The Taliban’s war on education: ‘Nobody talks about what is happening to the boys’

“They look at you before they listen to you. If your appearance is wrong, you are already in trouble before the class begins,” he says.

Five years after the ultra-conservative Islamists of the Taliban retook Afghanistan, students have described to the Guardian a collapsing education system, with women banned, lecturers leaving and teaching increasingly focused on religious subjects and discipline.

Students are required to attend religious lectures and pray in public every day, sometimes for two hours at a time, says Hashmat. The lectures are about Islam, conduct and obedience. They are not optional. In some cases, he says, they are held during time that would otherwise be used for regular academic courses.

“I am missing my actual classes to sit in a lecture about obeying. That is what they [the Taliban] think education is for. Everyone talks about the girls who were banned, but nobody talks about what is happening to the boys who were allowed to stay.”

Another student studying in central Afghanistan said the problem is not only weak teaching, but also the disappearance of debate and questioning from the classroom. “We are expected to listen, not to question,” says Qader*. “Since the fall of Kabul, the university has lost its purpose. It feels more like a madrassa now — a place where curiosity is banned and remaining silent ordered.” Hashmat studies journalism, a subject shaped by digital tools, online platforms, verification, ethics and technology, but as he listens in class, he says he wonders whether the person teaching the course understands the subject well enough to teach it.

“He is teaching us about the modern world while struggling to use PowerPoint in the class. How can you teach journalism technology if you do not understand what technology is?”

Hashmat’s account matches those of more than 20 students interviewed by phone at public and private universities in seven provinces across Afghanistan – Kabul, Kandahar, Helmand, Nangarhar, Bamiyan, Balkh and Wardak.

Afghanistan’s higher-education sector contracted sharply between 2019 and 2024, according to Unesco, with female enrolment down to zero by 2024 and male enrolment falling from 310,369 in 2019 to 188,957 in 2024.

Kabul University still looks like a university from the outside. The buildings are open, male students still attend, exams are held and degrees are issued. But students say much of what makes it a university has been hollowed out.

Experienced professors have left the country, stopped teaching or been pushed aside. And ideologically aligned Taliban lecturers have been hired in their place. In some departments, recent graduates and even undergraduates are teaching.

Hashmat points to one lecturer who, he says, finished his own degree only two years earlier. “Now he is standing in front of us. It is clear he does not know more than we do.”

Zalmay*, a student in Helmand province, describes a similar decline in the quality of teaching. “Some teachers come to class and only read from old notes,” he says. “When we ask questions, they cannot explain beyond what is written in front of them. We are university students, but sometimes it feels like we are back in high school.”

A former Kabul University professor, who has requested anonymity because he fears retaliation, confirms the students’ accounts and says the loss of qualified lecturers has weakened universities that are still expected to produce graduates.

Nearly all those who have spoken to the Guardian describe some version of the same crisis: weak teaching, underqualified lecturers, mandatory religious lectures, pressure over appearance and a growing belief that education no longer leads to work.

Kabul University once meant something very different. For generations, it trained Afghanistan’s doctors, engineers, journalists, civil servants and political leaders. To be admitted there was a source of pride for a family. It meant a brighter future was possible.

After the fall of Kabul, Hashmat says two of his younger brothers dropped out of school. They no longer believe education would help them find jobs or build a future. For years, school was presented as the safest path forward: study, graduate, work, support the family. Since the Taliban takeover, that promise no longer seems real.

“They do not believe education will help them any more. I am reaching the same conclusion and find it hard to attend classes.”

Even on campus, Hashmat says, journalism students feel hostility. They are studying an occupation that has been restricted, lost professionals and treated with suspicion. Many independent news outlets have closed. He says he and his classmates have been called shaitan (Satan) by their teachers.

“We are studying journalism in a country where journalism barely exists. What are we being trained for?” he asks.

The question has worn down many of his classmates. Some still attend because their families expect them to; some come because a degree, even a weakened one, still carries social status.

But Hashmat says many fellow students no longer believe in what they are doing. “They come because their families want them to. But inside, they have already given up.

“I keep going because I do not know what else to do. But every day it gets harder to believe it means something,” he says. “The Taliban war on the battlefields has stopped, but their war on education continues in silence.”

* Names have been changed to protect their identities