Over the past three years, dozens of political meetings and programs have been organized by Afghan citizens in exile, from Berlin and Frankfurt to London, Brussels, and Vienna. The titles are often familiar and hopeful: “National Dialogue,” “The Future of Afghanistan,” “Justice for Women,” and “Political Convergence.” Yet despite similarities in content and slogans, the agendas, speakers, guests, and even political symbols of these events often stand in competition with one another. It is as though each gathering seeks less to shape a shared horizon and more to distinguish and highlight its own narrative, circle, and flag.
Of course, the intensity and form of this situation are not the same everywhere. In Europe, because of the larger concentration of migrants, the longer history of exile politics, and broader opportunities for collective gatherings, Afghan political conferences are more visible. In the United States, however, especially after the U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan, a kind of political fatigue regarding Afghanistan has emerged. Economic pressures on migrants, geographic dispersion, and declining attention from policy institutions have made these gatherings more limited and scattered. It is as though Afghanistan has become a file in part of Washington’s political space marked: “Please do not reopen.”
Still, conferences and political gatherings are not insignificant phenomena. Much of contemporary global politics has taken shape precisely in such spaces, from the Paris Peace Conference and Yalta to Dayton, Camp David, and Bonn. Political history repeatedly shows that political orders are often shaped in negotiation rooms and conferences before they are implemented on the ground.
By “conference politics,” this article refers to a form of political activity in exile in which conferences, panels, statements, and gatherings become the primary tools for producing meaning, displaying representation, and imagining Afghanistan’s political future. At its best, this type of politics can provide a platform for dialogue, coordination, and the formation of a shared roadmap. But in the absence of follow-up, organization, and genuine connection with society, it can devolve into “conference games” and symbolic reproductions of politics.
In Afghanistan’s case, conferences have often been accompanied by public skepticism. Perhaps this is because many of these programs, despite their grand slogans, have failed in practice to produce tangible outcomes or lasting political impact. For a political meeting to become part of a real process, it must generate something beyond speeches and symbolic appearances. It should create political ideas, coordinate forces, build a shared roadmap, and maintain a living connection with society and developments on the ground.
Nevertheless, speaking about Afghanistan at a time when the country’s public space is suffocated by fear and repression still carries value. Anyone who prevents Afghanistan from disappearing entirely from global political memory preserves part of this society’s living memory. The aim of this article is not to dismiss all these efforts, but precisely because these spaces matter, they should be taken seriously.
The central argument here is that a large portion of these programs still cannot be called a “political process.” Many are project-based events that, instead of political organization, strategic production, and sustained engagement with Afghan society, function within competition for visibility, political relevance, and access to resources. Despite constantly producing statements and discourse, organizers have yet to move beyond “conference games” and become a cohesive political force with a shared vision for Afghanistan’s future.
This article mainly focuses on meetings and conferences organized in Western countries, especially Europe and North America, by segments of Afghanistan’s exile society and elite. Therefore, the discussion cannot be generalized to all forms of Afghan political and civic activism.
Conference Games and the Crisis of Political Process
It was expected that Afghan political actors in exile would use the capacity of conferences and conference politics to create a structured and continuous process toward a shared political roadmap for Afghanistan’s future. In practice, however, many of these gatherings have remained short-term projects whose political impact ends with the conclusion of the event, the exhaustion of the budget, and the taking of commemorative photos.
In many cases, we see a repetitive cycle: a conference is held, several speakers deliver remarks, a statement is issued, and then everything falls silent until the next event. Politics itself seems to have entered a subscription model: every few months, a new conference, new slogans, and silence once again. In such a situation, presence and declarations exist, but follow-up, organization, and long-term planning are far less visible.
Germany has become one of the main centers of Afghan political conferences in exile in recent years. In cities like Berlin and Frankfurt, different groups and movements often organize separate programs from one another. Sometimes several conferences with different titles and slogans take place within days of each other, each with its own speakers and political circles. In many cases, the primary competition is not over producing new political ideas or creating sustainable coordination, but over attracting more attendees, inviting more famous figures, selecting more luxurious hotels, and displaying a more successful event.
This situation is not limited to Germany. Looking at London, Brussels, and even the United States, one sees more a collection of scattered gatherings than a coordinated political network. As a result, Afghan exile politics still resembles scattered voices rather than a coherent political project.
Competition for Representation and the Return of Old Faces
One of the deepest crises within exile conferences is the issue of representation. Almost every group claims to represent the people of Afghanistan, yet it is rarely clear where this representation actually comes from. Does the girl in Herat deprived of education today, the unemployed young man in Badakhshan who sees no future for himself, or the youth in Bamiyan facing poverty, political repression, and sectarian discrimination truly feel represented by meetings in London and Berlin? Or are their destinies simply discussed every few months in calm European halls with simultaneous translation and panels on “Afghanistan’s future,” a future they themselves are not even allowed to approach?
At the same time, the constant return of old political figures has deepened the crisis of trust. Many Afghans, both inside and outside the country, see the same individuals once again standing behind podiums, figures associated in the minds of many with corruption, monopoly, inefficiency, and ultimately the collapse of the republic.
The problem is not merely the return of old faces, but the absence of a clear political vision for the future. Being anti-Taliban alone does not generate legitimacy. Afghan society today, especially the younger generation, does not see opposition to the Taliban as sufficient. Instead, people ask: What comes after the Taliban? What kind of political system? What relationship between religion and the state? What solutions exist for ethnic tensions, transitional justice, and centralized power?
The problem is that many conferences remain trapped in the stage of “rejecting the Taliban” rather than producing a shared political imagination for the future. A politics built only on negation eventually resembles a person who has spent years talking about building a house but has not even drawn the blueprint for a single room. Worse still, sometimes the future residents of that house cannot even agree on who should hold the keys, or whether the same people from before will once again manage the house.
Symbols and Ethnicity
One of the most sensitive issues in exile conferences is the visible and invisible presence of ethnic divisions. Publicly, nearly everyone speaks of national unity, tolerance, and coexistence. In practice, however, the composition of speakers, invitation networks, and circles surrounding organizers reveals that ethnicity still remains deeply embedded in exile politics. The same competitions and mistrust that once existed in Kabul and the presidential palace are now sometimes reproduced in Berlin and London, only dressed in more formal clothing and different accents.
The issue of symbols also exposes this crisis more clearly. In many conferences, the former republic’s tricolor flag and national anthem are prominently displayed. For some organizers, these symbols represent resistance against the Taliban. But for others, these symbols no longer carry the same emotional or political legitimacy. The flag, anthem, and even the republic’s constitution do not necessarily symbolize “nationhood” and unity for everyone. For many, they instead recall a political order that, in its final days, resembled a building whose lights were still on but where almost nobody was willing to take responsibility for maintaining it.
Thus, the issue is not simply supporting or opposing a particular flag. The deeper question is whether these spaces can genuinely accommodate different narratives and symbols. Here again, “conference games” reveal themselves. Despite constant talk of unity and a shared future, many conferences still cannot reach even minimal agreement on basic symbolic and identity-related issues. As a result, conferences sometimes become spaces for managing disagreements rather than building a common political project.
Dialogue or the Performance of Dialogue?
Many gatherings carry the name “dialogue,” but it remains unclear how much actual dialogue exists within them. In some programs, the question-and-answer sections either do not exist or are so limited and controlled that they resemble passing through a security checkpoint more than free intellectual participation. Speakers may stand behind podiums discussing freedom of speech, openness to criticism, and democracy, while the structure of the conference itself leaves little room for genuine critique. Democracy, in these moments, feels like an uninvited guest left standing outside the conference hall.
Perhaps this is why many of these gatherings can hardly be called “dialogue” in the true sense. Genuine discourse emerges when people have not only the right to speak but also the ability to criticize, disagree, challenge speakers, and even alter the direction of discussion. Yet many exile conferences more closely resemble the reproduction of already-fixed positions. The conclusions often seem predetermined before the event even begins, while attendees serve mainly to politely affirm decisions that have already been made. Sometimes the word “dialogue” functions more as intellectual decoration than a real space for hearing different perspectives.
This problem is not simply managerial; it directly reflects the crisis of “conference games.” When conferences become performative events and repetitions of familiar positions rather than parts of a living political process, dialogue itself is replaced by the performance of dialogue. In such spaces, the primary goal is no longer generating new political ideas or reaching collective understanding, but managing appearances, preserving status, and reproducing familiar narratives.
Two Afghanistan: One Inside, One in Conferences
One of the most complex crises of Afghan exile politics is its growing distance from everyday life inside Afghanistan. Many conferences are held in the name of the Afghan people, yet it remains unclear how much people inside the country actually see themselves reflected in these spaces. The problem is not merely geography, but lived experience. Life in exile gradually produces different language, priorities, and even political rhythms.
In the West, politics often takes the form of conferences, panels, statements, networking, and advocacy. Inside Afghanistan, politics has become a matter of survival. Someone in Kabul worried about work, safety, or tomorrow’s bread does not necessarily see the world through the same concepts discussed in hours-long panels about “Afghanistan’s future.” The distance is not merely between two places, but between two different ways of living and experiencing reality.
When politics increasingly unfolds in conference halls, there is a risk that organizers gradually begin speaking more to themselves than to Afghan society. Many conferences, despite good intentions, have become spaces where migrant elites convince each other rather than people inside the country. Here, another crisis of political process emerges. Sometimes it feels as though some programs are designed less to engage Afghanistan itself and more to reassure participants that they are still considered “political actors.”
The issue becomes more serious when this distance turns into a crisis of understanding reality itself. If exile politics cannot maintain a living, structured, and genuine relationship with people inside Afghanistan, it will increasingly become a reflection of memories, migrant rivalries, and the concerns of exile communities rather than the real needs of those living inside the country. The greatest danger is that the “real Afghanistan” may gradually be replaced by an “imagined Afghanistan of exile,” a country existing more in memory, nostalgia, and conference panels than in the daily lives of those who remain there.
Women on Panels, Women on the Margins
In many conferences focused on women’s rights and Afghanistan’s future, the issue of women’s presence itself becomes contradictory. Although “women’s rights” is a central theme, women’s participation is often limited or symbolic, as if merely placing several women on a panel automatically signifies equality and genuine inclusion. In such spaces, women are frequently discussed as subjects rather than participating equally in shaping political decisions and visions for the future.
This contradiction becomes more visible when women are mostly included in panels specifically related to “women’s rights,” while broader discussions about security, power structures, economics, diplomacy, and Afghanistan’s political future remain dominated by men. It is as though “real politics” is still defined elsewhere, while women’s role is largely to explain women’s suffering rather than help define the country’s future.
Yet the issue is not only exclusion or symbolic inclusion. Serious divisions, competition, and mistrust also exist among segments of Afghan women activists and elites in exile. Another contradiction rarely discussed openly is that some individuals who speak about women’s rights and equality still do not genuinely hold deeply egalitarian views regarding women. For some, women’s rights function more as politically acceptable language within Western spaces than as a sincere social or political belief. As a result, support for women sometimes continues only so long as it does not fundamentally challenge traditional male power structures.
Consequently, even within exile politics that constantly speaks of freedom and equality, women still often have to struggle not merely for presence, but for meaningful participation beyond the group photograph taken at the end of the conference.
Conferences and political gatherings are not inherently negative phenomena. They can play an important role in shaping dialogue, coordination, and political imagination for the future. Yet nearly five years after the Taliban’s return, Afghan exile politics has still failed to move beyond fragmentation, symbolic competition, and disconnected gatherings toward a coherent political process with a clear vision for Afghanistan’s future. Numerous conferences, statements, and gatherings have taken place during this period, but the outcome has largely been the reproduction of political fragmentation and competition over representation rather than the emergence of a shared horizon and sustainable political process.
The greatest danger is not fragmentation itself, but becoming accustomed to fragmentation. When exile politics focuses more on managing appearances, competing for visibility, and repeating familiar positions than on generating ideas, organizing politically, and maintaining real connections with society inside Afghanistan, conferences gradually stop being tools of politics and become substitutes for politics. Perhaps the greatest crisis today is that parts of Afghan exile politics remain more concerned with “being present” than with “creating change.” While Afghanistan inside the country changes daily under the pressures of poverty, repression, migration, and despair, parts of exile politics remain trapped moving between conference halls, repetitive panels, and similar statements.
Without a clear political vision, genuine acceptance of differences, and a living connection with society inside Afghanistan, even the most passionate gatherings may ultimately become nothing more than part of the archive of exile politics, an archive full of photographs, panels, and slogans that record the repetition of crisis more than they change the future.
