The powerful tremor of Aug. 31, 2025, and its aftershocks in Afghanistan’s eastern provinces once again plunged thousands of families into mourning. Already grief-stricken, Afghans faced the tragic scenes of lives lost and homes destroyed, deepening a collective sense of despair. Social media was flooded with messages of condolence and grief, as people tried to ease, if only symbolically, the pain of the bereaved.
Institutions promised to help the victims, and some wealthy compatriots tried to provide immediate assistance. Yet the cry of a young man, standing over the bodies of his family members in a ruined village in Kunar, cut deepest: “Give me nothing. Just help me bury my loved ones.” His anguish captured the collective helplessness of our people. But will this be our last cry of despair in the face of natural disaster?
Debates soon spread across social media. Many offered useful information, awareness, and reflections on the suffering of villagers. But others promoted superstition and ignorance, blaming victims for sins they never committed and demanding repentance from survivors. Such words, devoid of compassion, only deepened wounds. They revealed a cruel mindset in which human life holds no value.
As usual, little was heard from official institutions or aid agencies, leaving devastated communities to fend for themselves. Even in past decades, when a government existed in name, the pattern was the same. Today, in what is essentially a “geography without a state,” this reality should not surprise us—it is the bitter price we are paying.
The repeated earthquakes in Khost, Herat, Badakhshan and now the east highlight several truths:
Until people free themselves from ignorance through awareness and scientific education, prosperity will remain out of reach.
Without rational, knowledge-based education, there can be no strong state capable of mobilizing society for collective betterment.
While cultural bonds of solidarity have not been entirely lost, they must be revived in new ways. In times of crisis, only local communities truly respond. Expecting swift action from the state—an illusion in today’s Afghanistan—or from international organizations, which often prioritize their own interests, creates only false hope.
This note is not a technical study of Afghanistan’s earthquakes, but a reminder of key points. The Earth is alive, constantly shifting both within and on its surface. Earthquakes and volcanoes are visible signs of these processes. Afghanistan, located between the Indian, Eurasian and Lut tectonic plates, is under constant pressure, making it highly prone to earthquakes. The towering Hindu Kush mountains are proof of these geologic collisions.
Earthquakes cannot be prevented, but their destructive effects can be reduced. Other earthquake-prone countries such as Japan, Turkey and the United States have shown that knowledge and preparation save lives. Afghanistan cannot match their resources, but it can find solutions suited to its conditions. Many of the houses destroyed in the east were built directly on fault lines. In Herat, mud homes collapsed on secondary fractures. Population growth and the construction of weak two-story homes of mud and wood have multiplied risks. Avoiding such unsafe structures and using the expertise of local engineers could save countless lives. A modest single-story house is far better than mourning for loved ones lost beneath rubble.
Another looming concern is Kabul. Rapid urban growth, disregard for building standards, and active fault lines such as the Chaman–Muqur fracture pose a major threat. Geologists believe Kabul is overdue for a major quake, its last catastrophic one occurring in the 16th century. Without urgent reforms, the capital faces the risk of a human catastrophe.
Ultimately, in this land, only the people themselves can truly come to each other’s aid. Relying on the state is meaningless, and expecting salvation from abroad is a delusion. Our collective memory is short; after each tragedy, we rebuild the same unsafe homes in the same dangerous places, as if nothing happened.
The final word is this: like others in the world, Afghans too can overcome historical ignorance with awareness, education and science. We can end these cycles of mourning by adapting to our environment and building a safer future. This is a right granted to every citizen of Afghanistan, and it is our responsibility to pursue it.
Daud Shah Saba holds a Ph.D. in geology from India. He served as governor of Herat and as minister of mines and petroleum in the former Afghan government. He is also the author of “The Political Deadlocks of Afghanistan.”
The views expressed in the opinion section of Amu are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of the outlet.
