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 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.

Not all political transitions result in the same level of curricular or structural change. The extent of reform is influenced by the type of regime and the stakeholders involved. In established democracies, for example, a change in the ruling party rarely affects fundamental educational guarantees. Core principles—such as universal access and a commitment to quality education that fosters critical thinking instead of ideological conformity—tend to persist. This continuity reflects the democratic principle that policy goals should be determined by citizens and enacted through their elected representatives.

In contrast, in authoritarian or totalitarian regimes, the public—the primary stakeholders in any education system—often lacks a voice in policymaking. Educational agendas are designed to further the ideology and goals of those in power. While systems may differ in specifics, they generally share one principle: the formal acknowledgment of a right to education. However, even this commitment can be undermined in extreme cases. Afghanistan’s recent shift from gender-inclusive education to the systematic exclusion of girls starkly illustrates how education can be used as a means of discrimination rather than empowerment.

Despite these differences, there has been a growing global consensus on educational goals. International frameworks, particularly Sustainable Development Goal 4, outline shared objectives: ensuring inclusive and equitable quality education, promoting lifelong learning opportunities for all, fostering skills development, and integrating education for sustainable development. SDG 4 calls on both democratic and authoritarian states to align their national policies, curricula, and classroom practices with these universal standards.

This new era of global educational policymaking transcends political systems. Countries with vastly different governance structures now agree on broad priorities such as non-discrimination and universal access. Therefore, Afghanistan’s recent policy reversal is not only a domestic setback but also a violation of an international consensus centered on the empowering potential of education. By emphasizing the interconnectedness of education, politics, and the economy, SDG 4 reminds us that genuine development relies on policies that empower learners, irrespective of who holds power.

Since the mid-1990s, the rise of the Taliban, many members of the Taliban have consistently regarded schools and universities as sources of sin, dismissing modern curricula as incompatible with their interpretation of Islam. Teachers who oppose this viewpoint face the risk of losing their jobs or, in more severe instances, prosecution under vaguely defined “insult” and “blasphemy” laws. The ambiguity of these laws permits local Taliban leaders to interpret dissent as sacrilege at their discretion.

This environment of fear has sent a strong message to educators and the community: don't argue about issues that contradict their religion version or their interpretation of it, as it blocks nearly all topics. Many are now reluctant to express opinions that differ from the Taliban’s rigid ideology—whether advocating for girls’ education, supporting secular subjects, or simply questioning the religious instruction. In this climate, any criticism of the regime’s educational policies could lead to harsh consequences, similar to those faced by Khamosh.

Since taking control, the Taliban have justified their ban on female education beyond grade six by citing cultural and religious reasons, claiming that education past the primary level goes against Afghan traditions and Islamic principles. However, these claims are based on unfounded assumptions, as no theological documents, scholarly opinions, or culturally grounded analyses have been provided to support their stance.

Over the past four years, the Taliban have effectively stifled public discourse on this issue, reportedly warning media, government officials, and citizens against criticizing the ban under threat of detention or worse. Even figures within the regime, such as Deputy Foreign Minister Abbas Stanikzia, have faced exile for opposing the ban on girls’ education. This suppression of dissent is characteristic of totalitarian regimes, which often disguise political motives with religious rhetoric to avoid substantial challenge.

To counter the regime’s cultural argument, we can refer to two decades of systematic, nationally representative survey data collected by international organizations in Afghanistan. Between 2005 and 2021, annual surveys with strong sample sizes and rigorous methodologies reveal two consistent trends: widespread support for gender-equitable access to education and nuanced variations in opinions across different ethnic groups.

Firstly, approximately 85 percent of respondents (±5 percent standard deviation) supported equal educational opportunities for boys and girls through the highest grade levels. This consensus spans regional, provincial, and linguistic divides, with communities including Pashtun, Tajik, and Hazara affirming the principle of gender parity in education. Secondly, when analyzing responses by ethnicity, it becomes clear that no group showed significant opposition to girls’ education.

A longitudinal analysis of the 2005–2021 data, which posed identical questions each year, further illustrates the stability of public support. There is no evidence of large-scale protests against girls’ education over the past two decades; rather, communities have actively protected schools, with female enrollment rising dramatically—from nearly zero in 2001 to over one million by 2003, and surpassing four million in subsequent years.

In areas where girls' schools were absent during the Republic era, this gap was not due to public apathy or cultural resistance, but rather the direct consequences of Taliban mandates in their controlled regions and, in some cases, pervasive corruption within local education systems.

In summary, the empirical evidence strongly contradicts the Taliban’s claims. Afghan public opinion—firmly advocating for gender-equal education—should not be viewed merely as a background factor but as a crucial consideration for policymakers. Any efforts to restrict girls' education under the guise of cultural or religious authenticity lack both evidentiary support and democratic legitimacy.

While this ideological justification appears to constitute the primary basis for their discriminatory practices, two additional contextual factors—historical and political—must also be considered.

The origins of the Taliban’s discriminatory educational policy are closely linked to the colonial dynamics of the nineteenth century. While Afghanistan was never fully colonized, it served as a strategic buffer between British India and Tsarist Russia, particularly during the two Anglo-Afghan wars (1839–1842; 1878–1880). This era brought varying degrees of external influence to Afghan society, leading the Afghan people to develop social and political forms of resistance. Following conflicts with British India, anti-colonial ulema—many of whom were exiled from British territories—established themselves in Afghan seminaries and formed lasting alliances with local clerical authorities. United by the belief that Western-style education was a tool of cultural domination, these scholars rejected secular curricula and instead promoted a model of instruction focused solely on religious doctrine.

Politically, the origins of their stance lie in the aftermath of the 13th-century Mughal invasion, which entrenched a rigid form of religious education resistant to modernization. This created an educational monopoly for religious authorities, who accrued substantial societal influence and financial resources as a result. Consequently, the introduction of modern educational systems posed a direct threat to this entrenched status quo, prompting significant concern among the religious orthodoxy.

How did these arguments translate into actionable educational policy?

Historical context is essential for understanding this transition. Within the religious community, many actively supported the anti-modernist stance, while others remained silent or expressed opposition. Concurrently, influential tribal and ethnic leaders, social elites, and ruling authorities had vested interests in preserving existing social and political orders, thus exhibiting caution or outright resistance towards educational reforms.

King Amanullah Khan's ambitious educational reforms encountered substantial resistance, eventually leading to their collapse. This historical episode profoundly influenced subsequent educational policy, highlighting the enduring impact of religious radicalism.

The Soviet invasion of Afghanistan further transformed the political landscape for religious groups. Previously marginal in policymaking, religious factions emerged as central actors during the anti-Soviet resistance, significantly enhancing their political influence. The influx of global religious radicals intensified this dynamic, further bolstering the political aspirations of these factions.

Consequently, the narratives crafted by the Mujahideen during the Soviet occupation, shaped by both internal and external factors, laid the groundwork for the Taliban's radical opposition to modern education.

During their initial governance period (1996-2001), the Taliban institutionalized their extreme perspective as official state policy, impacting the entire Afghan populace under their jurisdiction. Although they did not formally control national educational policy during their insurgency (2001-2021), they imposed their educational framework in territories under their influence, thereby significantly affecting the Republic's educational efforts. Following their return to power in August 2021, the Taliban reinstated and intensified these discriminatory educational policies.

What constitutes the ideological argument?

The Taliban perceive women's rights and freedoms as inherently threatening to their authority. As an exclusively male-dominated movement, they systematically discriminate against women, a stance consistently reflected in both their narratives and policy implementations. The Taliban assert that men and women possess inherently different roles, responsibilities, and rights, assigning men to public and external duties, while confining women to domestic responsibilities.

Historically, Taliban-affiliated religious orthodoxy has actively disseminated misinformation regarding women's education. The earliest notable campaign occurred in the early 20th century, targeting Queen Soraya, the wife of King Amanullah Khan, whom religious authorities falsely accused of abandoning religious values.

This anti-education rhetoric persisted throughout the 20th century, particularly in marginalized and rural regions where propaganda proved especially effective. Today, mosques, mullahs, and village heads remain primary sources of information in many remote areas. Mullahs, leveraging their religious authority and legitimacy, utilize religious institutions and texts to influence public opinion more effectively than local secular leaders.

Among numerous false narratives propagated in these remote areas, a particularly pervasive theme concerns girls' education. Religious authorities falsely claim that educating girls contradicts religious faith and traditional values, arguing it corrupts moral attitudes and leads families into sin, thus defying divine commandments.

This viewpoint systematically deprives women of essential rights and freedoms, including education, employment, freedom of movement, and public participation. Such rights are depicted not merely as unnecessary but as existential threats to societal stability and religious integrity. According to Taliban doctrine, interactions between men and women outside prescribed contexts foster immoral sentiments and actions, undermining established religious and social standards.

Under totalitarian regimes, educational institutions, in any form, including schools and universities, often undergo significant changes, shifting from previously free to an absolute controlled and oppressive status. This is due to the inherent incompatibility between totalitarian ideology and the principles of free inquiry, critical thinking, and intellectual autonomy. Such regimes typically face two strategic choices: either to reform their political character by allowing scientific inquiry, freedom of thought, and freedom of expression and association, or to restructure educational institutions so they align with and propagate the regime’s ideological narrative.

In the former scenario, educational institutions may serve as catalysts for reform and democratization from within the system, as seen in Afghanistan during the 1960s, when the absolute monarchy transitioned to a constitutional monarchy and permitted greater academic freedom. Conversely, if the regime opts for the latter path—preserving its totalitarian nature—educational institutions are co-opted to reinforce its ideology. In such cases, the foundational principles of education, particularly the pursuit of free thought and truth, are systematically undermined. Freedoms, if granted, are tightly circumscribed within the ideological framework and narrative of glory promoted by the regime.

The contemporary context of Afghanistan under Taliban rule exemplifies this dynamic. Rather than fostering critical inquiry or accommodating diverse intellectual traditions, the Taliban regime has reoriented the education system to reflect its ideological tenets, effectively narrowing the epistemological boundaries within which education operates.

Why is free inquiry fundamentally incompatible with totalitarianism, and how does this tension shape the structure and function of educational institutions under totalitarian regimes?

Totalitarian regimes are constructed on a series of factions, false exaggerations of facts, and conspiracy theories that provide the regime with a set of narratives and a sense of glory—narratives which, of course, cannot withstand scientific scrutiny or free inquiry. In such contexts, there can either be the regime’s dominant narrative or the truth; the coexistence of both is impossible, as one inevitably undermines the other. And in such a confrontation, it is the regime’s fabricated narrative that cannot survive.

The Taliban, again used here as an example, have, since the outset of their regime, attracted tens of thousands of hardened fighters and devoted followers who were willing to die for the cause presented through their constructed narrative. Within this broader framework, one of the most significant elements has been their stance on education. They have built and exaggerated a historical conspiracy theory against modern education, portraying it as the root of all evils and as institutions designed to destroy faith. In contrast, madrassas are framed as divinely sanctioned centers that follow God’s path and are blessed by God. This narrative has been essential from the earliest stages of their regime’s consolidation, as it serves to block any form of inquiry or scientific discussion that might challenge their claims. Such inquiry, inevitably, would expose the fragility and falseness of their assertions.

To what extent can free scientific inquiry coexist with authoritarian rule, particularly in the fields of education and the social sciences?

The answer, particularly in the fields of social sciences and humanities, is largely no. Unlike the natural sciences—which typically operate independently of ideological influence—social sciences are deeply embedded within political, cultural, and ideological contexts. As such, they are far more vulnerable to manipulation and distortion under authoritarian regimes. Among the most impacted disciplines is education, which, due to its inherently interdisciplinary nature, sits at the intersection of ideology, policy, and practice.

Educational policy in such regimes tends to be shaped either by factions or by facts—two forces that are often fundamentally incompatible. Policies grounded in ideological factionalism frequently undermine evidence-based approaches. A single policy cannot simultaneously uphold both a factless fiction and empirical truth. For instance, when an authoritarian regime promotes gender discrimination in education based on conspiracy theories or extreme religious interpretations, it cannot also credibly advocate for the principle of universal education. Similarly, a curriculum built on propaganda and governed by discriminatory religious ideals cannot coexist with the foundational academic values of free inquiry, critical thinking, and open discourse. The former actively obstructs the latter, and any appearance of coexistence merely subordinates scientific inquiry to ideological constraints. Under such conditions, the space for free and high-quality education becomes severely restricted.

A striking example of this tension was recently reported by Hasht-e-Subh, a local Afghan newspaper. According to the report, individuals with no academic qualifications or expertise in higher education have been appointed to revise university curricula, textbooks, and syllabi. These appointees, driven by extreme ideological convictions, are tasked with purging academic materials in fields such as politics, sociology, education, and economics. Their review process focuses not on scholarly merit, but on identifying and removing specific words, sentences, and concepts that challenge their ideological worldview. Even texts that are foundational to scholarly discourse are being censored or removed from university shelves. In their place, religious content—produced by unqualified followers lacking any scholarly or scientific rigor—is being inserted.

This development represents a new standard for higher education under authoritarianism: one in which universities and educational institutions are stripped of the autonomy to determine what to teach and why to teach it. In such an environment, institutions are compelled to conform to the regime's ideological expectations. It is a model of totalitarian control in which the pursuit of knowledge is no longer a noble academic endeavor, but a politicized tool for ideological reproduction.

The distinction between culture and political history of a country should be seen critically, considering whether there is a two-dimensional relationship between the two. Do cultural groups represent the same identity and values as the political one? If representation matters in defining political legitimacy, and if the ethnic group in question constitutes a demographic majority, then logically, the system should be democratic, not authoritarian.

Afghanistan represents a diverse cultural and political history that encompasses all ethnic groups; however, its history is distinct from that of any single ethnic or linguistic group. When we refer to the culture or political system of Afghanistan, it is quite different from discussing the cultural or political identity of a specific ethnic group. Additionally, their political history and system may not align with their tribal or ethnic structures. If there are discrepancies between political and cultural histories, why are they often conflated to support a particular viewpoint, or disregarded when they do not align with an argument? We should approach this issue as a matter of academic discourse rather than political one, examining the facts objectively rather than allowing personal biases to influence our perspective.

In Afghanistan's modern history, totalitarian rulers, both past and present, are often incorrectly viewed as representatives of a specific ethnic group in mainstream discussions. This conflation of political authority with ethnic identity is misleading, as the two can be misaligned or even contradictory. The underlying assumption is overly simplistic: categorizing a ruler or ruling group as part of an ethnic group without any form of representation implies they legitimately represent that group and that their actions reflect the collective will or responsibility of the entire ethnic community. This is a significant error.

Many leaders, whether consciously or unconsciously, have become detached from the cultural, linguistic, and social values of the ethnic groups they are meant to represent. A review of 19th and 20th-century leaders shows that, with a few exceptions, most did not speak the language of the ethnic group they were celebrated for representing. Additionally, they often did not see themselves as true representatives of the group's values and culture. Rather than embodying the community's aspirations, they frequently acted in ways that contradicted its core values, using ethnic identities primarily as instruments for political advantage or self-preservation.

The logic for this simplistic assumption, while emotionally resonant for some, lacks empirical support. It overlooks the structural nature of centralized power in Afghanistan, particularly since the late 19th century when tribal and ethnic considerations were increasingly replaced by an absolutist monarchy rooted in familial dynasties. Rulers did not articulate their legitimacy through ethnic identity, but rather through religious justification and the consolidation of centralized authority. No significant policy or official statement indicates a deliberate self-identification as ethnic representatives.

That said, while rulers may not have explicitly declared an ethnic agenda, their governance practices often suggest otherwise. It is plausible—and necessary—to examine whether discriminatory policies and preferential treatment implicitly benefited certain groups while marginalizing others. This is especially relevant in sectors like education, where access and inclusion are key indicators of equity.

Looking at enrollment data from the inception of modern education in Afghanistan, there is clear and consistent evidence of the marginalization of specific ethnic groups—particularly those often labeled as being aligned with or represented by the totalitarian rulers. In contrast, other groups received disproportionately greater access and institutional support. This pattern holds true across several social service indicators.

Critics may respond by attributing low enrollment or limited access to cultural norms within certain ethnic communities, arguing that these groups did not value education. Yet, such claims are rarely supported by evidence. On the contrary, public opinion surveys conducted between 2006 and 2021 reveal that approximately 85% of Afghans support educational equality for both men and women, with no significant variation across ethnic lines. This suggests a broad societal consensus in favor of equal access to education.

It is crucial to recognize the Taliban as an extremist group characterized by a distinct religious ideology, political structure, and identity, which differentiates it from the diverse cultural and ethnic groups within Afghanistan. The Taliban arose as an extremist movement in response to the devastation of civil war and has since developed in reaction to modernization reflecting the historical tensions between modernists and traditionalists. This religious political movement, which is fundamentally at odds with Afghan society in both its form and scope, is unprecedented in history and contradicts the foundational institutions of Afghan society, such as the Jirgas. These Jirgas traditionally empower decision-making within ethnic and tribal frameworks. Following their return to power in mid-August 2021, the Taliban banned all ethnic councils and tribal Jirgas, substituting them with their own version of religious councils.

It is evident that totalitarian regimes like the Taliban pursue their agendas through extreme measures, operating outside of conventional cultural or political frameworks and instead at the fringes. This necessitates countercultural actions and the dismantling of existing institutions and values, replacing them with new constructs that align with their ideology.

In reality, totalitarian and autocratic regimes in Afghanistan—historically and presently—have manipulated ethnic and racial identities not out of genuine allegiance or concern for those communities, but as instrumental and mutable constructs used to justify power, exclude rivals, and maintain authoritarian control. These regimes have systematically denied services and rights not because of ethnic favoritism in any genuine sense, but to ensure that a politically aware and empowered public—particularly the majority—does not emerge to challenge the regime’s absolute authority. In short, the suppression of rights is not about ethnic representation; it is about preserving power through enforced obedience and manufactured division.

Afghanistan, like many Muslim-majority societies, has a historical practice of religious education that dates back to the medieval era. Mosques and madrassas played a vital role in community life and religious learning, often leaving little room for critical or scientific inquiry. However, tensions arose in the early 20th century with the introduction of modern secular schools. Religious hardliners perceived these institutions as threats to the authenticity and superiority of madrassas, which they argued were the only valid form of education for an Islamic society.

This exclusivist perspective has continued to influence ideological debates and practices, though the intensity has varied across the Muslim world.

Unlike many other Muslim-majority countries—where there exists some degree of coexistence between religious and modern education systems—Afghanistan's trajectory has been marked by sharper opposition. The current conflict between these two educational paradigms is not a new phenomenon. During the Central Asian Islamic Golden Age (8th to 13th centuries), the region that includes present-day Afghanistan embraced intellectual pluralism. Religion coexisted with centers of scientific inquiry. Thinkers such as philosophers, mathematicians, and scientists contributed to a global body of knowledge that would later shape developments far beyond the region.

However, this era of intellectual flourishing declined sharply after the Mongol invasions of the 13th century. Religious orthodoxy gradually replaced intellectual diversity. The country never fully recovered from this intellectual rupture, and the space for critical, scientific, and secular education has since narrowed. Over time, madrassas increasingly became the primary sites of education, reinforcing a rigid, memorization-based pedagogy. This historical trajectory has culminated in the contemporary dominance of religious extremism over education policy, particularly under the Taliban.

Following their return to power in August 2021, the Taliban swiftly re-imposed their ideological framework on the education system. Central to their vision is the supremacy of madrassas, rooted in a narrow and hierarchical interpretation of Islamic knowledge. This model privileges male-oriented schooling, with very limited educational opportunities for girls, restricted primarily to the early primary grades or religious instruction within madrassas. The Taliban’s framework to education rests on three interrelated pillars:

• The Supremacy of Madrassas over Modern Schools: The regime establishes a hierarchical educational framework that prioritizes madrassas over modern schools, both symbolically and structurally. Modern education is viewed as secondary to religious instruction, which they present as the sole legitimate form of knowledge within their envisioned society.

• Ideological Control of Religious Institutions: In Totalitarian and Authoritarian Regimes, Juan J. Linz posits that totalitarian regimes inherently oppose autonomous institutions, particularly organized religion, perceiving them as potential challengers to state ideology. While some regimes aim to completely dismantle religious institutions, others prefer to control and utilize them for their own ends. The Taliban exemplifies this latter approach. Instead of permitting religious institutions to operate independently and encourage free thought, particularly those with historical models that support inquiry, the Taliban has subordinated them to its ideological agenda. Through a centralized control system—encompassing speeches, decrees, and legal frameworks such as the Law on the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice—the regime enforces its strict interpretation of Islam. This ideological domination reflects Linz’s concept of a totalitarian regime striving to permeate and control all aspects of life, leaving no room for religious diversity or independent theological interpretation.

• Deliberate Expansion of Madrassas at the Expense of Modern Schools: The Taliban have rapidly expanded religious education infrastructure, often by reallocating public resources originally intended for modern schools. Enrollment in madrassas has surged, while investment in public schools has declined sharply. This policy has made modern education increasingly inaccessible, especially for girls, who are now formally barred from attending school beyond the primary level. The establishment of new schools has slowed to a level unseen in the past two decades, whereas madrassas have proliferated across the country in unprecedented numbers.

This raises an important question: Why should the subordination of modern schools to madrassas be a cause for concern?

To answer this, we must revisit the foundational purposes of education. While views differ across societies and scholarly traditions, a broadly accepted consensus holds that education should nurture individual potential, foster critical thinking, and equip learners with the knowledge and skills necessary to engage meaningfully in society. This vision is grounded in the principles of intellectual inquiry and human development, not in rote memorization or ideological conformity. Of course, this freedom of thought is not absolute—it is bounded by ethical norms, particularly the imperative not to cause harm—but it fundamentally opposes the coercive imposition of dogma.

The Taliban’s educational framework contradicts this foundational vision. Their model centers on religious indoctrination, suppressing both critical and scientific inquiry. Madrassas under Taliban rule are mandated to conform to state-imposed religious standards, most notably the Law on the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice. This law enforces rigid gender roles: men are assigned external, public-facing roles, while women are confined to domestic spaces. Female autonomy is severely restricted, with even basic mobility contingent on male oversight. Any interaction between men and women outside tightly defined boundaries is prohibited.

This ideological framework has produced significant and measurable changes in Afghanistan’s educational landscape:

First, the number of religious schools has dramatically increased—from approximately 2,000 in 2021 to over 20,000 by 2024. Correspondingly, enrollment has surged from around 200,000 students to more than 2.5 million. Importantly, this expansion has not been supported by new resources; instead, it has occurred through the reallocation of funds and facilities from public schools to madrassas. This has facilitated the recruitment of over 100,000 madrassa instructors and the establishment of administrative structures aligned with Taliban ideology.

Second, girls have been systematically excluded from formal schooling beyond the primary level. The alternative offered to them—religious instruction in madrassas—is not equivalent in content, quality, or educational outcomes.

While traditional madrassas lacked curricular uniformity, the Taliban have imposed top-down control, ensuring compliance with their ideological mandates. The Law on Vice and Virtue serves as both a pedagogical guide and a disciplinary tool.

Third, the Taliban have extended their ideological control to higher education institutions. Radical religious appointees at Kabul University and elsewhere have reportedly begun revising university curricula to eliminate content related to secularism, gender equality, human rights, critical thinking, and scienfitic literature. Content written by non-religious scholars is often viewed with considerable suspicion, and in some instances, it is entirely banned.

These changes represent a significant effort to align all educational forms with the Taliban's interpretation of religion. This ideological control diminishes academic freedom, compromises the quality and inclusivity of education, and greatly restricts Afghanistan’s potential for intellectual and social growth.

In sum, the current Taliban regime has not merely favored religious education—they have strategically weaponized it to suppress dissent, erase pluralism, and reinforce a gendered, authoritarian social order. This transformation poses grave implications not only for the future of education in Afghanistan but also for the broader human rights and development agenda in the region.

This intellectual tradition, particularly prevalent in texts covering the period from the late 19th century to the late 20th century, tends to downplay or ignore the role of domestic agency in shaping Afghanistan’s fate. Instead, it attributes national failures almost exclusively to external forces—such as colonial interference, foreign invasions, or international conspiracies. While such explanations may contain elements of truth, they often function as political tools: justifying the shortcomings of domestic leadership while diverting attention from internal structural weaknesses, policy failures, and resistance to reform.

This one-dimensional blame on foreign actors has produced deeper consequences. It has empowered religious orthodoxy to adopt a counter-narrative that equates modern institutions—particularly secular education—with foreign intrusion. By doing so, it has contributed to a long-standing distrust of scientific knowledge, modern pedagogy, and international cooperation. These intellectual legacies persist today, especially under the Taliban regime, which actively revives and enforces this anti-modernization discourse.

While many countries seek to expand access to global knowledge systems by promoting science, technology, and international exchange, Afghanistan—under Taliban rule—has reversed this trajectory. The regime has aggressively targeted modern education, dismantling internal academic institutions and banning access to foreign curricula. This regression is not accidental; it is a deliberate continuation of an anti-modern ideology that has historically been deeply rooted in Afghan intellectual and political thought, with its current extreme manifestations.

Critically, these outdated views continue to circulate as the dominant—and sometimes only—accessible sources of knowledge, further entrenching Afghanistan’s isolation from global educational and developmental advancements.