By Dr. Fazel Mahmood Fazly
For nearly two centuries, Afghanistan has been subjected to a barrage of narratives crafted by colonial powers to define our identity, history, and culture. These accounts, disseminated through global media, academia, and literature, have distorted the Afghan worldview, compelling us and the world to see our nation through the lens of empire. This essay is not merely an act of historical correction, but an assertion of intellectual sovereignty, a return to narratives grounded in Afghan experience, dignity, and truth.
A History of Imperial Narratives
Afghanistan’s modern history has been shaped by three major waves of external domination, each accompanied by its own justificatory rhetoric:
- The British Invasions (19th Century): Under the guise of “bringing civilization,” the British Empire invaded Afghanistan, portraying our people as “disorderly tribes” in need of subjugation.
- The Soviet Occupation (20th Century): The Soviet Union justified its brutal intervention as an “internationalist duty,” killing hundreds of thousands while branding us as backward and ungovernable.
- The U.S.-Led Intervention (21st Century): Framed as a “war on terror,” the American occupation bombed our villages, homes, and even wedding ceremonies, all in the name of “freedom” and “democracy.”
Each wave of domination was cloaked in noble rhetoric, yet the intent remained consistent: to control and exploit. The colonial pen proved as destructive as its swords, tanks, and drones, weaving narratives that dehumanized Afghans as “desert dwellers,” “mountain tribes,” or a “people of perpetual war.” These labels were not the products of objective scholarship, but deliberate tools of empire-propaganda disguised as anthropology or ethnography. Such distortions, reproduced across generations, have sought to erode our sense of agency and justify foreign intervention.
Geopolitics is not a realm of ethics; it is a ruthless arena of power, deceit, and manipulation, where terms like “justice” and “humanity” are mere slogans. Marginalized nations, particularly Afghanistan, have borne the brunt of this hypocrisy. The British demolished communities in the name of “civilization.” The Soviets massacred our people under the banner of “internationalism.” The Americans destroyed our homes while preaching “democracy.” Each empire left scars, not only on our land but on our collective psyche, perpetuating a cycle of oppression justified by moral platitudes.
The Myth of Afghan Extremism
The colonial legacy extends beyond physical destruction to the intellectual subjugation of our identity. As other post-colonial nations wrested their stories from imperial authors, Afghanistan remains bound within pages written by those who never truly knew her. The contours of our history and culture continue to be curated through the imperial archives of London, Moscow, and Washington.
In the 19th century, British officials labeled us “savage tribes.” In the 20th century, Soviet and Western scholars rebranded us as “uncivilized” or a “failed state.” After September 11, 2001, the West abruptly redefined Afghan society as “extremist” to justify military intervention. These labels were not neutral observations but strategic tools to legitimize domination. By branding a nation as “disorderly” or “failed,” empires pave the way for intervention, framing it as a moral necessity.
Decades of orchestrated propaganda have compelled Afghans to internalize fabricated narratives, shifting blame inward and obscuring the external forces that dismantled their social fabric. The notion that Afghan society is intrinsically extremist stands as the most insidious of these fabrications, an intentional geopolitical construct designed to legitimize intervention and control.
In truth, Afghan culture is deeply conservative yet profoundly humane, anchored in hospitality, tolerance, and communal harmony. Before the late 20th century, our urban educated class and rural communities coexisted peacefully, balancing modern and traditional ways of life. In villages, music and prayer thrived side by side; in cities, officials joined rural gatherings and religious ceremonies. The discourse of hatred and takfir (excommunication) was alien to our society. Extremism, far from being innate, was a foreign import, sown through decades of intervention and manipulation.
The Roots of Extremism: A Legacy of Foreign Intervention
The first major wave of organized violence and ideological extremism emerged during the Cold War, triggered by the Soviet invasion of 1979. This aggression shattered Afghanistan’s social equilibrium, displacing millions and creating fertile ground for external manipulation. The United States, alongside Pakistan and several Arab states, funneled billions of dollars into arming and radicalizing Afghan refugees, particularly vulnerable children in refugee camps. These children, stripped of home and hope, were indoctrinated with hatred and trained for violence.
The consequences were horrific: schools were burned, women were attacked with acid, prisoners were tortured, and atrocities such as mutilation and public executions became symbols of a manufactured extremism. These acts were not rooted in Afghan culture but in the geopolitical strategies of foreign powers. The same nations that fueled this violence later positioned themselves as saviors, claiming to combat the very extremism they had nurtured. Today’s bans on women’s education and the rise of extremist groups are not products of Afghan tradition but remnants of those imperial machinations.
Reclaiming Our Narrative: A Path to Intellectual Liberation
Freedom is incomplete when the mind remains in chains. Afghanistan must free itself not only from occupation, but from the colonial imagination that has long defined it. For generations, external powers have inscribed our identity in their own terms, portraying us as chaotic, powerless, and irredeemably fractured. Yet beneath those distortions endures a civilization of poets, philosophers, and survivors.
Our history is not one of extremism but of endurance. From the red coats of empire to the iron of Soviet tanks and the drones of American war, Afghanistan has withstood every assault upon its body and spirit. The next revolution must be of the intellect, a reclamation of memory and meaning. We must chronicle our own history, revive our art and literature, and amplify the voices of our scholars, poets, and storytellers.
In reclaiming our narrative, we reclaim our dignity. And in doing so, Afghanistan’s struggle transcends the battle for territory to become a renaissance of thought, identity, and truth. Now is the moment to raise that indomitable spirit from mere survival to genuine independence, toward development, self-determination, and renewal. We must no longer serve as pawns in other people’s games; it is time to define not only our own rules, but ourselves.
Conclusion: A Call for Afghan Revival
The most enduring colonial lie is the claim that Afghans are incapable of self-rule. Every empire has advanced this myth to justify its dominion, and every Afghan generation has been called to disprove it. Yet history stands as our witness: though our land has been invaded and our people tested, we have never surrendered our dignity, our faith, or our will to endure.
Afghanistan is not a failed nation; it is a wounded one. And wounded nations, guided by wisdom, unity, and courage, can rise stronger than before. Our path to renewal begins with truth: we must reclaim our narrative, restore our cultural identity, and reaffirm the moral strength that has always defined us.
Let us now craft a future that honors our ancestors and invests in our children, a future grounded in dignity, development, and self-determination. The time has come to move beyond survival toward sovereignty, to replace dependence with vision, and despair with purpose. Afghanistan’s destiny must no longer be written by others; it must be authored by Afghans themselves, with clarity, conviction, and confidence in the enduring spirit of our nation.