By The Diplomat | Created at 2026-08-14 19:25:43 | Updated at 2026-08-14 22:30:37
10 hours ago
Five years have passed since the Taliban returned to power in Afghanistan. During this period, the international community tried a wide range of policies to influence the Taliban’s behavior, from humanitarian assistance and political and economic pressure to diplomatic engagement and negotiations that began through indirect channels and, today, in some cases, have developed into direct talks.
At the same time, human rights defenders, political opponents of the Taliban, and many ordinary Afghans did not abandon their resistance. From street protests and underground schools to human rights campaigns and various forms of civil disobedience, they sought to prevent the normalization of Taliban rule both within Afghanistan and internationally.
Yet neither the international community’s main expectations nor the hopes of many Afghans were realized. An inclusive government did not emerge, political and social restrictions continued, and rather than becoming more flexible, the Taliban further consolidated their system of rule based on their own ideological interpretation of religion. Women were excluded from education, universities, employment, and much of public life, while civic space and fundamental rights came under even tighter restrictions.
The most common response to this reality has been to conclude: “The Taliban never changed.” But that answer leaves a more important question unresolved. Why were so many international policies based, from the outset, on the assumption that the Taliban would change? Why did a world that had invested two decades in state-building, modern governance, and rule-based institutions in Afghanistan continue to believe that engagement, economic pressure, or the promise of international legitimacy could change the group’s behavior?
Perhaps the central problem was never simply that the Taliban failed to change. Rather, it was that the international community analyzed them through a framework that was ill-suited to understanding the nature of such a movement. The shortcomings of international policy in Afghanistan were not due only to the failure to change the Taliban. Instead, they were rooted in the analytical framework through which the international community understood the movement.
Accordingly, this article does not ask why the Taliban govern as they do. Instead, it asks why, despite the experience of the Taliban’s first regime, two decades of war, and state-building, and five years of direct observation of their rule after returning to power, the international community continued to analyze the movement through a framework that did not fit its actual nature. The answer to this question is important not only for understanding Afghanistan’s recent past, but also for rethinking how ideological movements are analyzed and how future peace processes are designed in other international crises.
How the International Community Understands the Taliban
Much of the international community’s policy toward the Taliban was built on a set of assumptions that ultimately proved inconsistent 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 objective was to secure political power, end their international isolation, and become a political actor operating within the established rules of international politics and international relations. It was therefore expected that participation in negotiations, the responsibilities of governing, 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 core assumptions. First, that the Taliban understood concepts such as the state, legitimacy, peace, the 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 into government would gradually transform 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 outweigh the group’s ideological priorities.
These assumptions did not emerge solely from analyses of the Taliban themselves. They also reflected the broader political context of the time. After two decades of war, the international community had grown weary of prolonged conflict, heavy military costs, the failure of the state-building project, and widespread corruption within the former Afghan Republic. In such an environment, reaching a peace agreement became an urgent priority – one that, at times, took precedence over a careful understanding of the Taliban’s nature and the conditions necessary for a durable peace.
The shortcomings of international policy, therefore, cannot be explained simply by tactical mistakes or political optimism. They were rooted in an analytical framework that viewed the Taliban primarily as a political actor rather than as an ideological movement, assuming that holding power would gradually bring the group into line with the demands of modern governance.
The Taliban vs the Logic of States
From the very beginning of their emergence, the Taliban were less a political actor than an ideological movement with a religious mission. In such movements, governing is not the ultimate goal; rather, it is a means of establishing an order rooted in the movement’s ideological beliefs. Accordingly, the legitimacy of a government is measured not by the consent of citizens or international recognition, but by its fidelity to that 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 according to loyalty to their own ideological interpretation. The consequences of this approach extended far beyond the exclusion of women from education, employment, and much 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 in public life.
At the same time, the Taliban strengthened religious institutions, expanded the authority of the Ministry for the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice, and placed much of the administrative and security structure in the hands of loyal followers. In all these actions, the Taliban demonstrated that they were willing to bear considerable economic, political, and diplomatic costs in areas they regarded as part of their ideological mission.
This does not mean that 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. However, they draw a clear distinction between what they consider politically negotiable and what they regard as part of their ideological mission. In their view, 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 essential elements of an order that the government is obliged to implement and protect.
For this reason, the expectation that the responsibilities of governing or international pressure would move the Taliban away from their ideological priorities was based on a misunderstanding of the movement’s nature. The international community assumed that governing would change the Taliban. The Taliban, however, viewed government as a means of transforming society according to their ideology. Perhaps the international community’s most fundamental analytical mistake was trying to understand the Taliban through the logic of states, while the Taliban viewed the state as an instrument for realizing their own ideological order.
New Political Status, Same Ideological Identity
The Doha negotiations and the Taliban’s return to power transformed the group’s political status, but they did not change its ideological identity. The Taliban evolved from an insurgent movement into an actor negotiating with major world powers, participating in diplomatic meetings, and becoming an unavoidable reality in regional politics. Yet a change in political status does not necessarily mean a change in a movement’s ideological foundations.
The Taliban’s ideological identity long pre-dated the Doha agreement, much less their return to power. It was shaped through decades of religious education, war, leadership structures, religious networks, and the narrative through which the Taliban defined their religious legitimacy and historical mission. For the Taliban, ideology was never a means of gaining power; rather, power was a means of advancing and expanding their ideology. For this reason, entering political negotiations or engaging with the international community did not necessarily mean reconsidering the movement’s fundamental objectives.
This misunderstanding, however, was not solely the product of the international community’s analytical framework. The Taliban themselves also played a role in shaping it. During the Doha negotiations, they sought to present a different image of themselves. The tone of Taliban representatives had changed, 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 corruption, political divisions, and the failures of the former republic, they sought to present themselves as a legitimate alternative to the existing political order.
Their official statements repeatedly referred to 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, their ambiguity reinforced the perception that the Taliban had changed since the 1990s.
Yet one fundamental question remains: Did the international community genuinely misunderstand the Taliban, or did ending the war and withdrawing from Afghanistan become such overriding political priorities that the existing understanding of the Taliban no longer served as the basis for policy? There is no simple answer to this question. The experience of Afghanistan, however, suggests that a significant gap existed between what was understood about the Taliban and the policies that were ultimately adopted toward them.
The Taliban’s rhetoric did not match their actions. While peace negotiations were underway, the group continued its military operations, recruitment, and expansion of its influence. As Afghanistan’s deputy minister of defense at the time, I witnessed firsthand that peace talks and intensified Taliban military operations were advancing simultaneously. This experience suggests that, when assessing an ideological movement, behavior on the ground is a more reliable indicator than the language of negotiations.
The Taliban’s conduct after returning to power revealed the same gap. The continuation of sweeping restrictions, the exclusion of much of the country’s independent professionals from government institutions, the strengthening of religious institutions, and the expansion of the authority of the Ministry for the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice demonstrated 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 assumptions underlying international peace processes: the belief that once an armed movement enters negotiations and later becomes part of the political order, it will gradually evolve into an actor compatible with the principles of modern governance. Afghanistan was not the first country in which this assumption was tested, and it is unlikely to be the last.
If the most important conclusion of 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, then Afghanistan may become more than a national crisis; it may become one of the most important lessons for contemporary foreign policy.
First, no peace process should be built on the assumption that moving an ideological movement from the battlefield into political power will automatically transform it into an actor committed to democratic and accountable governance. Change should not be assumed at the negotiating table. It should be reflected in a movement’s behavior, institutional structure, sources of legitimacy, and practical acceptance of shared principles of governance.
Second, ideological movements should be assessed on the basis of their actual behavior, not simply their political rhetoric or promises made during negotiations. Afghanistan’s experience showed that peace talks can continue while a movement wages war, recruits new fighters, and expands its military influence. For this reason, behavior on the ground and organizational structure are more reliable indicators of change than political rhetoric.
Third, the purpose of a peace process should not be limited to sharing or transferring power. Ideological movements should gradually be integrated into a society’s legal, political, and social order and accept its shared rules of governance – not the other way around. A durable peace is possible only when all political actors, without exception, operate under 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. It should also serve as a warning for future peace processes elsewhere. The international community continues to deal with movements and governments whose legitimacy comes from sources different from those of conventional states. If these differences are ignored in designing negotiations and political transitions, the same analytical mistakes may be repeated in future crises.
Ultimately, Afghanistan’s most important lesson is that lasting peace is not the product of power-sharing alone. 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, political agreements may not end a conflict; they may simply change its form.
Afghanistan showed that no policy can have a lasting effect on an actor if it is built on a flawed understanding of that actor’s identity, sources of legitimacy, and logic of decision-making. Perhaps the most important question Afghanistan leaves for the future of international policy is this: In the next crisis, will the international community understand the nature of the actor it faces before designing the solution?
