Muharram in Afghanistan has never been merely a religious occasion. In the historical memory of millions of citizens of this country, this month has been, far beyond a mourning ritual, a symbol of identity, social presence, and the right to express religious beliefs. From the alleyways of Dasht-e Barchi in Kabul to the mosques of Mazar-e Sharif, from the Hussainiyyas of Ghazni to the Tekiyehs, the Shia mourning houses, and religious centers of Herat, Muharram has always shaped part of the public face of cities and, over the decades, has become one of the most visible expressions of religious diversity in Afghanistan. But Muharram 2026 has arrived under circumstances in which this historical presence faces more restrictions, surveillance, and control than ever before, raising important questions about the future of religious freedoms, the place of religious diversity, and the fate of historical coexistence in Afghanistan.
In the weeks leading up to this year’s Ashura, numerous reports from Kabul, Dasht-e Barchi, Mazar-e Sharif, and several other cities across the country have pointed to the imposition of new restrictions on mourning ceremonies. The removal of mourning flags from certain areas, restrictions on placing religious symbols in public spaces, the arrest of a number of young people and mourners, limitations on media coverage related to Muharram, and extensive monitoring of how ceremonies are conducted have all painted a picture markedly different from previous years. At the same time, the ruling authorities have repeatedly emphasized ensuring the security of Muharram ceremonies and have spoken of security plans to protect mourners. This simultaneous occurrence of “ensuring security” and “imposing restrictions” has given rise to a phenomenon that may be called the Muharram security paradox.
On the surface, ensuring the security of religious ceremonies appears to be a necessary and defensible measure. Over the past two decades, Afghanistan has repeatedly witnessed bloody attacks against Shia religious ceremonies. Suicide bombings targeting mosques, Tekiyehs, and religious gatherings in Kabul, Mazar-e Sharif, and other cities have left hundreds of victims. Naturally, any government bears the responsibility of protecting the lives of its citizens and preventing the recurrence of such tragedies. But the fundamental question is: where does the line fall between ensuring security and restricting religious freedoms? At what point do security measures go beyond a protective necessity and become a tool for controlling and constraining religious identities?
What is observed this year in many Shia-majority areas shows that the issue is not limited to security alone. If the sole objective were to prevent security threats, the focus would be expected to fall on protecting gatherings, securing mourning procession routes, and preventing the activities of extremist groups. But when religious symbols are removed from public spaces, religious media faces restrictions, and ideological oversight is applied to the form and content of ceremonies, the matter moves beyond the realm of pure security and enters the domain of identity management and control of public space.
In political science and sociology, public space is not merely a collection of streets and squares; it is the arena in which various social, ethnic, and religious groups assert their presence. Flags, ceremonies, symbols, and public occasions are all part of this presence. For this reason, restricting a group’s use of its own identity symbols is not regarded as merely an administrative act, but as a limitation on that group’s ability to be seen within the public arena. From this perspective, what is observed today regarding Muharram ceremonies is not simply a reduction of some religious symbols; it is part of a process that is gradually transferring the presence of a religious identity from public spaces to closed and controlled environments.
Alongside this discussion, however, an important historical reality must also be acknowledged, one that is sometimes overlooked in the clamor of political disputes. Contrary to certain extremist narratives, the society of Afghanistan has, throughout much of its contemporary history, witnessed extensive coexistence between Shia and Sunni communities. Muharram was not observed exclusively among Shia; in many cities and villages across the country, Tajik, Pashtun, Uzbek, Turkmen, and other ethnic communities also regarded this occasion with respect and shared in the grief and mourning of their Shia compatriots.
In Kabul, Herat, Mazar-e Sharif, Ghazni, Bamyan, and many other regions, successive generations of Sunni citizens have lived alongside their Shia neighbors, attended each other’s ceremonies, stood together in difficult times, and forged deep social and human bonds. Even today, in many parts of the country, one can find Sunni families who pay their respects to Tekiyehs and Hussainiyyas during the days of Muharram, and Shia families who attend Sunni religious occasions. This reality demonstrates that Muharram in Afghanistan has not been merely a religious ceremony, but has in many instances become a symbol of mutual respect, coexistence, and social solidarity.
For this reason, any attempt to drive a wedge between Shia and Sunni is compatible with neither the historical realities of Afghanistan nor the spirit of Islamic teachings. The Muslim citizens of Afghanistan, regardless of their religious and ethnic affiliations, have lived side by side for centuries, and their commonalities have far outweighed their differences. The Sunni majority of Afghanistan, just as they have always expressed sympathy in the face of terrorist attacks against the Shia community, today regard respect for the religious rites of other Muslims as part of their Islamic and human culture.
The truth is that the Shia-Sunni divide has never been the central problem of the society of Afghanistan. What has kept this land standing throughout history has been the spirit of coexistence, mutual respect, and the understanding that all citizens of this country, despite their religious and ethnic differences, share a common destiny. Afghanistan will achieve lasting stability and peace when this precious social asset is preserved, and no citizen feels marginalized or excluded on account of their religion, ethnicity, or religious beliefs.
This matter takes on even greater significance when Afghanistan is considered as a multi-religious and multi-ethnic society. The history of this land has been shaped by diversity. Afghanistan is not a society of a single voice, but a collection of various ethnic groups, languages, faiths, and traditions. Any attempt to define the country according to a single and exclusive narrative, while eliminating or diminishing other narratives, will sooner or later collide with the social reality of Afghanistan. The experience of contemporary history has also shown that policies based on cultural and religious homogenization have not only failed to foster national cohesion but have deepened social divisions.
One important consideration in analyzing the current situation is the distinction between the Sunni community of Afghanistan and the Taliban policies. In media coverage, these two are sometimes mistakenly equated with one another, while the social reality of Afghanistan is far more complex than such a portrayal. Millions of Sunni citizens in Afghanistan have, across generations, lived alongside Shia communities, shared in each other’s joys and sorrows, and built deep social, cultural, and economic ties with one another. The current restrictions cannot be attributed to the Sunni community or to any particular ethnic group. These restrictions are rooted less in the historical relations among the people of Afghanistan than in an approach that seeks to redefine society within the framework of a particular and narrow reading of religion and politics.
Another point worth considering is the relationship between religious restrictions and the broader political and social trends in Afghanistan. In recent years, many observers have spoken of a gradual shrinking of civic space, restrictions on the media, the curtailment of independent institutions, and a decline in the participation of various social groups in the public arena. In this context, the restrictions imposed on Muharram ceremonies cannot be viewed as an isolated phenomenon. These restrictions form part of a broader process aimed at exerting greater control over public space and reducing the independence of social institutions.
From a human rights perspective as well, this year’s Muharram holds particular significance. Freedom of religion and freedom to practice religious rites are among the fundamental rights recognized in international human rights instruments. These rights are not limited to holding a religious belief, but also encompass the right to express, teach, propagate, and perform religious ceremonies. Whenever these rights are subjected to broad and unnecessary restrictions, serious concerns arise about the state of fundamental freedoms in society.
But perhaps the most important part of this discussion returns to the very philosophy of Ashura itself. Throughout history, Ashura has not been merely a religious event. For millions of Muslims, this occasion has been a symbol of the pursuit of justice, human dignity, freedom, and resistance against oppression. For this reason, Muharram has always carried a message that goes beyond mourning alone, a message that calls on people to defend what is right, to respect human dignity, and to stand against injustice.
It is at this point that the relationship between political power and religious rites becomes complex. Governments generally face fewer challenges from rituals that are purely devotional in nature, but when a religious tradition also carries social, moral, and historical messages, sensitivities increase. Ashura has held precisely such a place in Islamic history as a narrative of resistance against the monopolization of power and a defense of principles that transcend the fleeting calculations of political expediency.
Afghanistan today needs social solidarity more than ever before. The economic crisis, widespread migration, international isolation, and numerous livelihood hardships have placed society under immense pressure. In such circumstances, any policy that fosters a sense of exclusion, marginalization, or invisibility among a segment of citizens can deepen social divisions. Conversely, embracing diversity and respecting the religious rights of various groups can help strengthen social trust and reduce tensions.
Muharram 2026 may have placed before Afghanistan, more urgently than at any previous time, the question of whether the future of this country will be built on the acceptance of pluralism and coexistence, or on the restriction of differences and the narrowing of public space. The answer to this question does not merely determine the fate of one religious ceremony; it pertains to the kind of society Afghanistan will build in the years ahead.
The experience of Afghanistan’s history has shown that no single ethnic group, religious community, or social group has built this country alone. Afghanistan is the product of the contributions of all the peoples who have inhabited this land, from Hazara, Tajik, and Pashtun to Uzbek, Turkmen, Baloch, Nuristani, and other ethnic communities. Just as no group can claim exclusive ownership of this land, no religious identity should be deprived of the right to a presence in the public arena.
Ultimately, the central issue of Muharram 2026 is not merely the holding of a few ceremonies or the placing of a few flags. The issue is whether all citizens of Afghanistan have the right to express their religious identity in public space in a peaceful manner. The answer to this question is, in truth, an answer to one of the most fundamental questions facing Afghanistan today: what place will diversity, coexistence, and religious brotherhood hold in the future of this country?
If the history of this land holds a lesson for us, it is that coexistence has always proven more enduring than exclusion. Shia and Sunni in Afghanistan are, far more than rivals, partners in a shared history, a shared land, and a shared destiny. Muharram too, beyond any religious difference, can serve as a reminder of this truth, a truth that Afghanistan today needs more than ever: the truth of brotherhood, mutual respect, and living alongside one another.
You can read the Persian version of this analysis here:
