEIs), operating without historical constraints, rapidly established independent governance structures, distinctive curricula, and flexible faculty hiring practices, epitomized by institutions like the American University of Afghanistan. Public universities, however, largely remained tethered to the Ministry of Higher Education’s (MoHE) historically centralized governance approach.

By the early 2010s, the initial optimism surrounding deregulation had diminished, as concerns over academic quality and accountability emerged. Responding to these criticisms, the MoHE progressively tightened its regulatory grip, instituting rigorous accreditation criteria, comprehensive quality assurance standards, and extensive supervisory mechanisms over both private and public HEIs. Previously perceived as barriers to institutional growth, regulatory frameworks were increasingly justified as essential tools for maintaining academic integrity and institutional accountability.

This regulatory shift intensified by the mid-2010s, driven by political imperatives to increase oversight, particularly targeting private institutions perceived as having overly permissive governance standards. Consequently, earlier models of shared governance—once celebrated as pathways to institutional innovation and academic freedom—were replaced by a reassertion of state control, compelling private universities to conform closely to public-sector standards and ministerial oversight.

In practice, despite formal declarations of institutional autonomy, governance processes became multilayered and bureaucratically complex. All major institutional decisions, from curricular revisions and program initiation to faculty promotions, were subjected to thorough review and approval processes managed by MoHE committees. These oversight practices effectively limited genuine autonomy, with institutional initiatives frequently delayed or altered based on alignment with national priorities, fiscal feasibility, or regulatory compliance.

Ultimately, Afghanistan's contemporary higher education governance emerged as a hybrid regime, formally promoting shared governance but substantively reinforcing state authority. This structure enabled significant initial sectoral expansion but simultaneously constrained opportunities for sustained innovation, critical scholarship, and responsiveness to evolving educational demands.

Legal

Academic Governance in Afghanistan’s Higher‑Education Institutions during the Republic Era

Prior to the 2015 Law on Higher Education, Afghanistan’s universities operated under a hybrid governance regime that formally dispersed authority yet substantively concentrated decision‑making power in the Ministry of Higher Education (MoHE). Institutional bodies—departmental committees, faculty senates, and university councils—were empowered to craft proposals on curricula, research initiatives, and faculty appointments. These proposals, however, embarked on a sequential journey up the bureaucratic hierarchy. After gaining local endorsement, each initiative proceeded to MoHE review panels, where officials scrutinized alignment with national development priorities, budgetary ceilings, and statutory mandates. Even proposals that survived this appraisal frequently stalled for months, sometimes years, awaiting ministerial ratification. The result was a procedural culture that prized regulatory conformity over strategic autonomy.

Within public institutions, curricular design exemplified this dynamic. Departments might identify an emerging disciplinary niche—say, environmental engineering—draft new syllabi, and secure faculty‑senate approval, only to confront an MoHE insistence on harmonizing the proposed program with centralized workforce‑planning projections. The iterative revisions that ensued often diluted local academic vision in favor of standardized templates. Faculty hiring and promotion followed a parallel pattern. Rector‑appointed committees evaluated dossiers and issued recommendations, yet final appointment letters remained conditional upon MoHE countersignature, effectively rendering institutional judgments advisory rather than decisive.

Private higher‑education institutions (PHEIs), initially celebrated for agility and market responsiveness, gradually experienced similar encroachment. As PHEIs proliferated, public concern over quality assurance and equitable access mounted. In response, the MoHE expanded its regulatory toolkit—accreditation benchmarks, annual performance audits, and compliance inspections—blurring the once‑sharp boundary between public and private governance. By the late Republic period, PHEIs navigated nearly the same multilayered approval channels as their public counterparts, eroding their early comparative advantage in decisional speed and curricular innovation.

Codification and Consolidation: The 2015 Higher Education Law

Enacted after protracted legislative debate, the 2015 Higher Education Law (revised in 2017) codified this multilevel hierarchy rather than rebalancing it. The statute explicitly delineates a cascade of academic authority. Departments stand as the genesis of scholarly initiative, empowered to propose new courses, research agendas, and staffing plans. Faculty‑level Academic Councils provide the first institutional checkpoint, assessing disciplinary coherence, resource requirements, and pedagogical soundness. University senates then integrate these vetted proposals into broader strategic frameworks, allocating budgets and aligning initiatives with institutional missions. Yet each successive approval is provisional until the MoHE’s Supreme Council issues its imprimatur. The Council wields exclusive authority to endorse or veto academic programs, ratify accreditation standards, determine salary scales, and, through an expansive “perform any other duties” clause, intervene in virtually any domain of higher‑education governance.

The Supreme Council’s omnipotence transforms the ostensibly collegial architecture into a tightly coupled command chain. Departments continue to incubate intellectual innovation, but their proposals are refracted through multiple layers of review, each susceptible to shifting political winds or informal patronage networks. Delays become structural: the Council convenes episodically, its agenda crowded with directives extending from national development plans to ad hoc ministerial priorities, leaving departmental ambitions in bureaucratic limbo. Consequently, governance mechanisms designed to balance expertise with oversight often convert into chokepoints that arrest curricular reform and disincentivize interdisciplinary experimentation.

Implications for Institutional Autonomy and Academic Trajectory

The Republic‑era framework sought to reconcile two imperatives: ensuring higher education’s contribution to nation‑building while fostering scholarly excellence through decentralized expertise. In practice, however, centralization prevailed. Universities remained legally obligated to advance state objectives—economic modernization, human‑capital development, and cultural cohesion—yet they possessed limited latitude to tailor programs to regional labor markets or emerging research frontiers. This tension was most visible in attempts to transition from teaching‑focused institutions to research‑intensive universities. Establishing graduate programs or securing external research grants required MoHE sanction at every stage, discouraging faculty from pursuing initiatives that fell outside pre‑defined strategic corridors.

The governance model thus produced a paradox: institutional autonomy existed in statute but not in substance. Departments and councils performed meticulous internal deliberations, yet their decisions could be overturned—or indefinitely suspended—by ministerial fiat. While the system ensured procedural accountability and national‑policy coherence, it also entrenched risk aversion, slowed responsiveness to societal needs, and narrowed the horizon of permissible intellectual inquiry.

Conclusion

Afghanistan’s Republic‑era academic governance crystallized a delicate, ultimately unstable equilibrium between collegial participation and ministerial supremacy. By codifying multilayered oversight without proportional devolution of authority, the 2015 Law institutionalized a decision‑making architecture that privileged bureaucratic control over academic self‑determination. The legacy is instructive: formal mechanisms of shared governance can, under conditions of pervasive ministerial veto, reinforce the very centralization they aim to temper, leaving higher‑education institutions poised more for compliance than for innovation.

This section examines the historical evolution of academic governance through three distinct phases: the initial period of institutional autonomy following the establishment of Kabul University in the 1930s; a subsequent phase of increasing state regulation and eventual centralization from the late 1960s until the end of the Communist regime; and a final period of institutional fragmentation and decline amid political instability, warlordism, and Taliban rule. Together, these phases illustrate the complex relationship between political authority and academic governance, highlighting how educational policy and institutional autonomy were influenced by prevailing ideological and political forces.

Phase 1 (1932–1977): The Emerengece of Higher Education and Institutional Autonomy in Academic Governance

The School of Medicine, Afghanistan's first higher education institution, was established in 1932, followed by the School of Law in 1938 and the School of Science in 1942(Babury & Hayward, 2014; Samady, 2001). These initial faculties operated under a board-of-trustees governance model, which allowed significant autonomy in curriculum development, faculty appointments, and other areas of academic governance. Eventually, these schools merged to form Kabul University, officially chartered as the first public university in 1946 (Samadi, 2001).

The trustee-led governance structure shielded emerging academic institutions from extensive bureaucratic control. Elected senates and presidential councils were empowered to independently set academic priorities and standards. However, the rapid growth of new faculties and academic programs, driven by societal needs and state objectives, prompted changes to this governance model. By the late 1940s, oversight shifted to a more centralized, state-regulated structure. The Minister of Education assumed ultimate governance authority, while decision-making responsibilities were shared among the university president, faculty deans, and an Academic Senate (Samadi, 2001).

At this time, Afghanistan's higher education was primarily focused on developing professional and technical competencies essential for expanding the national bureaucracy and improving public services. This focus aligned with mid-twentieth-century state-building goals, which prioritized the training of skilled administrators, engineers, and medical professionals. In the 1950s and 1960s, successive Five-Year Economic Development Plans recognized the critical role of higher education in modernization and social transformation. Alongside the domestic expansion of university campuses, scholarships were offered for specialized training abroad, creating a dual pathway for professional expertise. Notably, the first National Five-Year Development Plan of 1956 significantly increased investments in establishing new faculties, laboratories, and technical institutes, reinforcing the essential role of higher education in national development policy (Couch, 2018; Hayward, 2015; Samadi, 2001).

In line with mid-century developmental aspirations, subsequent governance under Afghanistan's constitutional monarchy gradually expanded government oversight of higher education. A key reform occurred in 1968 with the introduction of the "Constitutions of Universities," a legal framework that articulated a unified vision for all public tertiary institutions (Samadi, 2001). This framework extended beyond narrow professional and technical training to outline a tripartite mission: advancing scholarly knowledge, enhancing professional skills, and fostering social responsibility among graduates. The Constitutions also required universities to adopt and promote values aligned with national modernization and social reform agendas, reaffirming higher education as a vital instrument for socio-economic transformation (Samadi, 2001).

Despite significant mid-century expansion that broadened both the intellectual scope and institutional size of Afghanistan's higher education, academic governance structures remained firmly rooted in a centralized, state-regulated, shared-governance model. Influenced by European precedents, particularly the centralized systems of France and Germany, this governance approach provided limited institutional autonomy within the confines of ministerial directives (Couch, 2018). Leadership roles, including university presidents, deans, and Academic Senate members, were typically filled by individuals whose political alignment with state priorities was ensured. Ultimate oversight was held by a Board of Trustees chaired by the Minister of Education, while daily academic administration was managed by the University Academic Senate, nominally overseen by the university rector. Recommendations from the Senate regarding program initiation, research priorities, and faculty hiring required formal Board approval, ensuring that institutional activities aligned with national development and socio-economic objectives (Babury & Hayward, 2014; Roof, 2015; Samadi, 2001).

In 1977, under President Mohammad Daoud Khan's administration, a significant restructuring of governance occurred, sharply reducing institutional autonomy (Couch, 2018; Hayward, 2015; Ahmadi, 2022). Following the establishment of the Ministry of Higher Education (MoHE) in 1972, the regime created a Higher Education Council operating under the Council of Ministers. This body gained exclusive authority over university accreditation, approval of academic programs, budget allocations, and faculty appointments. As a result, university senates and presidential councils were relegated to advisory roles, with their recommendations needing final validation by the Council (Samady, 2001; Hayward, 2015; Ahmadi, 2022).

The Saur Revolution in April 1978 further solidified this centralized approach. The Higher Education Council was formally integrated into an expanded MoHE, centralizing all decisions related to campus planning, curriculum design, staffing policies, and infrastructure development. While earlier decades maintained a balance between state oversight and institutional self-governance, the post-1977 period established a strictly hierarchical governance system characterized by top-down control and a centralized focus on national development objectives over institutional autonomy. This highly centralized model continues to significantly shape Afghanistan's higher education governance framework today (Couch, 2018; Samady, 2001)

Phase 2: Centralization, State Control and Indoctronation(1978–1991)

The year 1978 marked a significant turning point for Afghanistan’s higher education system. In April, the People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan (PDPA) staged a coup against President Mohammad Daoud Khan, replacing the existing authoritarian Republic with a Marxist-Leninist regime (Couch, 2018; Hayward, 2015; Samady, 2001; Spink, 2005). Just eighteen months later, in December 1979, Soviet forces invaded Afghanistan, supporting the PDPA regime with the strategic goal of instilling communist ideology into Afghan society, using higher education institutions (HEIs) as key tools for ideological dissemination (Couch, 2018; Fayez, 2012; Hayward, 2015; Samady, 2001; Spink, 2005).

The Soviet invasion sparked widespread opposition from the Afghan population, quickly escalating into armed resistance. This initiated a decade-long conflict between the Soviet-backed communist regime in Kabul and Afghan resistance groups, including local jihadi factions and thousands of radical Islamists from over fifty countries, supported by external allies (Braithwaite, 2012; Couch, 2018; Hayward, 2015; Karp, 1986; Samady, 2001; Spink, 2005).

Under the PDPA administration, public higher education institutions expanded significantly, coinciding with major changes in academic governance. With guidance from Soviet advisors, the Ministry of Higher Education (MoHE) transformed HEIs into strictly state-controlled entities. This restructuring diminished the institutional autonomy previously enjoyed before the 1978 coup, replacing it with stringent ideological oversight enforced by a one-party system. Rectors, deans, and academic staff were required to implement directives from the Revolutionary Council and the Council of Ministers, consolidating ultimate authority within the PDPA’s Supreme Leader (Kabul Times, 1980; Samady, 2001; Spink, 2005).

Central to the PDPA’s socio-cultural agenda was the concept of the “New Man”—an ideal citizen indoctrinated with communist values and committed to revolutionary principles. Universities became primary venues for promoting this model. The state-controlled Kabul Times frequently reported on seminars at Kabul University, highlighting themes like "Defence of Values" and "Defence of National Honour." These events encouraged loyalty to the literary and intellectual ideals of the PDPA’s "Great Leader," resembling Soviet-style personality cults. Students and faculty were recognized for displaying "patriotic sentiments" and for their willingness to prioritize revolutionary goals over personal interests, effectively redefining academic activity as revolutionary participation. As a result, academic freedom significantly declined, relegating rectors and deans to primarily administrative roles focused on implementing political mandates rather than fostering independent scholarship (Couch, 2018, 254; Hayward, 2015,Samadi, 2001; Kabul News, 1981).

Simultaneously, Afghan refugee camps in Pakistan saw the rise of alternative educational institutions, some evolving into private higher education providers. These entities aimed to prepare Afghan youth for active involvement in jihadi efforts against Soviet occupation. Ideological radicalization, heavily influenced by global Islamist radicals, became the foundation of these institutions. Although opposed to the PDPA’s state-controlled universities, these institutions similarly subordinated academic governance to doctrinal imperatives—this time Islamist rather than communist—thus continuing the trend of higher education serving primarily as a means of political indoctrination rather than a space for critical inquiry or scholarly independence (Samadi, 2001; Kabul Times, 1981-1985).

The escalation of the Soviet-Afghan war throughout the 1980s severely destabilized Afghanistan’s educational infrastructure. University campuses in frontline provinces suffered extensive physical damage, and the exodus of faculty and administrative personnel led to a significant decline in institutional effectiveness. By the late 1980s, public universities primarily operated within government-held urban areas, their academic rigor greatly compromised by the cumulative effects of warfare and ideological control (Samadi, 2001;Kamgar, 1998).

After the Soviet withdrawal in February 1989, President Mohammad Najibullah implemented a series of modest reforms aimed at easing Marxist-Leninist ideological control, briefly allowing for limited institutional discretion. However, years of centralized indoctrination and extensive wartime destruction severely constrained any meaningful restoration of pre-1978 academic standards. The subsequent collapse of central governance in 1992, along with ongoing civil unrest, hindered any possibility for significant institutional recovery (Kamgar, 1998).

In summary, the period from 1978 to 1991 established a distinct model of state-centered academic governance in Afghanistan, characterized primarily by ideological conformity and political loyalty at the expense of scholarly autonomy. Both the Soviet-supported regime and its Islamist counterparts utilized universities as tools for ideological indoctrination, leaving a lasting legacy of centralized control and significantly impaired intellectual freedom.

Phase 3: Fragmentation, Civil War and Contiuned Indoctronation (1992–2001)

The period following the Soviet withdrawal in 1989 marked a significant political upheaval in Afghanistan. President Mohammad Najibullah, who led from 1987 to 1992, had maintained a close alliance with the Soviet Union, relying heavily on military, political, and economic support. However, the collapse of the Soviet Union and the withdrawal of troops in early 1989 severely weakened his regime (Hiro, 2012).

With Najibullah’s government collapsing in April 1992 due to internal dissent and external pressures, Afghanistan fractured into competing mujahideen factions. These Islamist resistance groups, initially united against the Soviet occupation, included at least seven major formations by 1992. Each faction was led by prominent commanders representing various ethnic, ideological, and regional interests (Hiro, 2012).

In April 1992, the mujahideen factions nominally formed the Islamic State of Afghanistan under President Burhanuddin Rabbani. However, intense rivalries over power-sharing quickly escalated into a destructive civil war that lasted from 1992 to 1996, severely damaging the country’s infrastructure and governance (Hiro, 2012).

Amid this prolonged instability, the Taliban—a religious fundamentalist movement founded by Mullah Muhammad Omar in Kandahar in late 1994—emerged as a significant force. Promising to restore security through strict enforcement of Shari’a law, the Taliban captured Kandahar by November 1994 and took Kabul on September 27, 1996. They declared the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan, which lasted until their removal by a U.S.-led coalition and the Northern Alliance in November 2001, following the September 11 attack (Hiro, 2012).

During the initial civil war period (1992–1996), Afghanistan’s higher education institutions experienced severe degradation due to ongoing armed conflict and factional governance. Academic governance was not constructively decentralized; instead, institutions fell under fragmented and coercive control by various factional leaders and local military commanders. Each institution was subject to the political and ideological dictates of the dominant local faction, leading to inconsistent and ideologically driven practices. Institutional autonomy and academic freedom were systematically suppressed across all factions, despite their ideological diversity. Infrastructure, particularly at Kabul University, suffered extensive damage from rocket attacks, looting, and targeted violence, resulting in widespread destruction of facilities, laboratories, and libraries. Additionally, the academic workforce significantly declined as qualified faculty members fled due to persecution, imprisonment, and violence (Hiro, 2012; Andishmand, 2010).

Under the subsequent Taliban regime (1996–2001), ideological control intensified, shifting from fragmented factional oversight to centralized religious indoctrination. Taliban authorities imposed strict restrictions on permissible academic subjects, adhering closely to a narrow interpretation of Islamic doctrine. Academic freedom was effectively eliminated, with curricula designed to ensure religious conformity. One of the most severe and discriminatory measures was the systematic exclusion of women from secondary and higher education, initiated in 1995 and fully enforced after their capture of Kabul. Before these restrictions, women constituted approximately 40% of higher education students, about 70% of teaching personnel in some faculties, and nearly 40% of medical professionals (Hiro, 2012; Andishmand, 2010).

Both the civil war period and the Taliban era were characterized by severe infrastructural destruction, significant loss of qualified faculty, and suppression of academic autonomy. However, a key difference lies in the fragmented ideological control during the civil war compared to the centralized and systematic religious indoctrination under the Taliban. Non-governmental organizations (NGOs) played an important role in providing basic education during both periods; however, their efforts lacked coordination, resulting in inconsistent and locally varied curricula (Hiro, 2012; Andishmand, 2010).

Ultimately, the period from 1992 to 2001 represented a significant regression in Afghanistan's higher education sector, marked by ideological extremism, extensive infrastructural damage, systemic gender discrimination, and a profound erosion of institutional autonomy. The repercussions of this tumultuous era greatly hindered Afghanistan's subsequent educational rehabilitation and institutional reconstruction efforts.

The trajectory of HE shifted dramatically during the 1980s following the Soviet invasion. Expansion during this period was largely driven by ideological motivations, as higher education institutions became instruments for propagating communist ideologies under the Soviet-backed regime. The Soviet withdrawal and subsequent collapse of the communist regime ushered in the 1990s, a decade marked by prolonged civil war and instability. Higher education suffered significantly, with institutions falling under the control of various warlords and suffering severe damage from ongoing conflict.

The dawn of the 21st century heralded a significant turning point. The monopoly of public HEIs ended with the introduction of private higher education institutions (PHEIs). This period witnessed unprecedented growth in both the number of HEIs and student enrollments. Academic governance underwent substantial reform, transitioning towards a model characterized by state regulation. Private institutions were granted considerably greater autonomy compared to their public counterparts. Nonetheless, this era was not without significant challenges and setbacks.

These advancements were notably disrupted by the Taliban's return to power in mid-August 2021. Their regime swiftly reversed critical developments, most prominently gender equality in higher education by banning women's access to universities. Academic governance shifted from state-regulated to a highly centralized, state-controlled model, reducing autonomy for both public and private institutions. These changes have profound implications for scholarly inquiries into issues such as gender equity, access, and educational quality.

Despite the critical importance of academic governance in Afghanistan's higher education system, this topic has received limited scholarly attention, leaving a significant gap in understanding its historical evolution and contemporary dynamics.

This chapter addresses this gap by providing the analysis specifically dedicated to the academic governance of Afghan HEIs. It is structured into two primary sections: historical and contemporary. The historical background offers essential context, elucidating how past institutional arrangements and political ideologies have shaped present academic governance. Understanding the historical interplay between higher education as either a tool for indoctrination or a catalyst for socioeconomic development sets a solid foundation for examining contemporary issues.

In the contemporary analysis, the chapter focuses first on the academic governance developments during the two-decade-long Republic era (2002–2021), characterized by evolving governance structures and increasing institutional differentiation. This section then examines the dramatic governance shifts under the Taliban's renewed rule from 2021 onward, highlighting the regression and centralization of authority.

The final section addresses critical questions about the future trajectory of academic governance in Afghanistan, considering current political realities and governance frameworks.

Given its scope, this chapter cannot exhaustively cover all relevant dimensions of academic governance but aims to stimulate scholarly dialogue and encourage further research on this under-examined yet vital topic. The author anticipates that this initial exploration will inspire subsequent research and critical discussions, thereby enriching scholarly understanding of academic governance in authoritarian and conflict-affected contexts.

The significance of this chapter extends beyond scholars interested exclusively in Afghanistan. It provides a valuable comparative perspective for researchers examining similar contexts marked by conflict, authoritarianism, diminished democracy, and restricted academic freedom. Afghanistan offers a uniquely instructive case study due to its substantial international support and rapid advancements in higher education, followed by rapid regression following the Taliban's resurgence.

Furthermore, this study contributes to broader global discussions on rising authoritarianism, declining democratic institutions, and threats to freedom of thought and expression. Afghanistan’s experience can thus serve as an important reference for understanding and responding to parallel challenges emerging elsewhere. Ultimately, this chapter aspires to initiate a rigorous, systematic inquiry into the critical and timely issue of academic governance in higher education.