Afghanistan’s Freedom of Expression Void
The few women still working in media face especially harsh scrutiny.
Censorship dominates the day-to-day working life of Saba, a 24-year-old journalist in Afghanistan’s capital Kabul.
“Censorship starts by choosing what topics to cover, and ends with word-by-word scrutiny of reports to ensure I mention nothing against the Taliban,” she explained.
She is strictly prohibited from reporting on social issues such as poverty, unemployment or health. Covering human rights or women’s issues is also out of the question.
She said that media outlets were obliged to publish nothing but praise and admiration for the Taliban government.
“There is no neutrality or absolute truth behind these reports and news stories,” Saba explained. “In general, the media have been turned into a platform for amplifying the voice of the current government.”
Space was particularly limited for a female journalist in public. When Saba goes into the field to report a story, she said, people “look at me as if I have been found guilty of a crime”.
And as one of the few women still working in the media sphere, she continued, she had to be extra cautious not to make the slightest mistake. Detention would mean not only imprisonment and torture but also heavy social repercussions for her and her family.
Freedom of expression in Afghanistan vanished overnight when the Taliban seized power in August 2021. Hundreds of media outlets shut down, and thousands of journalists, especially women, lost their jobs or were forced to leave the country.
Since then, according to a report by Reporters Without Borders, around 141 journalists have been detained in Afghanistan.
The Taliban’s widespread restrictions and comprehensive control over the media have it impossible for any outlet or journalist to publish content beyond what benefits the Taliban government.
According to Human Rights Watch, over the past three years, the Taliban have imposed widespread censorship on Afghanistan’s media and journalists through the unlawful use of force.
Shaharzad Akbar, the executive director of the Rawadari human rights organisation, said that ordinaryAfghans did not feel safe speaking freely in public spaces, on social media or to the press, for fear of Taliban reprisals.
She noted that a Rawadari report detailed how “the Taliban have dismantled mechanisms that previously facilitated access to information”.
“No one can claim to be a human rights activist or a women’s rights activist,” she said, adding, “If they do, they are immediately threatened and silenced.”
Journalists, she continued, were particularly tightly scrutinised. Even mild criticism on-line prompted contact from Taliban intelligence, followed by threats and demands to remove the content.
“Even if someone posts about the state of electricity or other basic civil services, they are targeted,” Akbar said.
Saba said that the pressure of self-censorship and absence of freedom of expression were wearing her down, leaving her feeling increasingly exhausted and timid.
Like other journalists, she struggled to find topics to cover, and multiple rounds of editing generally ensured that nothing critical or truthful remained in the report. In some cases, her work was not published at all.
“Even if someone’s positive remark is a lie, we are forced to repeat it. Otherwise, the officials will summon the media manager or the journalists to be warned and reprimanded,” Saba said.
Few journalists could dare put critical questions to Taliban officials.
“Even if you ask,” she continued, “no one will answer you.”
The situation is even more difficult outside the capital.
“A female journalist cannot interview the Taliban because they refuse to speak with women,” said Parwana, 23, who lives in a small regional town.
Parwana described her existence in the past three years as being under a microscope. As one of only a handful of local female journalists, her personal life and relationships are constantly scrutinised. Every word she speaks or writes—whether on social media or in private messages—must align with the Taliban’s expectations.
She recalled an incident last summer when she shared a favourite song on her personal social media feed. Her editor immediately called her, saying, “Delete your story now!”
“I am extremely cautious and cannot even share the truth on my social media accounts,” she said. “If even if a vox pop is unfavorable to the Taliban, we are not allowed to include it in our reports.”
Parwana began her career just as the Taliban regime came to power and recounts multiple instances where she worked on reports about women or human rights violations, only to face a dead end.
“When it comes to reporting about women, we are not permitted to publish it. I have worked on several reports and approached various sources, but they refused to provide any information, saying they would not share details about women,” she said, adding, “I was working on a report about girls' religious schools, but it was not published because the Taliban did not approve it.”
“We cannot publish any news without government approval,” she continued, recalling a shooting incident in her province some months ago which her workplace was unable to report on for three days. Despite having comprehensive evidence, they had to wait for the Taliban to confirm the incident. Even then, the report could only be published under strict conditions dictated by the regime.
“Last year, a colleague of ours was imprisoned for six months simply for reporting the facts,” Parawana said, adding, “If we reflect the facts as they are, our lives are put at risk.”