Afghanistan has for a long time been synonymous with danger, conflict, and ambiguity. It was the country governments that cautioned citizens against visiting a couple of decades ago, the country linked to tales of bombings, kidnappings, and political unrest. But now, with the Taliban’s return, Afghanistan has begun a new chapter—a chapter of paradox that defies outside perception.
The hottest paradox is the sense of security that permeates so much of the nation today, at least for men and visiting foreigners. Thirty years of war have ended with the Taliban in power. The whole country is controlled by one government for the first time since the late 1970s. Kabul and the other cities are said to be safer than anyone can remember, crime having diminished appreciably, and Taliban roadblocks having Taliban soldiers. Even at night, streets that had been ever-present threats are said to be peaceful and normal.
But this stability comes with a steep price, especially for Afghan women. The return of Taliban governance has revived the blanket restrictions of the 1990s. Girls are banned from secondary and tertiary education, many women are barred from employment, and there are legal dress codes. People who do not have a male minder are particularly under threat, often unable to move about or even venture out of their districts. Although implementation is patchy geographically, fear and insecurity dominate daily life.
Yet for foreigners as well, Afghanistan has turned into a surprise holiday destination. Lured by the promise of raw, unedited experiences, more and more tourists and adventurers are streaming into the country. Where a few hundred of the brave or foolhardy used to go, now hundreds of thousands each year follow. Facebook and Instagram are filled with videos of blue lakes, bustling bazaars, and even selfies in front of Taliban fighters. The Taliban, in desperation for foreign exchange, have welcomed this new but small tourism industry, granting visas and travel permits to foreigners. Others report extraordinary hospitality.
Pashtun society places enormous emphasis on honoring guests, and most travelers are treated with warmth not just by regular Afghans but even by Taliban fighters. Guests report officials as warm, inquiring, and eager to discuss their families. For most of the fighters, joining the Taliban is less of a radical summons than a job that promises wages in a country where work is thin on the ground. But beneath the politeness, critics detect a Taliban campaign to restore their reputation and entice badly needed funds. Descriptions from young adventure-seekers best capture the paradoxes.
They write of simple and uncomplicated visa procedures, dealings with Taliban officials, and wide-eyed interest from locals in the guise of questions about the outside world. But whereas travelers may be greeted and even welcomed with hospitality, Afghan nationals adhere to much harsher standards.
Taliban rule, under Emir Haibatullah Akhundzada, is governed by exacting decrees with little room for concession. Complaints have been made by some of the movement’s more veteran leaders—most particularly about the education of women—but internal solidarity and loyalty to the emir remain untrammeled. The presence in Afghanistan is hard but never defeated.
Poverty dominates throughout the country, with children in the streets of towns begging and families living from hand to mouth. But Western books are still sitting on bookshop shelves, gyms are listening to world music, and young Afghans are eager to go online. Even within the Taliban, the younger generations are receptive to the cultural tides of the internet. No matter how tightly the regime clamps down on rules, outside forces still filter through, lighting up hopes and horizons for the future. Tourism has its own ethical dilemma.
There are two arguments, one of which is that tourists introduce money into a nation cut off from much of the rest of the world system. The second is that there are individuals who insist that tourist numbers like these risk legitimizing the Taliban regime and minimizing the suffering of millions, especially women. For the detractors, each tourist photo risks erasing what gender or apartheid. Others claim that tourism can bridge gaps, foster understanding, and give Afghans a cherished glimpse of the outside world—if approached intelligently.
Afghanistan’s destiny with the Taliban is uncertain. The government has brought order and an end to decades of civil war, but its strict policies isolate the nation and keep it in a state of permanent poverty. Young Afghans want to leave more and more, becoming expert foreigners in languages and visa applicants. The Taliban rule from the countryside may prevail now, but it is confronted by the inevitable forces of social transformation, technology, and global connectivity.
To the world outside, Afghanistan is a land of contrasts: a land where repression and security exist in tandem, adversity and hospitality mingle together, and tradition and modernity are locked in battle on every corner. To truly get to know it requires more than a look at the landscape and a meeting with its people; it requires wrestling with the contradictions of existing in the shadow of the Taliban.
