The Taliban’s Fragile Balance: What Security Won, Social Policies Lost

Five years after regaining power, the Taliban government has achieved a notable level of security and stability in Afghanistan. However, this hard-won calm comes at a significant cost. Beneath the surface, social policies have eroded trust between the regime and its citizens, particularly women and girls.

The Taliban’s greatest success has been their ability to quash the Islamic State – Khorasan Province (ISKP), which had threatened to destabilize the country. In doing so, they’ve eliminated the one insurgent group that posed a credible threat to their rule. This has allowed Afghans to travel and live without fear of being caught in the crossfire.

But this stability comes at the cost of social progress. The Taliban’s draconian decrees have severely curtailed women’s rights, turning Afghanistan into an extreme example of gender exclusion. Girls are denied formal education beyond sixth grade, and women are barred from participating in many aspects of public life. This is not only a humanitarian crisis but also a ticking economic time bomb.

The dearth of female professionals – doctors, teachers, and engineers – will soon be felt acutely as the country struggles to provide basic services to its population. The Taliban’s argument that schools are not safe for girls rings hollow in light of the urgent need for skilled workers. It’s a curious paradox: a regime that prides itself on security now claims it can’t protect women from themselves.

The education system, once a beacon of hope for Afghan children, has suffered under the Taliban’s stewardship. The proliferation of madrasas, or Islamic schools, has become the preferred model of education, with little attention paid to retaining qualified teachers and lecturers. This is not only a betrayal of the country’s intellectual potential but also a recipe for social stagnation.

The centralization of power in the hands of Supreme Leader Hibatullah Akhundzada has stifled governance and silenced dissenting voices within the movement. Many key figures, including those who negotiated the Doha agreement, have been pushed aside or marginalized. This has created a culture of fear, where even minor critics are swiftly purged.

Internationally, the Taliban’s inability to secure formal recognition has become increasingly embarrassing. Neighboring countries and European powers have maintained practical relations with Kabul but remain wary of committing fully to the regime. As long as women’s rights remain under siege, Afghanistan will continue to be a pariah state.

The greatest danger to the Taliban may not come from external forces but from within its own ranks. As the regime grapples with deep structural problems like accountability and corruption, it risks losing the very support it claims to have won. The Afghan people are beginning to question whether stability is worth the cost of their freedoms.

As we mark this anniversary, one thing is clear: the Taliban’s hard-won security has been purchased at a steep price in social progress. For how long can the regime continue to justify its rule as necessary but oppressive? What will it take for Afghans to demand more from their government and reclaim their rights? The coming years will be telling – and not just for Afghanistan, but for the international community’s ability to engage with a government that seems increasingly out of touch with its own people.