The inauguration of a major hospital in Kabul could have been a positive development in itself, especially under a regime whose name is synonymous with violence, bloodshed, and a detachment from public service. Yet, by omitting Persian from the hospital’s signage, the Taliban turned what should have been a celebrated moment into a source of controversy. Observers noted that the hospital’s plaques and signs feature only Pashto and English, effectively sidelining Persian, a language that Taliban officials and spokespeople have repeatedly claimed is official and national. This exclusion is neither accidental nor administrative negligence; it is a deliberate, politically motivated decision aimed at reinforcing a policy of anti-Persian sentiment. This is not unprecedented: the Taliban have repeatedly removed Persian from official signage at universities, hospitals, government offices, and other public institutions.
Just as the Taliban seek to reshape society along their narrow, tribal interpretation of religion, they apply the same logic to other spheres, including language. In their view, diversity, religious, cultural, or linguistic, is not a social reality but a problem to be suppressed. Within this framework, Pashto is not merely a language but a tool for cementing linguistic hegemony, while Persian is to be marginalized or eliminated.
However, just as the Taliban’s religious uniformity clashes with societal realities, their attempt at linguistic uniformity is doomed to fail. Language, rooted in daily life, collective memory, and social interaction, cannot be erased simply by removing it from signs or posters. The Taliban are well aware of this. In practice, their policy of exclusion does not strengthen Pashto or marginalize Persian; it fosters resentment and deepens the divide between speakers of the two languages.
Afghanistan is a multilingual country, a fact the Taliban cannot deny, yet deliberately attempts to ignore. Persian, Pashto, Uzbek, Pashtai, Balochi, Nuristani, and several other languages and dialects have coexisted for centuries. Any regime that ignores this reality undermines the foundations of peaceful coexistence. Imposing a single language from above does not produce unity; it breeds dissatisfaction and grievances. The Taliban have chosen a path that actively erodes social cohesion.
Excluding Persian neither enhances the Taliban’s legitimacy, improves governance, nor strengthens social solidarity. On the contrary, each act of erasure sparks waves of protest, weakens unity, and pushes society toward dangerous polarization, pitting Persian speakers against Pashto speakers. The Taliban are fully aware of these consequences. Yet they continue their policy of exclusion because their goal is the consolidation of linguistic hegemony. When the objective is to establish and maintain ethno-linguistic dominance, policymakers of this sort are indifferent to the social costs. Indeed, Anwar-ul-Haq Ahadi, the former leader of the Afghan Millat Party and a staunch advocate of linguistic hegemony, explicitly emphasized in a recent interview that Pashto must remain dominant over all other languages, particularly Persian, under any circumstances, even at the cost of increasing social discontent and undermining what is termed “national unity.” Ahadi and the Taliban share a common objective: the consolidation of linguistic supremacy. The difference lies in method: Ahadi advances his agenda with subtlety and ostensibly democratic rhetoric, while the Taliban employs beards, traditional garb, and Islamic slogans.
Meanwhile, the response of politicians and citizens, especially Persian speakers, has largely been cautious, confined to social media. Persian-speaking politicians, who sometimes defend the language depending on context, have mostly remained silent in the face of the Taliban’s anti-Persian policies. Pashto-speaking political leaders, who publicly advocate national unity, have also largely chosen silence. Imagine, by contrast, a regime in Afghanistan promoting Persian at the expense of Pashto: widespread protests among the public, elites, and leaders would likely follow, potentially escalating into a major crisis. Yet when Persian is excluded, criticisms remain largely confined to media and social platforms, and some even call for moderation and tolerance. The Taliban interpret such restraint not as prudence or foresight but as weakness and submission, factors that further embolden their exclusionary policies.
The bottom line is that governments rarely succeed in cultural wars, especially those targeting language. Persian cannot be erased from society by removing it from signs or posters. Linguists attest that Persian possesses deep cultural richness and broad social roots; it can thrive independently of political power and survive even without state support. Persian did not come into prominence by Taliban decree, nor will it disappear by their decree. What suffers, however, is the credibility of policies that, instead of building a shared and peaceful future, focus on erasing symbols and markers of collective identity.
You can read the Persian version of this analysis here:
جنگ طالبان با فارسی؛ وقتی این زبان در کنار پشتو و انگلیسی تحمل نمیشود
