A Generation In Waiting: Four Years After The Fall Of The Afghan Republic

(MENAFN- Khaama Press)
An Afghan girl travelling with other burqa clad women peeps out of a car window in Kandahar on March 12, 2022. (Photo by Javed TANVEER / AFP)

On this day, four years ago, the Afghan Republic collapsed. In an instant, the foundation that had supported millions of young Afghans' dreams disintegrated. I was born in 2001, the year the international community entered Afghanistan-bringing with it a new system called democracy, and a promise called“liberation,” especially for Afghan women. I grew up in a country shaped by that promise, where youth were encouraged to think big, dream boldly, and believe in change. So, I dreamed of becoming president. Not because I was naive, but because, for a time, it felt possible-even achievable. My generation was told we were the future, the changemakers of Afghanistan. But that future collapsed. Kabul fell, and with it, something far more personal crumbled: the dreams of Afghan youth.

What followed was not a return to history, but something worse: the chronic, crushing erosion of hope. The pages of history we once read about in our classrooms-thinking they belonged to the past-are now unfolding in real time, and Afghan youth are trapped within them.

Today, Afghanistan faces a multi-layered crisis-from economic collapse and widespread human rights repression to mass poverty and the systematic exclusion of half the population. According to UN Women , since August 2021, more than 70 decrees have targeted Afghan women and girls: school closures, workplace bans, and near-total erasure from public life. Afghan women now live under a regime that the International Crisis Group has called“the most discriminatory regime in the world.”

But this crisis is not only gendered-it is generational. Afghan youth are not living; they are surviving. Many face economic despair, food insecurity, forced displacement, and social silencing. Despite these harsh realities, the international response has remained stuck in humanitarian mode. Aid-though significantly reduced-continues to enter the country to prevent societal collapse by starvation and disease. However, no meaningful pathway exists beyond this dependent model. As Brookings reports, more than 90% of Afghans live in poverty. While the economy has stabilized from freefall, it remains stagnant.

Emergency relief may keep people alive, but it cannot create life. No country can survive on life support alone.

We all know the dilemma of the past four years: isolate the current regime and risk a humanitarian catastrophe-or engage, albeit conditionally, and risk normalizing relations with an internationally unrecognized authority. But this binary is misleading. Recognition is not the only form of engagement, and isolation is not the only form of resistance.

There is a middle path-one that does not normalize authoritarian behavior, but also avoids the abandonment of an entire nation simply because of who governs it.

This path requires a shift in both strategy and perspective toward principled conditionality: negotiating for access to all Afghans, supporting independent civil society, investing in youth-led programs, and ensuring that humanitarian aid does not replace political strategy.

Engagement does not mean endorsement, especially in the context of Afghanistan. But it must signal to Afghans-particularly youth-that the world is watching and will not allow their rights to be bargained away for silence.

At the same time, the international community must hold the line: human rights cannot be sacrificed for the illusion of stability.

Afghan Youth Are Still Speaking-But Who Is Listening?

There is a troubling tendency among many actors to speak about Afghan youth-but rarely with them.

Last night, I spoke with a group of young women in Afghanistan who described the daily realities of living under a system designed to silence and erase them: the requirement to cover even their eyes, the impossibility of pursuing even modest aspirations. One girl expressed a desire to learn a new skill to support her family-but found no opportunities. Others had earned scholarships to study abroad but were barred from leaving the country without a mahram. For families without means, even these narrow hopes are out of reach.

These women value the gains made during the 20 years of the Republic-but they do not romanticize them. That progress, they told me, did not reach most Afghan women. What they want now is not nostalgia-and certainly not another war. They want progress and development to return-and this time, to reach everyone.

They also made one thing clear: Afghans protested. They spoke. They risked everything to be heard. But each time, the world simply watched-and then moved on-leaving youth more restricted than ever, not knowing where to turn or whom to trust.

Afghans cannot continue to struggle in isolation. They need meaningful international support-support that shifts mindsets, opens opportunities, and enables long-term development that becomes irreversible.

Global initiatives must include genuine Afghan representation. Afghan youth have not disappeared. We are still here. In quiet classrooms, underground schools, and community networks-organizing, innovating, resisting.

We do not need a seat at someone else's table. We need decision-making power in the processes that define our futures. Including us in global policy is not symbolic-it is strategic. That is how sustainable and inclusive solutions are built.

A Path Forward

Four years in, the question is no longer whether Afghanistan can return to what it was. The real question is whether the world is willing to move beyond the paralysis of crisis response and help rebuild a future not just for Afghans-but with them.

Doing so will require courage from international donors, nuance from policymakers, and trust in Afghan youth and civil society. It means rejecting the false comfort of“nothing can be done” and replacing it with the hard work of“what can we do better?”

Standing with Afghan youth is not just morally right-it is a strategic necessity. Sustainable peace, a resilient society, and inclusive recovery are impossible without the active participation of Afghanistan's young generation.

We, Afghan youth, are still here. Still fighting. Still hoping. Not for charity-but for a chance to live the lives we were once told were possible. We are the architects of Afghanistan's future.

But we cannot build it alone.

Disclaimer : The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of Khaama Press.

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