Russia became the first major global power to formally recognise the Taliban. As expected, this triggered a wave of anger and disappointment from Afghan politicians, civil society activists, and ordinary citizens alike. Statements were issued. Tweets went viral. Commentators rushed to offer interpretations.
Some said this was Russia asserting regional power. Others suggested it would mark the Taliban’s political demise that they might now become pawns in geopolitical games. Some warned that other countries would follow suit, while many rightly condemned Russia’s blatant disregard for the Taliban’s human rights abuses, especially their treatment of women and minorities. But amid all these reactions, one question demands reflection: Why are we surprised?
Russia’s engagement with the Taliban didn’t begin after the fall of Kabul. It started long before while the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan was still standing. In those years, political figures including former President Hamid Karzai, former Vice President Yunus Qanooni, former Balkh Governor Atta Mohammad Noor, former Deputy Chief Executive Mohammad Mohaqiq, former MP and peace negotiator Fawzia Koofi, Mujahideen leader Abdul Rab Rasul Sayyaf, and former Foreign Minister Salahuddin Rabbani travelled to Moscow to meet Taliban leaders despite repeated warnings from the Afghan government that such meetings would undermine national sovereignty. They went anyway.
In Doha too, before the collapse diplomats and officials from Russia, China, Iran, and other countries queued to shake hands with Taliban negotiators. These meetings were not clandestine. They were public. And they signaled that global powers were preparing for a post-republic Afghanistan. So again: Why are we acting shocked now? Who handed the country over to the Taliban? Why do we pretend we didn’t see it coming?
Our biggest mistake then and now is miscalculation. And we continue to repeat it. Today, instead of organising ourselves, we wait idly, hoping the very actors who facilitated our downfall will somehow help us reverse it.
The Taliban are not a legitimate government, nor are they capable of governing. They run Afghanistan like an armed militia, not a responsible, accountable state. There are no clear institutional structures. Decisions are made behind closed doors, by a tight inner circle, based on group interest and ideology not policy or law. There is no transparency, no rule of law, and certainly no accountability.
On top of that, they have completely erased Afghan women from all aspects of life from education to employment to political participation. Freedom of speech is dead. Independent media is silenced. What exists now in Afghanistan is not Islam, but an authoritarian regime using religion as a cover for oppression and acting in ways that are fundamentally un-Islamic.
People are starving. The economy is in freefall. And the youth with no access to education or opportunity are growing increasingly vulnerable to radicalisation. Yet despite this, countries that are preparing to follow Russia in recognising the Taliban show little concern for these realities. Their calculations are based on self-interest and short-term strategic positioning not justice or human dignity.
Taliban-controlled Afghanistan is an open-air prison. And while such regimes may seem strong, history and I personally believe shows that dictatorships like this do not last. But only if we, the Afghan people, unite. Only if we invest in educating our youth. Only if the diaspora stops fragmenting and instead works toward a single goal: liberating Afghanistan from the grip of the Taliban.
Russia’s recognition of the Taliban is not just a geopolitical shift. It is a mirror, reflecting our own bitter failures:
– Our failure to build a political alternative
– Our failure to form even the most basic level of unity
– Our failure to offer the Afghan people hope after the collapse
Four years have passed. The repression is deeper. The need for action is more urgent than ever. But Afghan opposition remains scattered, weak, and increasingly divided. Rather than forming a national front, we’ve created isolated initiatives driven more by personal rivalry than meaningful political difference.
So, let’s ask ourselves honestly: What have we done?
Many of our political figures including those with responsibility for past failures have behaved more like NGO directors than leaders. They issue statements. They attend conferences. But they lack vision, structure, or any roadmap for the future. Those abroad are more divided than ever. Those inside Afghanistan are silenced, isolated, or ignored. The Afghan people, caught in the middle, are losing hope.
From day one after the collapse, there was a vacuum of leadership, no direction, no coordination, no shared horizon.
Over the past four years, I have personally spoken with hundreds of Afghan figures former presidents, commanders, intellectuals, youth, activists. All say the same thing: “We must do something.” But none are willing to do something together.
Egos remain intact. Mistrust runs deep. And as a result, a national movement has never materialised. How can we expect the world to support us when we cannot sit together ourselves? Even now, those expressing outrage at Russia’s decision can they sit down at the same table, just once, for the sake of Afghanistan? For the sake of our people especially Afghan women, who suffer the most under this regime?
Russia won’t be the last.
The United States, regional powers, and others may follow some for strategic gain, others out of fatigue or indifference. The Taliban may slowly gain international acceptance. But the real question is not what the world will do.
The real question is what we will do. Afghanistan will not be freed through tweets. It will not be rebuilt through panel discussions or symbolic resolutions. It will take unity. It will take political courage. It will take shared purpose. Until we, as Afghans, find the collective will to stand together nothing will change. Not the Taliban. Not global recognition. Not our destiny.
Ismail Miakhil is the former Director General of RTA (Radio Television Afghanistan) and a close aide to former President Ashraf Ghani. He was involved in media reform and state communication during the Republic era and is now engaged in Afghan political dialogue, diplomacy, and diaspora advocacy.
The views expressed in opinion pieces published on Amu’s website are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the editorial stance of the outlet.
