Taliban takeover: two years on
Millions of refugees in limbo and daily life in Afghanistan forever changed as diplomatic chaos reigns
August 15, 2021 was a day of superlatives – the end of the longest war in American history, and the start of the world’s largest humanitarian crisis.
After nonstop fighting to retake power in Afghanistan since being ousted by a US invasion in 2001, the Taliban militant group finally succeeded. The Taliban didn’t march into Kabul that day so much as it sauntered, in a daze, bemused by the lack of resistance from the republic government, and the swiftness with which that government was abandoned by its international allies. But its victory, the coming months would show, was not so neat.
The fall of the Afghan republic has left a trail of mess and devastation that Afghans and the international community alike are still trying to sort through today. Although the end of the war has brought calm of the kind the country has not witnessed in more than 40 years, Afghanistan’s takeover by a sanctioned terrorist group suddenly froze the country out of much of the global economy, shrinking GDP by nearly a third and costing 700,000 jobs almost overnight.
The economic crisis, along with the prospect of having to live under the yoke of a group millions of Afghans grew up fearing, resulted in the exodus of hundreds of thousands of the country’s citizens, adding to a global Afghan refugee population that was already in the millions. The Taliban’s sudden establishment of a theocratic autocracy based on its fundamentalist ideology saw the rapid erosion of constitutional rights and the exclusion of women and girls from public life. And the international community, thoroughly shocked, has been reluctant to engage with Afghanistan, even through the provision of humanitarian aid.
The result is a country cast adrift, its 40 million citizens at home navigating life in a pariah state, as its eight million citizens overseas form one of the world’s largest refugee communities.
To mark two years since the Taliban's takeover, The National spoke to Afghan and foreign residents in Afghanistan, Afghan refugees and diaspora communities overseas, aid workers, experts and diplomats from both the collapsed republic and the new administration. They tell a story of a nation still trying to grapple with competing identities and a harsh new reality, and waiting for the rest of the world to engage with it.
Life under the new regime
Sulaiman Hakemy
“If we fill our stomachs, we won’t have enough for clothes to wear,” says Ajmal, a taxi driver in Afghanistan’s capital, Kabul. “And if we clothe ourselves, our stomachs will stay empty.”
For millions of people living in Afghanistan, the past two years have been their first experience of life without war, and levels of crime and corruption are way down. But the sense of relief is dampened severely by the increasingly draconian restrictions that have been placed on half the population – the female half – and one of the most intense economic crises seen in modern history.
A small increase this month in the price of petrol, now at $0.82 per litre, has put Ajmal at a breaking point. Before Afghanistan’s republican government collapsed, in August 2021, his daily wages were about seven times higher. Now, he tells The National, on a good day he takes home less than $2.50. It is a fraction of what his seven-person household needs to make ends meet.
Two years on from the Taliban militant group’s takeover of Afghanistan and its declaration of an “Islamic Emirate”, the country remains in a state of uneasy limbo, its economy choked by a combination of brain drain and the pariah status of Afghanistan’s new government in the eyes of the international community.
According to the UN, the country’s GDP per capita contracted by nearly a third after the Taliban takeover and 700,000 jobs were lost. Although the Taliban’s self-reported public revenue figures suggest there has been a modest recovery from the initial shock, Afghanistan has settled into what the World Bank has called “a fragile low-level equilibrium”.
International aid has dwindled. Last year, Ajmal’s family received assistance from the UN, but this year it’s unavailable and no one has told him why.
“I don’t know if the office was closed by the government or if there is some other reason, but I can’t get any help for now,” he said.
The World Food Programme, a UN agency, provided assistance to more than half of Afghanistan’s population, WFP’s Kabul-based spokesman Philippe Kropf told The National. “We cannot do that any more because we are running out of money,” Mr Kropf said.
“This year, WFP was already forced to cut rations in half and removed eight million people from its critical food assistance [programmes] entirely,” he said.
The programme needs $111 million in new funding to prepare supplies ahead of the winter, according to Mr Kropf, and $1 billion to cover its activities for the next six months. Without the money, the programme may have cease all operations in Afghanistan by the end of October.
Donors are growing weary of the Taliban government’s failure to live up to earlier promises to improve human rights, experts say, and Mr Kropf points out that the government’s restrictions on women – which includes a prohibition on them working for international agencies – has also made aid delivery much harder.
The National spoke to several residents of Kabul on the eve of the two-year anniversary of the Taliban’s takeover. All of them expressed frustration with the extent to which women have been shut out of public life.
For Hawa, a part-time seamstress in the Darul Aman neighbourhood of the capital, restrictions on work have worsened the effects of lower demand for her services. She does some sewing work from her home to supplement the income brought in by her husband, a shopkeeper, but Hawa’s customers cannot afford to pay her what they used to. Her husband’s shop is also struggling.
The decline in their incomes has limited what the couple can do for their two young daughters, who have mostly been confined to their home for the past two years. Within months of taking power, the Taliban closed schools for girls above Grade 6, giving only vague promises that they will reopen at an unspecified later date.
Even if Hawa could work outside of her home, there would be no one to look after her daughters. “They are preoccupied day and night by the question of whether school will reopen, and they ask about it every day,” she said.
A critical part of getting Afghanistan’s economy back on its feet, Hawa says, is for the Islamic Emirate “to allow men and women alike to find work, and to open up the schools again”.
The closure of girls’ schools, charities say, has caused rates of depression among young girls in Afghanistan to soar. Ayat, who was in Grade 7 when her school was closed by authorities, told The National that she cannot shake the feeling she is “falling behind”.
“I have just been sitting at home,” she said. “Sometimes I read a book, but I’m just bored. I’ve been feeling very depressed,” said Ayat.
Ayat’s father, who works at a private university, sent her for a time to an informal religious school near their home that taught Quranic studies, but she got through the curriculum very quickly and soon found herself back at home.
Among those interviewed by The National, there was universal agreement that Kabul’s day-to-day security has improved drastically under Taliban rule, owing, residents said, to the new government’s moves against the drug trade, a crackdown on bribery and harsh penalties against petty crime.
For Ajmal, the taxi driver, the difference between life under the Taliban and the republic, in this respect, could not be starker. Unduly high traffic fines used to be a common form of everyday corruption. Traffic cops were “fat” under the republic, Ajmal jokes, but “nowadays they wouldn’t dare over-fine you”.
Mohammed Shafiq, who runs a shop selling construction equipment in the capital’s Pulsukhta neighbourhood, is also pleased with the level of safety on the streets.
“There was a lot of theft [under the republic] in the local streets and alleyways, partly from drug addicts” he said. “It still happens occasionally, but nothing like before.”
Mr Shafiq said the extortion and racketeering that once plagued the area’s shopkeepers has stopped, too. Under the republic, it was common for men posing as tax collectors or other government officials to shake down local businesses.
“The government officials who come to collect taxes now treat us very well. They don’t ask for any extra money,” he said.
Nonetheless, a common complaint among Kabul’s business community is that, while the new government may be less corrupt than its predecessor, it is often heavy-handed. Two business owners who spoke to The National – one a shopkeeper and the other a spice exporter – spoke of higher taxes and new administrative fees introduced without any clear purpose.
“The Ministry of Trade,” said the spice exporter, “now requires traders to deposit 500,000 Afghanis ($5,927) to get a new licence, and nobody knows why.”
For Mr Shafiq, the improved security under the Taliban is welcome, but it doesn’t make up for the economic isolation the country has experienced, and the social isolation the female members of his family have experienced, alongside it.
“In the past, business was good, but there was no security. Now, there is security but no business. There’s not much construction and too many people don’t have jobs so they can’t buy things. Some months, I can’t even pay the shop rent or afford my household expenses.
“And on top of that, my daughters at home are not doing well. They are asking me all day when schools will reopen.”
Additional reporting from Laura O'Callaghan
The diplomatic war
Analysis Sulaiman Hakemy
Two years on from its victory in Afghanistan, the Taliban’s territorial control over the country is near-absolute.
Despite the occasional clash with ISIS or small resistance units, each of the country’s 34 provinces fly the black-and-white flag of the Islamic Emirate. But that doesn’t mean all ground has been conquered. There are more than 60 Afghan diplomatic missions around the world – all of them Afghan soil, and most of them still contested territory. Today, they are part of a PR war being waged between Afghanistan’s new rulers and supporters of the fallen republic.
The majority of Afghanistan’s missions – from South Korea to Canada – exclusively represent a republic that no longer exists. Others, like those in Qatar and Pakistan, were primed to move to Taliban control as soon as the group took power.
And while no country yet formally recognises the Talban’s government, many – particularly those with large Afghan populations or looking to develop economic ties with Afghanistan – have pressured the embassies they host to change hands.
In Russia, Iran, China and Turkmenistan, the embassies operate for the republic in name only. The local governments have accredited Taliban-appointed representatives and shuffled out the old ambassadors. In Uzbekistan, staff reportedly switched allegiances voluntarily. Among Afghanistan’s neighbours, only Tajikistan, whose government has icy relations with the Taliban, continues to host a republican embassy.
The Taliban-controlled Foreign Ministry in Kabul says it has dispatched its own diplomats to 14 missions in total, including ones in Turkey and Kazakhstan, plus countries it has declined to name in the Middle East and Africa.
So, while the ground war at home has been won, the diplomatic war abroad remains – two years on – undecided. The stakes for the Taliban are high: “normalisation” of their new order, recognition on the world stage and the potential easing of sanctions are all up for grabs.
The stakes for Afghanistan’s citizens are high, too. Eight million Afghans live outside of Afghanistan, spread across 103 countries – a majority of them as refugees, but many as migrant workers, new immigrants and dual citizens. For all but the latter category, access to consular services from Afghan diplomats is absolutely vital. Thousands of the Afghans evacuated after the Taliban takeover, for example, faced challenges in their resettlement process, as a result of missing identity documents. This problem can only be solved if the gears of consular services are kept well-oiled.
But even when the Taliban looks to be on the advance, there are reminders of what an uphill battle their government has ahead of it.
The arrival of a Taliban-appointed charge d’affaires (and the ousting of the republican ambassador) in Moscow in April was announced warmly by both countries. Maria Zakharova, a Russian Foreign Ministry spokeswoman, called it “a step towards the resumption of full-fledged diplomatic contacts”.
For Russia, such contacts would be useful for a variety of reasons, but one of the most important is keeping the flow of consular services moving smoothly for Russia’s 100,000-150,000 Afghan residents.
For the Taliban, a warm welcome in Moscow could help counterbalance diplomatic isolation from the West and provide a public demonstration of what recognition of the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan could look like for other nations.
Too much optimism, however, may be unwarranted. In June, Zamir Kabulov, Russia’s special envoy for Afghanistan, reminded the Islamic Emirate that Moscow has yet to recognise its government, and that the appointment of a fully-fledged ambassador could not take place until “the Taliban fulfil their initial pledge to establish an inclusive government”.
The call for an “inclusive government” is a common precondition cited by global powers in discussions of allowing the Taliban to come in from the cold. But such discussions have made little headway, and some allege it is because the international community’s demands are too vague.
“Governments from Beijing to Washington say the erstwhile militants should form an inclusive government – but they have not defined ‘inclusive’,” Graeme Smith, an Afghanistan analyst at International Crisis Group, a think tank, told The National.
Foreign Ministry officials in Kabul often allege that “inclusivity” is merely coded language for allowing top republic-era politicians back into power – a non-starter, in their eyes. As evidence for this, they sometimes point to widespread rumours that Afghan embassies in Europe co-ordinate with the so-called National Resistance Front, a Tajikistan-based anti-Taliban resistance group, under their host countries’ noses.
Several Afghan ambassadors in Europe, along with a few counterparts in Asia and the Americas, have set up a “Council of Ambassadors” to co-ordinate their advocacy activities, but the group has not acknowledged any links with the NRF.
One republican Afghan foreign ministry source based in an embassy in Europe told The National that the Council of Ambassadors has “different opinions on resistance”, but a former senior republican official with knowledge of the resistance movement alleges the NRF is directly involved in raising funds for at least two Europe-based embassies. The National could not verify that claim.
“The Council of Ambassadors is trying to be the voice of the people of Afghanistan and defend their values,” said Manizha Bakhtari, Afghan ambassador to Austria, in an interview with The National. The goal, Ms Bakhtari said, is “to show the world that Taliban values are not our people’s values”.
However, the republic’s diplomatic vestiges are increasingly vulnerable. For many of the republican missions, fees charged for consular services or occasional financial assistance from host countries are the only way to make ends meet. Last year, the Afghan embassy in Washington, the crown jewel of the country’s diplomatic assets, was closed down and its diplomats’ accreditations revoked. It ran out of money and had its bank accounts closed by Citibank, which cited US sanctions against the Taliban.
The embassy in Canada laid off half of its staff, and in Belgium the embassy has had to negotiate payment plans with its utility providers.
The sense of abandonment has been cemented by the fact that western powers have held many rounds of talks, formal and informal, with the Islamic Emirate over the past two years in Oslo, Geneva, Doha, Samarkand and Dubai, bypassing the republican diplomatic corps each time.
Even in Tajikistan, where the Afghan ambassador has been cheered by his Tajik hosts in his resolute allegiance to Amrullah Saleh, a vice president turned resistance leader, there are signs the cause may be short-lived. A diplomat in the Afghan embassy in the capital Dushanbe told The National that the mission’s consulate in Khorog, a town near the Afghan border heavily guarded by Tajik security forces, quietly came under the control of the Taliban this spring. The diplomat requested anonymity, saying the situation is “problematic”. Problematic, indeed.
Battle for the UN
Adla Massoud and Sulaiman Hakemy
In the heart of Midtown Manhattan, the once vibrant Afghan Mission to the UN is drawing its final breaths.
The speed with which his government unravelled following America's withdrawal from their country in 2021 left Naseer Ahmad Faiq, the Afghan permanent representative to the UN, stunned and dismayed.
Today, with neither funds nor authority at his disposal, the 41-year-old envoy strives to find purpose, seeking new ways to continue his mission despite his government no longer being in power.
In an interview with The National in New York, Mr Faiq said he never imagined that the then president, Ashraf Ghani, would “flee” and “abandon” his country and fellow citizens.
“Ghani chose his self-interest rather than the national interest,” he said.
Mr Ghani should have accepted the interim government proposition put forth by Washington during talks in Doha in 2021, Mr Faiq said.
Unfortunately, the former president insisted on completing his tenure at any cost, he said.
“He could have been a peace champion."
In his January 2022 speech to the UN Security Council, Mr Faiq called on member states to freeze and confiscate all Afghan assets “illegally transferred to the accounts of former government officials, who were involved in corruption and embezzlement of international aid to the Afghan people.
“It is unfair that 28 million people are starving, and mothers sell their children to survive, but these corrupt former government officials live in luxurious houses and villas in different countries in Europe and the US,” he said during the speech.
He also urged the formation of an inclusive and accountable government, so Afghanistan can move forward.
Following his scathing remarks, Mr Faiq says he received a call from one of the top Taliban leaders asking him to represent them at the UN.
He declined.
As one of the few remaining representatives of the former Islamic Republic of Afghanistan on the global stage, he feels his efforts to salvage a democratic future for his country have become a solemn endeavour.
He has been advocating for global backing of diverse Afghan perspectives to stand against the Taliban.
When asked if he felt as though there was any kind of international support for a democratic movement, he responded with a succinct, “No”.
“There are different Afghan groups outside and inside Afghanistan. They are fighting against the Taliban ideology and the way they are governed, and they are not happy with this situation,” he said.
“That's why the Taliban are so emboldened because they see there’s no alternative … there’s no appetite from the international community, there’s no political will … to remove the Taliban from power.”
Despite promising to form an inclusive government, the Taliban monopolised power, imposed extreme restrictions on women's rights and personal freedoms and, according to Mr Faiq, paved the way for the threat of terrorism in the region to grow.
“In one or two years, we will see that there will be more threats emanating from Afghanistan," he said, referring to the terrorist groups that are still thought to be operating across the country.
With the country currently under the control of a single group, the absence of conflict does not necessarily equate to safety, he said.
“It's the calm before the storm."
In face of these challenges, Mr Faiq said he remains resolute in his determination to fight for his country's freedom. At his spacious Manhattan office, surrounded by chairs left vacant by long-departed diplomats, he remains steadfast, motivated by his people and country.
More than 10,000km away in Doha, is the Taliban-appointed Permanent Representative of Afghanistan to the UN, Suhail Shaheen.
A month after the Taliban seized power, Mr Shaheen was nominated to represent the country on the global stage. Two years on, the diplomat remains without his credentials.
The UN rejected his appointment to the post, refusing to recognise any part of the Taliban government to hold on to what Secretary General Antonio Guterres said was the “only leverage” other countries have to press for an inclusive government that respects civil rights, particularly of women, in Afghanistan.
In January, when The National spoke to Mr Shaheen in Qatar, he insisted the restrictions on girls and women in education were only temporary and would lift once the Taliban could ensure genders are not mixed in schools, and curriculums do not contradict their interpretation of Islam.
The diplomat blamed the slow development in the area on a lack of experience and international support.
“[The Taliban] were fighting more than 54 countries for 20 years. We were good at that but running the government is a new experience for us,” he said.
“In addition to that, we do not have the budget, we do not have the capacity," he said, referring to Afghanistan's brain drain.
When it comes to representing Afghanistan on an international stage, he said “political motives” were preventing the Taliban from involvement in global politics.
“Afghanistan is an old member of the United Nations ... the membership for the state of Afghanistan should be given to Afghanistan’s de facto government because we have control all over the country,” he said.
“We [the Taliban] have the capital, we have the support of the people, we are able to defend our country. Those who are sitting there, they do not represent the people of Afghanistan. They do not have one district in the whole Afghanistan, they do not have the right on that. A country should not be deprived of its rights because of political motives and political goals.”
Additional reporting by Thomas Harding
'No future': legal limbo for refugees
Anjana Sankar, Laura O'Callaghan, Tim Stickings
When Nasrin Nawa boarded her flight out of Kabul on August 13, 2021, the capital had not yet fallen to the Taliban – but it was clear that it was only matter of time.
The 29-year-old BBC journalist was travelling to the US after being awarded a Fulbright scholarship to pursue a masters degree in media and communication. But just 48 hours after taking off, Kabul International Airport descended into chaos as Afghans raced to flee the country.
As Ms Nawa settled into her new life in the US, she was plagued by a sense of guilt for the millions of Afghan girls and women left behind under restrictive Taliban rule.
"It feels like a bad dream. I know I am safe, but thousands of girls in my country are not. That guilt haunts me," she told The National over the phone from Nebraska, where she has found temporary work with a media company.
Her family were among the hundreds of thousands of Afghans to flee the country in the immediate aftermath of the Taliban takeover. Like most who escaped, their family was splintered across different countries.
Ms Nawa’s 27-year-old sister Elham Karimi, who also worked as a journalist for the BBC in Afghanistan, joined her in the US on August 23 after being airlifted from Kabul by American forces. Ms Karimi currently lives in Washington DC.
But when it came time for her parents to be airlifted out of Kabul, in September 2021, they ended up almost 8,000km away from their daughters, in Abu Dhabi.
Nesar Karimi, 62, and his wife Ayesha Bahrami, 46 were assigned accommodation at Emirates Humanitarian City in the UAE capital, along with thousands of other Afghan evacuees, as part of an agreement between the UAE and the US government. They remained there for almost two years.
“We did not know what their fate would be. They finally managed to get asylum in Canada two months ago.”
The couple were granted permanent residence but finding affordable accommodation in Toronto has been difficult.
“They have to vacate the hotel they are staying in soon and we are trying to support them,” said Ms Karimi.
“They live so close by to the US but we are unable to meet them as we do not have travel documents. And it is almost impossible for Afghans to get a visa to Canada.”
Both sisters are also facing their own uncertainties.
Ms Karimi’s asylum request to the US, that was put in more than a year ago, has not moved forward.
“It generally takes 160 days. But in my case, it has been more than 400 days and no one is telling me anything.
“I am on a parole visa and I have got a temporary work permit. But I don’t know what my future will be here.”
Ms Nawa, whose temporary work authorisation will expire next February, is in a similar situation.
“I do not know what to do after that. I feel stuck,” she said.
Their legal and bureaucratic dilemma is one being experienced by millions of Afghans, who fled their home country and are now dispersed across the world.
For Mohammad Reza Parsa, escape from Kabul to Pakistan, where the UN estimates more than 1.4 million Afghan refugees now live, marked the beginning of a different kind of ordeal.
The 35-year-old journalist said he is in constant fear that he and his family, whose visit visas have expired, will be arrested and deported. The family has applied for asylum but their request has been pending for months.
"I lost everything in the blink of an eye. I do not even know what the future of my kids will be. Sometimes, I feel so helpless that I sit and cry at night," said Mr Parsa.
He and his wife, Shekiba Sarwari, have two daughters and a son, all under the age of 10.
Their decision to leave Afghanistan was a difficult one but, while in Kabul, Mr Parsa had been targeted by the Taliban for being a journalist.
"They searched my house twice when I was in hiding,” he said. “A Taliban intelligence letter was leaked on social media that indicated that I am on their wanted list.”
To leave the country, he had to quickly procure passports for his family.
“I paid $400 for each family member to secure a visa in the black market," Mr Parsa said.
Without a job or proper accommodation in Pakistan, he struggled to support his family.
"I couldn't find a job. I even did hard labour but my employer didn't pay me. Even now, stress and anxiety are taking a toll on us."
A glimmer of hope arrived for the family when Mr Parsa secured the Media in Co-operation and Transition Fellowship for Critical Voices, which provides support and a monthly stipend to journalists in crisis regions. He said it is helping him pay for basic needs and his children's education.
However, the family's situation in Pakistan remains precarious, with their medical visas also expiring over a year ago.
"Only I have a valid visa. I don't have money to extend my family's visas and we have accrued more than $2,400 in fines alone," Mr Parsa said.
For months, authorities in Pakistan have been arresting Afghan refugees they say do not have valid documents, prompting rights groups to urge for leniency.
Mr Parsa’s family fear they may be next and are hoping for asylum in Germany.
"My case has been sent to Germany through Kabul Luftbrucke, a civilian aid programme assisting Afghan refugees. I still have not received any positive response, and it has been a long and difficult wait," he said, echoing the struggles and uncertainty faced by many Afghan refugees stuck in foreign countries.
However, some Afghans have managed to successfully settle abroad, though many remain separated from their families.
Afghan twins, who spent a year apart after being separated in evacuation efforts from Kabul in 2021, are now thriving in their new life in Britain and making bold plans for their futures.
Irfanullah and Obaidullah Jabarkhyl, 11, were separated from their family in the crowds at Kabul International Airport, following the deadly bombing on August 26, 2021, claimed by terror group IS-K, an offshoot of ISIS.
The pair found themselves on separate flights, which meant Obaidullah spent a year in France while Irfanullah resided in the UK.
After being reunited in London in September last year, the boys have been living with relatives in the capital and making every effort to embrace British culture and settle in.
Both are keen footballers, looking up to Cristiano Ronaldo, and have been busy improving their techniques on the pitch as well as polishing their English skills at school.
“I like England and liked visiting London Bridge,” Irfanullah said. “I liked the big clock because it was so big,” he added, referring to Big Ben. “My favourite subject is science and I would like to become an engineer when I grow up so I can make cars and planes.”
His brother harbours similar career ambitions.
“When I’m going to school I’m very happy,” Obaidullah chimed in. “When I finish school, I want to become an engineer so that I can build big buildings.”
Looking back on their “really upsetting” year apart, the boys say they are grateful to be able to live together now and are happy to be surrounded by family members and a supportive community.
Qamar Jabarkhyl, 28, who is a cousin of the children, oversees their development and integration. He moved to the UK as a child and now lives with his wife and children in London, where he works as an engineer.
He said it has been heart-warming to watch his cousins' progress.
“I want them to first learn English, to understand the culture, for them to adjust to the UK,” he said. “There were difficulties in the beginning but slowly I think they’re adjusting to the UK.”
The boys are putting their best foot forward in all areas and throwing themselves into their new lives, in what seems like a million miles away from the Taliban.
But the absences of their mother, father and siblings hangs over them like a dark cloud.
Their father has been missing since late 2021 and relatives are working to establish his whereabouts.
Bringing the twins’ mother to the UK is a priority, Mr Jabarkhyl said.
“I’m trying to reunite them with their mum,” he said, highlighting the poor living conditions for women in Taliban-run Afghanistan. “I really want them to be united because they’re very young and being away from their parents for a long time is not going to be very good.”
The UK Home Office has given them all appointments to have their biometrics taken and undergo medical tests before the end of August. Then begins the likely long wait for an outcome from the Home Office on whether they will be given UK visas.
Campaigners have called on British Prime Minister Rishi Sunak’s government to speed up visas for family members of people brought to the UK under Operation Pitting. The British military operation included the evacuation of 15,000 Afghans from Kabul after the Taliban takeover.
Many of them rushed on to RAF planes believing their loved ones were following closely behind, only to find out they had become lost in the crowds. Two years on, thousands of adults and minors remain apart from their families while trying to get on with their new lives in the UK.
Hashmatullah Aman, 44, is one of thousands of Afghans evacuated from Kabul to the UK in August 2021 without his family members.
He was separated from his wife and four children in the chaos at Kabul International Airport during Operation Pitting.
The former police officer has spent the past two years living in a hotel in Watford, Hertfordshire, southern England, without any indication about when his wife and children may be allowed to join him in the UK.
Though Mr Aman is immensely grateful to the British government for saving his life, he appealed to Mr Sunak to issue his family with visas so they can reunite with their breadwinner.
Though a Home Office civil servant visits him weekly, he has not received any indication from the government as to when a reunion may be possible, which is eating away at him day by day.
“I want to bring them to the UK but what can I do? I just don’t know when it will happen,” he said, adding that he has not been asked to submit any documents on his family.
While his seven-year-old daughter misses her father the most, her everyday life has continued in relative normality since the Taliban returned to power. She is allowed to go to school each day and mix with friends. However, her 13-year-old sister has been banned from entering a classroom under the regime’s punitive measures for females.
While girls in Afghanistan are currently allowed to school up to Grade 6 – until about 12, reports suggest some as young as 10 have been banned from education in some provinces by local Taliban leaders.
Mr Aman envisions his family starting afresh in the UK with a bright future for his children, especially his girls, whose prospects remain limited in Taliban-run territory.
Looking to the future, he has plans to study to be an electrician and find employment in the UK to support his family.
Mr Aman appealed to Britons who have empty houses to offer them to refugees. This gesture, he said, would be a major boost for people trying to get on their feet in a foreign land.
“I like England. There are very good people here,” he said. “I request that people please give some properties for us, as we are living in hotels.”
There are more than 2.6 million registered Afghan refugees around the world, making them one of the largest global refugee populations. Some 2.2 million of these alone are in neighbouring Iran and Pakistan.
The UNHCR, the UN refugee agency, said in June that it hoped to focus on the resettlement of refugees in 2024.
In Afghanistan, the Taliban’s education bans for women and girls are “a deal breaker” for displaced Afghans considering whether to return home, the UN’s top refugee official in Kabul told The National.
Leonard Zulu, who represents the UNHCR in Afghanistan, said girls had “tears in their eyes” as they weighed up whether to go home or continue their schooling.
Girls are banned from secondary schools and universities under the Taliban’s strict interpretation of Islamic law. The UN’s plans to build 39 mixed-sex schools to help entice people back to Afghanistan have been held up by the ban.
Mr Zulu said UN workers had helped 15,000 refugees to return from abroad, mainly from Pakistan and Iran, and that another 200,000 people had expressed interest in returning to Afghanistan.
But the share of the millions of Afghan refugees returning home is still below where the UN would like it to be, and “primarily I think it’s because of the human rights situation of women and girls”, Mr Zulu said.
“That’s a deal breaker when somebody wants to come home,” he said.
“If you see the girls that are in year five or year six, you see their anxiety, the tears in their eyes, when they are saying ‘No, I would like to continue with my education’.
“That makes mum and dad hesitate about making that final journey back home, even if they know that in their area the conflict has stopped and they can rebuild their lives. It’s a big ask, to ask families to come back home and have important members of their family have their hopes and dreams dashed suddenly.”
The Taliban’s rules also scuppered a German-funded programme to offer scholarships to female students whose education was interrupted by a stay in Pakistan or Iran.
UN staff have built “empowerment centres” where women can run shops on the ground floor and leave their children in an upstairs kindergarten, Mr Zulu said. There is also health care and language training available.
However, human rights violations are holding the country back and making it impossible for Afghanistan to get international aid beyond its immediate emergency needs, Mr Zulu said.
“Poverty alleviation work cannot be done by humanitarian assistance. You need development assistance to do that, and that’s not on the table at the moment because of the human rights challenges that we have,” he said.
“The rights of women and girls are systematically being eroded. That’s not helping. So we have to have an improvement on the human rights side.”
What next?
Sulaiman Hakemy
No one knows exactly what to expect from Afghanistan or the international community in the coming months.
It is conceivable that the world may see the third anniversary of the Taliban's takeover pass next year without any change in the status quo.
The Taliban have proved themselves so far to be utterly unyielding in their view of women, for example, and the international community has made clear that its disgust with the Taliban's oppression of women colours its opinions in every other area of potential engagement.
Every so often, press releases land on reporters' desks stating that western and Taliban officials have met in some capital somewhere, but readouts of the talks are almost always vague and euphemistic. The negotiating table separating the two sides seems to be getting longer every month.
But an important lesson from the Taliban's takeover of Afghanistan is that in such a complicated, troubled country, change can come in rapid, extreme and unexpected ways.
Expectations today are so low that it could take, for example, just one decree from the group's supreme leader to reopen girls' schools to re-energise dialogue between the Taliban and the West, donor assistance to aid agencies and hope among Afghans.
Is such a simple decision too much to ask for? Only the innermost sanctum of the Taliban's opaque leadership structures know for sure.
In the meantime, the crisis continues.
Afghans visit a market ahead of Eid Al Adha in Kabul, in June 2023. EPA
Afghans visit a market ahead of Eid Al Adha in Kabul, in June 2023. EPA
Afghans line up for rations provided by the World Food Programme in Kabul. Photo: WFP
Afghans line up for rations provided by the World Food Programme in Kabul. Photo: WFP
A Taliban security patrol in Kabul, in July 2023. EPA
A Taliban security patrol in Kabul, in July 2023. EPA
Afghans hoping for visas gather outside the US embassy in India's capital New Delhi, August 19, 2021. Reuters
Afghans hoping for visas gather outside the US embassy in India's capital New Delhi, August 19, 2021. Reuters
Afghan refugees living in makeshift tents on the outskirts of Quetta, in south-west Pakistan, on September 6, 2021. AFP
Afghan refugees living in makeshift tents on the outskirts of Quetta, in south-west Pakistan, on September 6, 2021. AFP
Recently-arrived refugees from Afghanistan at a temporary camp at the US Army's Rhine Ordnance Barracks, where they are being temporarily housed, on August 30, 2021, in Germany. Getty
Recently-arrived refugees from Afghanistan at a temporary camp at the US Army's Rhine Ordnance Barracks, where they are being temporarily housed, on August 30, 2021, in Germany. Getty
US Marines and Norwegian coalition help Afghans leave Kabul on August 20, 2021. Getty
US Marines and Norwegian coalition help Afghans leave Kabul on August 20, 2021. Getty
Coalition forces help a child during the evacuation from Kabul International Airport, on August 20, 2021. Reuters
Coalition forces help a child during the evacuation from Kabul International Airport, on August 20, 2021. Reuters