At the outset, it must be stated that this article seeks to move beyond numerical or statistical approaches to the subject of Afghan migrants in Iran. Instead, it draws from lived experiences and applies a philosophical lens to explore the existential condition of being a migrant in Iran. Migration, with all its consequences, has become a mode of existence and a component of the collective identity for a large segment of the Afghan population. Yet, for reasons both obvious and concealed, this existential mode has rarely been interpreted or examined in depth. The goal of this piece is neither to incite hatred nor to demand recompense, nor is it an emotional appeal. Rather, it is an attempt at a moral-philosophical analysis of the status and dignity of Afghan migrants in Iran—a dignity that has been trampled, and a status that has been systematically diminished. This very degradation calls for urgent attention.
Over the past century and more, millions of Afghans have migrated to Iran, Pakistan, and other countries across the globe. The driving force behind these mass displacements has been the persistent unrest in Afghanistan—beginning with the violent campaigns of Amir Abdur Rahman Khan (1880), and intensifying through subsequent events including the coup by Mohammad Daoud Khan (1973), the Soviet invasion (1979), the mujahideen-led jihad (1980s), the civil wars (1990s), the rise of the Taliban (1996), the U.S. invasion (2001), and the Taliban’s return to power (2021). In sum, Afghanistan has remained in a near-constant state of instability for well over a century. This prolonged turmoil has not only prevented the emergence of a stable, service-oriented state in Afghanistan, it has also fundamentally undermined the very concept of statehood. By contrast, neighboring countries such as Iran have maintained a semblance of state structure and relative stability. The absence—or failure—of a functioning state in Afghanistan has led to two critical and life-threatening challenges for its citizens: security (the risk of being killed) and economic survival (the risk of starvation). For many Afghans, migration was not a choice but a necessity—a matter of survival. They fled from red zones of danger to green zones of relative safety, including Iran and Pakistan. For the host countries, this influx often provided a cheap labor force. Yet, in the absence of adequate policy and management, it also brought complications, particularly due to the sheer volume of migrants and the fact that the host countries themselves were not fully developed. Thus, while these migrations may have offered marginal benefits to some Afghans, it is difficult to defend or celebrate those benefits when they occurred under conditions that violated their basic human rights. In truth, these mass displacements have produced an undeniable humanitarian and human rights crisis.
Migration to Iran has not led to the enhancement of Afghan migrants’ human condition or the affirmation of their humanity. Quite the opposite: it has led to the erosion and degradation of their human dignity. This stands in direct contradiction to both moral expectations and the progressive direction of socio-historical time. A journey that should have signified not just spatial relocation but moral and temporal advancement instead led migrants backward, stripping them of recognition, rights, and status. In the 21st century, they were not seen as more human; rather, they were relegated to a category of the “less human.” This reality deserves critical ethical reflection, not only for Iran as the host country, but also for Afghan political elites and policymakers. It should prompt introspection on the devastating cost of more than a century of conflict, failed governance, and statelessness under various regimes in Afghanistan. While this does not absolve or excuse the dehumanizing policies of authoritarian governments in Afghanistan, this historical failure makes the imperative for positive change more urgent, not less. However, the full discussion of that is beyond the scope of this article. Despite the significance of this issue, Afghan and Iranian media alike have largely ignored it. Among the sea of publications and broadcasts, one would be hard-pressed to find even a paragraph that seriously addresses the moral implications of the degraded human status of Afghan migrants in Iran. Yet this is not a marginal issue involving a few isolated individuals—it concerns millions of human beings and millions of cases, quietly buried under the daily noise of supposedly more “important” matters. This essay, therefore, can only be seen as a modest attempt to echo the unheard voices—voices that remained silent not by choice but out of fear. Fear of being reported to the police. Fear of losing their meager wages, being fired, having their families go hungry, being sent to detention camps, or being deported. Recent incidents such as the suffocation of Seyyed Mahdi, a teenage Afghan migrant, at the hands of Iranian police, or the shooting and burning of a vehicle carrying Afghan asylum seekers a few years ago—these are only the rare cases that became public. They are but the tip of the iceberg. Countless other such tragedies remain hidden in the shadows of the Islamic Republic’s governance, forgotten under the dust of time and silence.
As previously noted, this article seeks primarily to examine the erosion of the moral standing and human dignity of Afghan migrants under the rule of the Islamic Republic of Iran. Those who have personally experienced life in Iran as Afghan refugees or asylum seekers can attest, often far beyond isolated incidents, to the daily indignities and dehumanizing treatment they endure, particularly at the hands of Iranian law enforcement. Out of caution, let us restrict our discussion to the police. However, even this is revealing: expressions like “Afghan jerk,” “Afghan donkey,” and other derogatory slurs have, for decades, served as common shorthand for referencing Afghan migrants in Iran. These terms, along with the phenomenon of arbitrary police arrests, speak volumes. The Islamic Republic could choose a more humane and principled approach in dealing with Afghan migrants. Consider the contrasting norms in most Western democracies, where Afghan refugees are also present. While those systems are far from perfect and deserve their critique, at a minimum, the legal frameworks they uphold, which reflect the cultural, ethical, and civic ethos of their societies, formally recognize the human rights of migrants. Once individuals complete the naturalization process, they are legally regarded as full citizens, enjoying equal status and protections under the law. They become official members of the political community. Western countries generally offer migrants basic rights: the right to citizenship, property, legal recourse, and public protest. Civil society often shows deep sensitivity toward migrant issues. For instance, when police in the United States were accused of systemic abuse against African Americans, it triggered widespread public outrage and birthed the “Black Lives Matter” movement. By contrast, similar treatment of Afghan migrants in Iran—particularly those of Hazara origin—has not sparked any comparable national reckoning. The only discernible response has been sporadic, individual commentary from a few media activists. Moreover, the distinction frequently made in Iranian discourse between “legal” and “illegal” migrants is ethically flawed and misleading. Those with valid documentation—identification papers, passports, visas, and sufficient funds—are not refugees or migrants; they are tourists. And tourism, one of the world’s largest sources of national revenue, is widely welcomed by most countries. Thus, the label of “undocumented Afghan” or “illegal migrant” is not only inaccurate but deliberately stigmatizing. Iran demands full documentation and legal status from individuals who, by the very fact of their displacement, lack those things. Being undocumented or unrecognized is often a defining feature of refugee status. These are precisely the people whose exceptional legal and existential status calls for deeper moral reflection.
This article adopts as its ethical foundation a modern, global standard rooted in the principle of “inherent human dignity”—a value that has emerged from over two and a half millennia of philosophical evolution and now finds expression in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Despite occasional controversy, the declaration commands near-global consensus today: all human beings, regardless of their physical, gendered, intellectual, geographic, or cultural differences, are equal in rights and dignity. People have the right to move, to change their nationality, and to seek asylum. Being a refugee or migrant should never lead to a forfeiture of one’s human rights or intrinsic worth. (See United Nations, Articles 2, 13–15.) This essay evaluates the status of Afghan migrants in Iran according to this premise: “All human beings are born free and equal.” It does not matter what legal status someone may hold—this equality is not contingent, it is foundational. Humanity’s journey to embrace this idea, however, has been arduous. Two and a half millennia ago, even within the most advanced civilizations, the notion of universal dignity was virtually nonexistent. Take Aristotle, for example. Aristotle, living in one of the most sophisticated cultures of his time, did not believe in the intrinsic equality or freedom of all people. Ancient Greek society was rigidly hierarchical, with social status largely inherited and unchangeable. A farmer was born a farmer and died one. A lawyer or politician inherited those roles by birth. While Plato also accepted a stratified social structure, his philosophical vision included radical departures. He challenged democracy, supported gender equality in intellectual capacity, and believed education had the power to transform individuals across class boundaries. In The Republic, Plato famously wrote: “A child born with a golden soul may come from iron parents, or vice versa.” (Plato, Republic, 415a-b). In other words, human potential was not entirely predetermined by birth or bloodline.
Aristotle, by contrast, was less flexible. In his Politics, he leaves no doubt that some humans are “natural slaves,” born to serve and never capable of achieving freedom or equality. (Aristotle, Politics, 1254a 1255b). He had no moral objections to slavery; his concern was merely to understand it, to define its contours, and to determine the limits of what kinds of humans could fall under the category of slave—or whether such beings were even fully human. It has taken humanity 2,500 years—and a long history of war, revolution, and moral reckoning—to challenge this worldview and establish the now-universal premise that no human being is a slave, and that all people are born free and equal. From the American and French revolutions to the signing of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948, the struggle has been long and painful. These revolutions, though riddled with contradictions—such as continued slavery after the American Revolution or post-revolutionary inequality in France—shared one overarching direction: to abolish slavery, dismantle systemic hierarchies, and affirm the dignity of every human being.
Despite the persistent challenges in the practical realization of human equality, there is now a broad consensus that all people, though different, are equal. The seemingly simple and ready-made phrase for us 21st-century individuals, “All human beings are free and equal,” has emerged only after a long and bloody history of violence, subjugation, and humiliation. In other words, humanity has spent nearly two and a half millennia waging wars, taking slaves, looting, and subjecting one another to the most degrading forms of abuse before arriving at this principle. It took the weight of a devastated moral and physical history for human beings to reach even this fragile consensus that “people are free and equal.” And even now, there remains a considerable gap between the principle and its full implementation. Today, however, no individual or state can openly endorse slavery without attracting moral condemnation. Supporting slavery—whether at the individual or institutional level—has become a mark of ethical disgrace. The Islamic Republic, too, ostensibly claims to oppose slavery and cannot afford to defend it publicly. But rejecting slavery in rhetoric is an easy, cost-free, and often deceptive gesture. The real question lies in understanding what such a rejection means in today’s world. Who, in essence, is considered a “slave”? What characteristics define a person as enslaved? Conversely, what qualities does a free and ordinary person possess that a slave does not? Only through clarifying these questions can we begin to understand the condition of Afghan migrants in Iran under the rule of the Islamic Republic.
Read Part II: The Devaluation of Afghan Migrants’ Human Dignity under the Islamic Republic of Iran
You can read the Persian version of this article here:
بخش اول – تنزیل حیثیت انسانی مهاجر افغانستانی در جمهوری اسلامی
