Note: More than five years have passed since the Taliban took control of Afghanistan. During this period, hundreds of women have been abducted, arrested and imprisoned by the group. Many were jailed without proof of a crime, following vague accusations or disputes related to family and social matters. What has happened and continues to happen to them behind prison bars is part of the painful experiences of Afghan women under the Taliban’s second rule.
This account draws on the author’s direct observations and personal experiences during her imprisonment in Taliban-run prisons in Kabul. While detained, the author not only witnessed and experienced these conditions firsthand but also heard stories about the lives and experiences of women and girls held alongside her. The following is therefore a firsthand account of some aspects of their living conditions, their treatment and what has taken place behind prison walls.
In the previous account, I wrote about Sara and Ayesha. Sara was a married woman arrested on charges of “moral corruption.” According to her, the accusation was made solely because she had been in a car with her personal driver. Her story raises important questions: What exactly does “moral corruption” mean in the Taliban’s view? What kinds of behavior and actions fall under this label? What punishments do people arrested on such charges typically face, and how long are they imprisoned?
The account of Setayesh, a young woman who was also sent to prison on the same charge, may help answer some of these questions.
Setayesh, 16, had been arrested by the Taliban. In her account, she says that on the day of her arrest, she and her paternal cousin, who was around her age, were on their way to her aunt’s house to attend a family gathering, with her father’s permission. According to Setayesh, Taliban morality police stopped their car along the way.
She says the officers accused both her and her cousin of three offenses: first, “moral corruption”; second, “running away from home,” alleging that her cousin had helped her flee; and third, drug use. She says the officers showed them several tablets and claimed they had found them inside the car, alleging that both teenagers had used drugs. The two were then taken to a security district office.
According to Setayesh, she and her cousin were questioned in separate rooms after their arrival. While she was being interrogated in one room, she could hear her cousin being beaten in the other. She says that although both were under 18, the officers continued questioning them without contacting their families.
Setayesh says the officers asked why she had run away from home with her cousin and committed moral corruption. She replied that the trip had taken place with the knowledge and consent of her parents and urged the officers to contact both families to verify her account.
She also suggested that the officers examine both their mobile phones to establish that their relationship was strictly familial. Setayesh says that even after checking the phones and finding no evidence, the Taliban neither contacted their families nor released them. Regarding the drug-use accusation, she says she asked the officers to conduct blood tests to demonstrate that the allegation was baseless. Nevertheless, both teenagers were transferred to Kabul.
According to Setayesh, her family and her cousin’s family did not know where the two were being held for three days and were unable to find them. Her relatives later told her that both families had gone to the security district office and explained that they had known about and approved the trip. The Taliban, however, paid no attention to their explanation.
After meeting Setayesh, her family learned that her cousin had been subjected to pressure and beatings and that the Taliban had demanded that he confess to having romantic feelings for her and intending to marry her. Setayesh says she was then also pressured to confirm his statements and admit to the charge of moral corruption. According to her, her relatives warned her that refusing to accept the accusation could expose her to more serious consequences and additional charges.
This raises the question of how denying a relationship that, according to Setayesh, had never existed could lead to a prolonged case and more severe consequences for her.
According to Setayesh’s family and several women imprisoned on charges of moral corruption or “illicit relations,” proceedings in such cases can continue for months if one of the accused refuses to admit to the alleged relationship. They say the process may drag on until both parties confess. For this reason, according to their accounts, Setayesh and her cousin agreed to accept the accusation in the hope of bringing the case to an end more quickly.
They were reportedly sentenced to three months in prison. At the end of the proceedings, a Taliban court also issued a document stating that the two were married and obtained a commitment from both families to hold a marriage ceremony for them.
According to Setayesh and her family, however, her release did not bring the case to an end. They say that after the Taliban court issued the marriage document, her cousin used it to pressure her. According to her family, he threatened that Setayesh must live with him as his wife or he would use the document to file a complaint against her.
The family says he demanded money in exchange for dropping these claims. He also warned that if they refused his demands, he could approach the Taliban and allege that Setayesh had fled her husband’s home, an accusation that could lead to her arrest again.
According to her family, they eventually managed, through persistent efforts and by paying expenses, to take the marriage document out of his hands and prevent him from using it further.
Setayesh and several women who had shared a prison cell with her on charges of moral corruption say her experience was not an isolated case. They allege that when the Taliban claimed a relationship existed between a man and a woman but had no evidence to prove it, they pressured both parties to accept the accusation and eventually issued marriage documents for them.
According to these women, such documents sometimes became tools for pressuring, threatening and exploiting women after their release, extending the consequences of the case far beyond their time in prison.
Like Sara’s account, Setayesh’s story is more than an individual experience. It raises questions about how accusations of moral corruption are handled, how legal proceedings are conducted and what happens to people arrested under this charge. Answering these questions requires greater transparency and further investigation.
