作者： admin

It has been five full years since the Taliban reclaimed full control of Afghanistan, ending two decades of governance backed by a U.S.-led international military coalition. For the nation’s 22 million women and girls, life under the hard-line Islamist regime has transformed into something barely recognizable from the freedom many knew before 2021, according to first-hand testimonies collected exclusively by the BBC, one of the only international news outlets able to maintain consistent access to the country. The BBC held interviews with women across diverse regions, from bustling Kabul city neighborhoods to isolated rural villages, most of whom requested anonymity to avoid violent retaliation from Taliban authorities.

Across every sphere of daily life, systemic restrictions have dismantled the progress Afghan women made in 20 years of post-Taliban rule. Afghanistan remains the only country on Earth that enforces a total official ban on girls accessing secondary and higher education. Beyond barring girls over 12 from classroom learning, the regime has imposed mandatory male chaperone requirements for all travel outside the home, and enacted legislation that effectively legitimizes child marriage. Widespread bans on professional employment have left just 7% of Afghan women in the workforce, per United Nations data.

In interviews with BBC Afghan, Taliban Foreign Minister Amir Khan Muttaqi pushed back against descriptions of total restriction for women. Citing Unicef data that 2.6 million Afghan girls are barred from education beyond the sixth grade, Muttaqi argued that claims of a total ban are overstated. “Right now, three million girls are going to schools and madrassas,” he said, adding that only “one small part (of their affairs) is restricted until further notice.” He also claimed the number of female entrepreneurs in the country has grown from 30,000 in 2020–2021 to 120,000 today, asserting that women still work as teachers, civil servants, and business leaders with no total ban on public engagement.

But the women who shared their stories describe devastating, life-altering impacts of the regime’s policies. For Shakiba, a young woman who completed her secondary education through secret online classes, the day the Taliban seized Kabul remains the worst moment of her life. “Every year when this date comes I feel as if an old wound opens again and a new feeling of defeat fills my heart,” she said. Her lifelong dream of becoming a pilot, a goal she nurtured for years imagining herself flying freely across the sky, now feels entirely out of reach.

Zuhal, a former news anchor, lost the job that formed her core identity after Taliban employment bans forced her out of newsroom. “The days when I used to wake up to the sound of my alarm clock and get ready to go to work have now become days when I wake up in the morning knowing that I have to spend the whole day at home,” she shared. Kabul resident Ela explained that widespread poverty has forced most women to set aside their dreams entirely. “People are so overwhelmed by poverty and daily hardships that many have been forced to put their education, dreams, and hopes for the future aside,” she said. “Today, survival has become the priority, and many of us no longer have the time or energy to think about the future.”

Beyond lost opportunity, many women have faced brutal public punishment for violating the regime’s strict social codes. Shaima was publicly flogged 50 times after being accused of collaborating with foreign nationals and speaking to unrelated men, a punishment that left permanent physical scars and deep psychological trauma for her entire family. “They hit me so hard that my head would bend toward the ground,” she recalled, noting that her eldest daughter now wakes screaming from nightmares nearly every night fearing her mother will be killed. Manizha, who was lashed 39 times and jailed after Taliban authorities discovered her planned marriage to a man, said the experience left her suicidal and socially ostracized. “I had become a source of shame for my family and friends… I could no longer think about marriage,” she said.

Restrictions on healthcare have also created a public health crisis, pushing Afghanistan’s maternal mortality rate to one of the highest globally. Rules barring male doctors from treating female patients have left millions of women without access to life-saving care. Marzia, a midwife working in a remote clinic, recounted the death of a 45-year-old mother of six who could not access timely treatment after traveling from a distant district. “We managed to save the baby, but now I keep thinking about the baby’s future and the future of her six other children,” she said. “What will happen to them without their mother? We were all heartbroken.” For Maryam, who is currently expecting a daughter, the lack of access to female healthcare and education creates constant fear for her child’s future. “If things continue like this, what will happen to her? She will not even have the chance to finish school like I did, let alone go to university,” she said. “If one day she gets married, becomes pregnant and needs a female doctor during childbirth, what if there isn’t one? This is a matter of life and death.”

Despite the widespread hardship and oppression, many Afghan women still hold onto hope and continue to carve out spaces for themselves and other women. Noori, a 24-year-old who was unable to finish her law and political science degree after the takeover, refused to abandon her goal of advocating for women’s rights. She took a job at a local jam-making company to achieve financial independence, and three years later has launched her own business that currently employs 10 other women, creating much-needed economic opportunity for those barred from formal work. “I did not lose hope,” she said. “I want them to become independent, strong, and successful women like me and have a better future.” Thirteen-year-old Asma, who dreams of becoming a doctor, says she remains certain her dream will come true one day. “One day, everything will change… but we must continue with patience, and we will not lose hope,” she said.

Many of the women who spoke to the BBC issued a plea to the global community: do not remain silent about their plight. Ela, a dental assistant, urged international leaders and activists to keep the focus on Afghanistan and stand in solidarity with Afghan women. “Speak up for Afghan women, support their right to education and work,” she said. “Keep the world’s attention on their situation. We need solidarity, not silence.”

In a bizarre and widely criticized development in global geopolitical discourse, a cohort of young Emirati social media influencers has sparked intense backlash after circulating viral videos claiming the Muslim Brotherhood is secretly plotting to impose an Islamist caliphate across Britain and the Western world through subversive public outreach. The conversation ignited earlier this week when a clip from Rauda Altenaiji, a self-described “thinker of deep truths” on platform X, spread rapidly across social media.

The edited video cuts together footage of Altenaiji and fellow Emirati influencer Ahmed Sharif Al Ameri during an interview with British commentator Jonathan Sacerdoti — who recently argued at an Oxford Union debate alongside far-right figure Tommy Robinson that the West should be inherently suspicious of Islam — with out-of-context clips of American streamer Sneako, U.S. Representative Ilhan Omar, actor Ben Affleck, and journalist Mehdi Hasan. In the video, Altenaiji claims the Muslim Brotherhood is carrying out a quiet “invasion” of the West, using seemingly benign tactics like public relations campaigns and inclusivity initiatives to mask its ultimate goal of establishing caliphate rule.

Al Ameri adds that the movement leverages accusations of Islamophobia to silence critics, cutting to clips of the three public figures using the term to reinforce the claim. The video immediately drew widespread mockery and condemnation from analysts, journalists, and social media users alike, with many pointing to the absurdity of linking mainstream public figures like Affleck to the Muslim Brotherhood. Pakistani journalist Moeed Pirzada was among the first to question the narrative, asking publicly: “Are all Muslim organizations and campaigns across the UK and Europe are Muslim Brotherhood? Are you saying there is no ‘Muslim stereotyping’ in many parts of the West?”

Andreas Krieg, associate professor in the Defence Studies Department at King’s College London, summed up widespread criticism by framing the campaign as a poorly executed information operation. “Throwing fellow Muslims under the bus for a few clicks and cheers from Europe’s Islamophobic Far Right… some in the UAE are happy to further tarnish their reputation in the Muslim world, in an ill-conceived and terribly executed information op,” Krieg wrote.

Both Altenaiji and Al Ameri have claimed they operate independently of any official Emirati backing, but observers have noted clear patterns linking the influencers to established right-wing networks in Britain and official Emirati foreign policy priorities. Journalist Zaid Jilani joked that “the UAE is usually better at propaganda than this,” while even Sneako, who was unexpectedly included in the video, expressed confusion over the claim he was part of a Brotherhood plot. “This is proof of how new I am to Islam; they’re now accusing me of being part of the Muslim Brotherhood. I’m not even sure what that — like what is that?” he said during a livestream.

Additional viral content from other Emirati influencers has further fueled scrutiny. A separate widely shared clip of Al Ameri shows him declaring he is “more liberal than young Americans” and arguing that more radical extremism originates in the West today than in Arab countries, in an interview with an influencer focused on interfaith harmony in Israel. Another high-profile video from Emirati influencer Omar Al Blooshi delivered an ominous warning directly to British audiences, stating that Muslim Brotherhood-affiliated groups have operated in British public life for decades.

A consistent throughline across all these influencers is their open, strong support for Israel, a position aligned with the UAE’s official diplomatic stance. Al Blooshi recently wrote on X that “Anti-Zionism has become a convenient mask for antisemitism old prejudice repackaged in the language of politics,” while Altenaiji and Al Ameri expressed pro-Israel views during their interview with Sacerdoti. Multiple influencers have also been directly linked to the Henry Jackson Society (HJS), a right-wing British think tank that runs the anti-Muslim Brotherhood campaign “Ban the Brotherhood,” which has featured Altenaiji and fellow Emirati influencer Abdulqader Almenhali in official content.

The HJS itself has a well-documented controversial history: its director Alan Mendoza also leads the Jewish National Fund UK, which has donated £1 million to what has been described as “Israel’s largest militia” and counts Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu — who faces an international arrest warrant for alleged war crimes from the International Criminal Court — as an honorary patron. Mendoza also serves as a senior advisor to Nigel Farage, leader of the right-wing Reform UK party. One of the HJS’s original founders, Matthew Jamison, has since publicly denounced the organization as a “monstrous animal” and a “deeply anti-Muslim racist organisation.”

The emergence of this influencer campaign aligns with a broader trend of growing alliances between the UAE and right-wing political figures in Britain. Independent outlet Middle East Eye has previously documented the increasingly warm ties between Reform UK — a party that advocates for mass deportations of immigrants — and Abu Dhabi. Last year, far-right activist Tommy Robinson traveled to Dubai, where he claimed in a recorded video that he was visiting at the invitation of Emirati officials to discuss terrorist organizations in the UK, though no evidence was ever provided to support that claim.

To understand the UAE’s longstanding focus on the Muslim Brotherhood, it is necessary to look at the group’s regional role. Founded in Cairo in 1928, the Muslim Brotherhood is one of the world’s oldest and most prominent movements advocating for political Islam. In Arab states where free elections are held, parties affiliated with the Brotherhood often win majorities or emerge as the largest opposition bloc. Analysts widely agree that it is the Brotherhood’s staunch opposition to autocratic rule, rather than its religious orientation, that has made it a key target of the Emirati government.

Abu Dhabi has long pushed for the Muslim Brotherhood to be officially banned in the UK, a lobbying effort that has so far been unsuccessful. In 2023, it was revealed that the UAE paid a Geneva-based private intelligence firm, Alp Services, to smear Britain’s largest Muslim charity, Islamic Relief Worldwide, by falsely linking it to the Brotherhood. To date, no independent inquiries or reviews have found evidence that the Muslim Brotherhood operates as a unified organization or wields significant disproportionate influence in British public life. Still, the vague, unprovable nature of the alleged threat has made it a useful tool for British right-wing figures to push sweeping anti-Islam narratives.

Unlike the reception the UAE may have expected, the influencers’ claims have been met not with widespread alarm, but with broad skepticism, mockery, and derision from observers across the political spectrum.