56 THENEWYORKER,FEBRUARY28, 2022
life,” he said. “The problem is that there
is not a model for Islamic law in the
world today. Even I cannot explain it.
It is like an ocean when you enter. But
a way must be found.”
I
brahim Haqqani, the uncle of the
Taliban’s interior minister, met me
in his fortified residence in Kabul.
Armed men guarded the approaches;
at the end of a long driveway lined with
blast walls, more gathered outside.
Haqqani received me in a room with
long yellow curtains, drawn against the
sunlight. Apparently in his sixties, he
had a long dyed-black beard and a tur-
ban flamboyant enough for a villain in
“Pirates of the Caribbean.”
Haqqani told me that he had spent
most of his life fighting for two goals:
to free Afghanistan of foreign inter-
vention, and to implement sharia law.
The first had been achieved. The sec-
ond had yet to be. “We speak of the
sharia that has been brought to us from
God by its messenger,” he explained.
“That is the sharia we want.”
I told Haqqani that there was confu-
sion about what kind of sharia the Tal-
iban wished to implement. “There is one
sharia,” he replied. “Within sharia, there
is behavior that is neither sinful nor makes
one an infidel, and that brings about at-
titudes of mercy and compassion. We
are inching toward that, in order to bring
ease to people and yet protect ourselves
from infidel behavior. ”
I asked if the Taliban intended to
revive the strict form of sharia that they
had imposed in the nineties. Haqqani
told me that, to explain, it would be
necessary to counter the negative im-
pressions that had been spread by in-
fidel propaganda. “I will give you one
example,” he said. “In the past govern-
ment, did we allow people to take pho-
tos? No. But now have we prevented
anyone from taking photos? No, we
have not. In the previous government,
we prevented women from going to
the marketplace on their own. What
was the reason? The reason was the
depravity that existed here, from the
Russian era. There was no trust, and
we were not confident in the women.
That is why we were trying to limit
women until we insured their proper
security. Nowadays, though, there are
not restrictions on women. They roam
freely, they go to work, they are doc-
tors, they are sitting in offices.”
Haqqani begged my forgiveness; he
had to attend the sunset prayer. While
he was out of the room, I thought about
the dissonance between the new gov-
ernment’s professions of softness and
its lingering ferocity. Just weeks ear-
lier, Haqqani’s nephew Sirajuddin had
held a celebration for the families of
suicide bombers. The commander
Mokhbit had told me that the men he
sent to their deaths were “closer to God
than you or I.”
After a few minutes, Haqqani re-
turned and continued his thought. “We
still have some concerns about the ef-
fects of American influence,” he said.
But, he added, “there is a trust that Af-
ghans will not repeat the actions of the
past, and that the actions of the for-
eigners, and the services that were pro-
vided to them, will not be repeated. We
try to take a softer approach in all as-
pects of sharia, where it does not con-
tradict God’s orders.” He spoke with
the assurance of an all-knowing parent:
“Severity is a global principle. When-
ever there is chaos in a country, strict
measures are put in place, and when
things become normal again the strict
measures can be relaxed.” He went on,
“God is patient. If a tribe takes the right
path, God will give them ease and com-
fort, but if the tribe takes the wrong
path, denying the Quran and such
things, then God gives them severe pun-
ishment. This is God’s way and the
world’s way.”
O
n December 3rd, the Taliban is-
sued a decree, in the name of
the Supreme Leader, which held that
women should have some inheritance
rights and should not be forced into
marriage. But it did not address their
rights to work and to pursue second-
ary education.
The next day, I met with a group of
former senior employees of the Minis-
try of Women’s Affairs. They ranged in
age from thirty-two to forty-six, and
most had been the primary breadwinner
in their family. Although female activ-
ists in Afghanistan risked violence and
censure, all of them were willing to show
their face and to use their real name.
Nazifa Azimi, who had been the
Ministry’s I.T. director, explained that
when the Taliban swept into Kabul she
and her colleagues went home, unsure
what was going to happen. Quickly,
though, they decided to stand their
ground, and began showing up at the
Ministry every morning. They found
the building cordoned off by guards. “At
the beginning, the Taliban guards at the
door were polite and would come out-
side and speak to us,” Azimi said. But,
after two weeks went by and nothing
changed, the women decided to protest.
Shahlla Arifi, who had been in charge
of education and culture at the Minis-
try, led the protests. Ever since then, she
said, she had been receiving threats, in-
cluding texts warning her that her hus-
band, a teacher at a school for boys,
would be “taken down.” Arifi and her
husband have five children, between
three and fifteen years old. They had
considered joining the crowds trying to
evacuate from the Kabul airport, but
were deterred by the chaos.
Since then, the risks for female pro-
testers have only increased. According
to reports, several women in Kabul have
vanished after attending anti-Taliban
rallies in recent months. All the women
I spoke to wanted to leave Afghanistan,
convinced that they had no future there.
Indeed, virtually every Afghan I met
who was not a Talib intended to flee.
Many asked for my help. In the end,
they believed that what the resurgent
Taliban were offering was not a “soft
revolution” but, rather, an update of their
previous rule. The degree of severity
they apply in governing Afghanistan
will depend on the circumstances they
face. But people who have experienced
freedom don’t like having it taken away,
and many more Afghans will likely seek
a way out of the country. Some may
fight. The majority, however, especially
the poor, will have no choice but to
adapt in order to survive.
When I asked Arifi about the Su-
preme Leader’s decree, she laughed and
shook her head. “Their ideology hasn’t
changed,” she said. “There I was in the
street, asking for my rights, but they
were not ready to give them to me. They
pointed a gun at my head, and they
shouted obscenities at me. They will do
anything to convince the international
community to give them financing, but
eventually I’ll be forced to wear the
burqa again. They are just waiting.”
