Five years have passed since the Taliban’s return to power in Afghanistan. During this period, the international community has tested various policies to influence Taliban behavior, from humanitarian assistance and political and economic pressure to diplomatic engagement and negotiations that initially began through indirect channels and today, in some cases, have reached direct talks.
At the same time, human rights defenders, Taliban political opponents, and many ordinary Afghanistan citizens have not stopped resisting. From street protests and underground schools to human rights campaigns and various forms of civil disobedience, they have tried to prevent the normalization of Taliban rule, both inside Afghanistan and at the international level.
However, neither the main expectations of the international community have been met, nor the hopes of many of the people of Afghanistan. An inclusive government has not been formed, political and social restrictions have continued, and the Taliban, instead of becoming more flexible, have further entrenched their system of governance based on their ideological interpretation of religion. Women have been excluded from education, universities, employment, and a large part of public life, and civil space and basic rights have faced even harsher restrictions.
The most common reaction to this reality has been: “the Taliban never changed.” But this response leaves a more important question unanswered: why, from the very beginning, were so many international policies built on the assumption that the Taliban would change? Why did a world that had invested two decades in state building, modern governance, and rule of law institutions in Afghanistan continue to believe that engagement, economic pressure, or the promise of international legitimacy could change this group’s behavior?
Perhaps the core problem was never simply that the Taliban failed to change; the problem was that the international community analyzed them through a framework unsuited to understanding the nature of such a movement. The shortcomings of international policy in Afghanistan were also not merely the result of a failure to change the Taliban; rather, they were rooted in the same analytical framework through which the international community understood and assessed the Taliban.
For this reason, this article does not ask why the Taliban govern the way they do. The central question is why, despite the experience of the first Taliban regime, two decades of war and state-building, and five years of direct observation of their rule since returning to power, the international community has continued to analyze this movement through a framework that does not match its actual nature.
The answer to this question matters not only for understanding Afghanistan’s recent past, but also for rethinking how ideological movements are analyzed and how peace processes are designed in future global crises.
The International Community’s Analytical Framework for Understanding the Taliban
A large part of the international community’s policy toward the Taliban was built on a set of assumptions that ultimately did not align with the reality of the group’s rule.
These policies were shaped by the belief that, after two decades of war, the Taliban’s primary goal was to achieve political power, end their international isolation, and become a political actor within the accepted rules of politics and international relations. It was therefore expected that participation in negotiations, the responsibilities of governance, economic pressure and the need for international legitimacy would gradually moderate the group’s behavior and priorities. In practice, this analytical framework rested on three fundamental assumptions.
First, that the Taliban understood concepts such as the state, legitimacy, peace, rule of law, and human rights in the same way these concepts are generally understood in international political and legal discourse.
Second, that the transition of an armed movement from the battlefield to a peace process and eventually to government would gradually turn it into an actor compatible with the principles of modern governance.
Third, that the responsibilities of governing and the need to engage with the outside world would override the group’s ideological priorities.
These assumptions did not stem solely from an analysis of the Taliban themselves; they also reflected the broader political climate of that time. After two decades of war, the international community was exhausted by the continuation of conflict, the high costs of military engagement, the failure of the state-building project, and widespread corruption in Afghanistan’s former republic. In such an environment, reaching a peace agreement became an urgent priority, one that at times took precedence over an accurate understanding of the Taliban’s true nature and the conditions necessary for sustainable peace.
Therefore, the shortcomings of international policy cannot be explained merely by tactical mistakes or political optimism. These shortcomings were rooted in an analytical framework that viewed the Taliban primarily as a political actor rather than an ideological movement, based on the assumption that gaining power would gradually align this group with the requirements of modern governance.
The Taliban Versus the Logic of States
From the very beginning of their emergence, the Taliban were less a political actor and more an ideological movement with a religious mission. In such movements, governance is not the ultimate goal; rather, it is a tool for establishing an order built on the movement’s ideological beliefs.
Accordingly, the legitimacy of government is measured not by the consent of citizens or international recognition, but by the degree of loyalty to this mission.
Within this framework, many Taliban policies that appeared costly or even irrational to foreign policymakers were entirely consistent with the movement’s internal logic.
The Taliban did not merely change the structure of government; they also redefined the concept of citizenship based on loyalty to their ideological interpretation. The consequences of this approach went far beyond the exclusion of women from education, employment, and a large part of public life. Religious and ethnic minorities, intellectuals, civil society activists, independent media, political critics and many other social groups also faced restrictions and marginalization from public life.
At the same time, the Taliban strengthened religious institutions, expanded the authority of the Ministry for the Propagation of Virtue and Prevention of Vice, and placed a large part of the administrative and security apparatus in the hands of individuals loyal to them. These measures demonstrated that the Taliban were willing to accept high economic, political, and diplomatic costs in areas they considered part of their ideological mission.
This does not mean the Taliban are indifferent to the economy, foreign relations, or the survival of their government. On the contrary, they have shown a pragmatic approach in certain areas, from regional trade to engagement with neighboring countries.
Nevertheless, the Taliban draw a clear line between what they consider politically negotiable and what they consider part of their ideological mission. From their perspective, issues such as the status of women, the structure of the education system, the role of religion in government, the limits of social freedoms and the definition of citizenship are not merely matters of public policy; they are fundamental elements of an order that the government considers itself obligated to enforce and protect.
For this reason, the expectation that the responsibilities of governance or international pressure could pull the Taliban away from their ideological priorities was based on a fundamentally flawed understanding of the movement’s nature.
The international community assumed that governing would change the Taliban, but the Taliban saw government as a tool for changing society according to their ideology.
Perhaps the international community’s most fundamental analytical error was attempting to understand the Taliban through the logic of states, when the Taliban viewed the state as a tool for realizing their own ideological order.
A Change in Political Standing, Not Ideological Identity
The Doha negotiations and the Taliban’s return to power changed the group’s political standing, but did not transform its ideological identity.
The Taliban went from being an insurgent movement to an actor negotiating with major world powers, attending diplomatic meetings, and becoming an unavoidable reality in regional politics. But a change in political standing does not necessarily mean a change in a movement’s ideological foundations.
The Taliban’s ideological identity had formed long before the Doha agreement, and even much earlier than their return to power. This identity took shape over decades of religious education, war, leadership structures, religious networks,s and a narrative through which the Taliban defined their religious legitimacy and historical mission.
For the Taliban, ideology was never a means to attain power; rather, power was a means to advance and expand their ideology. Entering political negotiations or engaging with the international community therefore did not necessarily mean reconsidering the movement’s fundamental goals.
However, this misunderstanding was not solely a product of the international community’s analytical framework; the Taliban themselves also played a role in shaping it.
During the Doha negotiations, they tried to present a different image of themselves. The tone of Taliban representatives had shifted, and they portrayed themselves as responsible actors ready to engage with the international community and capable of governing Afghanistan. At the same time, by highlighting the corruption, political divisions, and failures of the former republic, they sought to present themselves as a legitimate alternative to the existing political order.
In their official statements, they repeatedly spoke of general amnesty, security, engagement with the international community, respect for the rights of women and minorities “within the framework of Sharia,” and balanced relations with other countries. Although these concepts were never clearly defined, this very ambiguity reinforced the perception that the Taliban had changed compared to the 1990s.
Even so, one fundamental question remains: did the international community truly fail to understand the Taliban correctly, or had ending the war and withdrawing from Afghanistan become such an important political priority that the existing understanding of the Taliban no longer formed the basis of policymaking?
There is no simple answer to this question. Nevertheless, Afghanistan’s experience shows that there was a considerable gap between what was known about the Taliban and the policies ultimately adopted toward them.
Taliban rhetoric did not match their actions. While peace negotiations were underway, the group continued military operations, recruitment, and the expansion of its influence.
I, who at the time served as Deputy Minister of Defense of Afghanistan, witnessed firsthand that peace negotiations and the intensification of Taliban military operations were proceeding simultaneously. This experience shows that in assessing an ideological movement, its behavior on the battlefield is a more reliable indicator than the language used at the negotiating table.
Taliban conduct after their return to power revealed the same gap. The continuation of sweeping restrictions, the removal of a large portion of the country’s skilled and independent workforce from state institutions, the strengthening of religious institutions and the expansion of the authority of the Ministry for the Propagation of Virtue and Prevention of Vice showed that the Doha negotiations changed the international community’s calculations far more than they changed the Taliban.
What Should the World Learn for the Future?
Afghanistan’s experience challenges one of the most common underlying assumptions of international peace processes: the belief that once an armed movement enters negotiations and subsequently becomes part of the political order, it will gradually transform into an actor compatible with the principles of modern governance.
Afghanistan was not the first country where this assumption was tested, and it will likely not be the last.
If the most important conclusion drawn from the past five years is simply that “the Taliban have not changed,” then the international community has learned very little from Afghanistan’s experience.
But if this experience leads to a reconsideration of how peace processes are designed and how ideological movements are understood and engaged with, Afghanistan can become more than just a national crisis; it can become one of the most important lessons in contemporary foreign policy.
First, no peace process should be built on the assumption that the transition of an ideological movement from the battlefield to political power will automatically transform it into an actor committed to democratic and accountable governance.
Change should not simply be assumed at the negotiating table. Change must be reflected in a movement’s behavior, its institutional structure, its sources of legitimacy, and its practical acceptance of shared principles of governance.
Second, ideological movements must be evaluated based on their actual behavior, not merely on political rhetoric or the promises they make during negotiations.
Afghanistan’s experience showed that peace negotiations can continue even as a movement simultaneously wages war, recruits new fighters, and expands its military influence. For this reason, battlefield behavior and organizational structure are more reliable indicators for measuring change than political rhetoric.
Third, the goal of a peace process should not be limited merely to dividing or transferring power. Ideological movements must gradually be integrated into a society’s legal, political, and social order and accept its shared rules of governance, rather than forcing society to adapt itself to their order.
Sustainable peace is only possible when all political actors, without exception, operate within the framework of the rule of law, respect citizens’ rights, accept political pluralism and recognize the peaceful transfer of power.
Afghanistan should not be viewed merely as a historical case; the country’s experience should serve as a warning for future peace processes elsewhere in the world.
The international community continues to face movements and governments whose sources of legitimacy differ from those of conventional states. If these differences are ignored when designing negotiations and political transitions, the same analytical mistakes may be repeated in future crises.
Ultimately, the most important lesson from Afghanistan is that sustainable peace is not simply a product of power sharing; it depends on a clear understanding of the parties to a conflict and their acceptance of shared principles of governance. Whenever the international community confuses these two things, political agreements may fail to end conflicts and instead merely change their form.
Afghanistan showed that no policy can have a lasting impact on an actor if that policy is built on a mistaken understanding of that actor’s identity, sources of legitimacy and decision-making logic.
Perhaps the most important question Afghanistan leaves for the future of international policy is this: in the next crisis, will the international community correctly understand the nature of the actor it is facing before designing a solution?
You can read the Persian version of this analysis article here:
