Based on the latest reports from the Taliban-controlled Ministry of Education, which were released to the media last week, religious schools have now surpassed 21,000, with over 3.5 million students enrolled. In contrast, regular public and private schools have more than 18,000 students. These figures clearly signal the direction Afghanistan is heading and the dark, perilous future that looms ahead.
A society devastated by poverty and surviving solely on foreign aid needs educational institutions that teach its children how to earn a living. As Maulana once said, humans first think of bread. Education, more than anything else, should contribute to the economic improvement of society, freeing people from dependence, begging, and reliance on foreigners. While it’s true that society’s needs extend beyond just finding bread, and that once basic needs are met, other important needs must be fulfilled, these should be addressed in their proper time. Maslow’s famous theory on basic needs, which is a benchmark for evaluating education systems at UNESCO and other international organizations, suggests that only after fulfilling basic needs can a population lead a dignified life and achieve national stability and prosperity.
To raise children and youth in a way that enables them to live with dignity, they need to learn a variety of skills and knowledge, which conventional education—sometimes referred to as secular education—provides in today’s world. Religious education, particularly as taught in schools in Afghanistan and Pakistan, plays no significant role in improving people’s lives or meeting their needs. Not only does this type of education fail to make students self-sufficient, but it also raises them to be reliant on charity and alms, becoming a burden on society. This is the simplest flaw in the madrasa education system, meaning that Afghanistan is now training 3.5 million individuals who will become passive consumers, dependent on others for sustenance.
However, the problem with this type of education does not end there. Many who graduate from these schools have high expectations and inflated claims about their knowledge, despite knowing little. They view other fields of knowledge with disdain and ridicule and do not consider practitioners of other disciplines as their equals. Many of these graduates believe they are different from others because they represent God and the Prophet and speak on their behalf. This sense of self-righteousness makes them immune to criticism, and any critique is interpreted as an insult to religion and sacred values. In this way, they become agents of social repression, suppressing other educated groups and entrenching authoritarian norms in society.
The situation becomes even more perilous with the infiltration of extremist and jihadist ideologies into religious schools in Afghanistan and Pakistan. This is a new phenomenon that did not exist in older schools. Now that the Taliban, as a political movement reliant on violence, has gained prominence in the region and become a geopolitical player, many religious schools have aligned with this agenda, becoming hubs for the growth and promotion of extremism and terrorism. Of course, not all religious schools are like this, but the prevailing model under current conditions is the Taliban model. These schools are isolated environments where students are cut off from exposure to different ideas and alternative worldviews. This mental and psychological isolation makes students highly vulnerable and prime targets for recruitment into terrorist groups, leading them to participate in war and violence.
If 3.5 million Afghan youth had been trained in skills that could lead to income-generating jobs instead of attending religious schools, Afghanistan would have experienced a significant transformation. Each young person equipped with practical knowledge and skills could potentially support two to three family members, improving the lives of nearly ten million citizens. However, the current situation is reversed. An even greater disaster is that the value and importance of other academic fields have diminished under the Taliban regime, with public schools facing new challenges every day. For the Taliban and their teachers, public schools are seen as competitors, and by offering different knowledge, they reduce the influence of religious leaders. The Taliban view the war against modernity and its associated phenomena as part of their mission and are systematically working to weaken public schools for this reason.
Afghanistan has lost a significant portion of its human resources over the past three years, as most of the country’s intellectual and cultural elites have fled, seeking refuge in exile and migration. Replacing this vast number of skilled and professional individuals will require at least two decades of systematic effort and sufficient investment, a challenge far beyond the capacity of Afghanistan’s domestic budget. The imbalance between religious schools and public schools is the peak of this disaster. Public schools are supposed to train human resources for various professional fields, while religious schools focus on just one field. Yet, according to reports, there are more than 21,000 schools for religious education and only around 18,000 for all other fields. Those familiar with the principles of development and the requirements for escaping poverty and backwardness can grasp the depth of the disaster caused by the Taliban’s regime in Afghanistan.
The Taliban regime, by assigning government positions to religious leaders and sidelining professionals, is forcing society to align with its conditions. Many people send their children to religious schools and Quranic memorization centers in the hope that they will become religious leaders or receivers and eventually secure a government job. People know that, in this system, one cannot succeed through professional education and will instead face pressure and threats. Signs of a destructive tsunami are visible on Afghanistan’s horizon, but no one seems to take it seriously. As Nima Yooshij says:
At the village’s edge, a lone man stands,
With a heavy load on his back,
His hand on the door, he murmurs to himself:
“My worry for these sleeping ones keeps me awake,
Leaving my eyes filled with tears.”
You can read the Persian version of this editorial here:
