Human Rights

Human Rights or Cultural Imperialism? A Critical Examination of Western Interventions in Afghanistan

Human rights are universally acknowledged as essential for human dignity and social justice. However, the way they are defined, enforced, and exported has increasingly become a subject of critical debate, especially among scholars and observers from the Global South. While the ideal of protecting individuals from abuse and promoting freedom is noble, the selective and strategic application of human rights—primarily by Western nations—raises questions about their sincerity and true intentions. In many cases, human rights discourse is not just a moral language but a geopolitical tool, used by powerful states to shape or even dominate the internal affairs of weaker nations. This practice becomes particularly problematic when it involves imposing alien values on societies with entirely different historical, religious, and cultural foundations.

A powerful illustration of this phenomenon is Afghanistan, a country that has been at the center of international attention for decades. Following the Taliban’s return to power in 2021, the United States and its allies responded by imposing harsh economic sanctions, cutting off aid, and diplomatically isolating the regime—all in the name of defending women’s rights and basic freedoms. While these goals may sound laudable on the surface, the actual impact of such policies has been far from positive. Rather than pressuring the Taliban into change, these actions have crippled Afghanistan’s already fragile economy, plunged millions into poverty, and created even greater hardship for the very people the West claims to support—Afghan women and children.

The issue here is not the defence of women’s rights itself, but the manner in which such advocacy is pursued. Former Pakistani Prime Minister Imran Khan, in a 2021 interview with PBS News Hour, captured this dilemma succinctly. When asked about the Taliban’s treatment of women, Khan remarked: “You cannot impose human rights from abroad. You have to understand Afghan culture.” His statement drew criticism from some quarters in the West, but it reflects a truth that is often ignored in international policymaking. Societal transformation, especially in deeply traditional communities, cannot be imported or forced—it must emerge from within, through internal debate, education, and gradual reform that aligns with local values and identities.

This cultural insensitivity is not a new phenomenon. Long before the Taliban’s resurgence, Afghanistan had experienced cycles of externally driven "modernization" efforts, often led or backed by foreign powers. During the 1960s and 1970s, particularly in urban centres like Kabul, Afghan women began to enjoy increased rights, access to education, and participation in public life. However, these gains were uneven, largely limited to cities, and did not reflect the realities of the rural majority. The Saur Revolution of 1978, led by the communist People's Democratic Party of Afghanistan (PDPA), tried to push radical reforms, including mandatory education for girls and the banning of traditional practices such as forced marriage. But these reforms, though progressive in intention, were imposed abruptly and without public consensus, especially among rural and conservative populations. Resistance to these top-down policies contributed directly to the outbreak of civil war, which in turn invited Soviet intervention.

In response to the Soviet invasion in 1979, the United States, under the guise of supporting freedom fighters, funded and armed the Mujahideen—a loose alliance of Islamist groups. These groups, far from promoting Afghan traditions or moderate values, embraced radical ideologies often shaped in foreign religious schools and ideological centers. What emerged from this externally-sponsored jihad was a generation of militants who would later form the backbone of the Taliban. Ironically, the same United States that now criticizes Taliban repression once supported the ideological and military forces that laid the groundwork for their rise. The imposition of extremist ideologies in the name of anti-communism not only derailed Afghanistan’s cultural development but also planted the seeds of prolonged instability and social regression.

In this historical context, current Western interventions in the name of women's rights appear not only hypocritical but also strategically motivated. By focusing on Taliban abuses while ignoring human rights violations in allied nations—such as Saudi Arabia or Egypt—the West exposes its double standards. Such selectivity undermines the credibility of the human rights agenda and reveals that, often, these efforts are more about maintaining influence than about genuine humanitarian concern.

Moreover, Western strategies tend to overlook the complexity of Afghan society itself. Afghanistan is not a monolithic culture; it is a mosaic of ethnic, tribal, and religious traditions. In many rural areas, which comprise more than two-thirds of the country’s population, women's roles are shaped not merely by Taliban decrees but by longstanding cultural codes like Pashtunwali, traditional Islamic jurisprudence, and community-based honor systems. These deeply rooted structures cannot be dismantled by foreign sanctions or international pressure. Attempting to do so often backfires, fostering resistance and further entrenching conservative norms.

What is needed, therefore, is a different model of engagement—one that respects cultural sovereignty while promoting universal principles through dialogue, education, and mutual exchange. History shows that sustainable social change is most effective when it is organic and led by local actors. For instance, the advancement of women’s rights in Western societies was the result of long internal struggles, grassroots activism, and the slow evolution of public consciousness—not foreign intervention. Afghan women, too, have fought courageously for their rights. Over the past two decades, they have formed organizations, entered politics, and advocated for education and healthcare. Supporting these voices, rather than imposing foreign frameworks, is the only path to authentic empowerment.

Furthermore, philosophical traditions across the world—from Islamic ethics to Confucianism to African communalism—offer their own visions of human dignity, justice, and rights. The dominance of a Western, individualistic model in defining human rights sidelines these diverse perspectives and reinforces a kind of cultural hegemony. True universality should not mean uniformity. Rather, it should accommodate pluralism and recognize the legitimacy of different moral and legal traditions.

At its core, the misuse of human rights as a political weapon undermines the very values it claims to protect. When rights become tools of coercion rather than principles of cooperation, they lose their moral force. The case of Afghanistan reminds us that without cultural understanding, humility, and respect for local agency, international interventions are likely to fail. Worse, they may deepen the very injustices they aim to resolve.

If the international community genuinely wishes to promote human rights, particularly in conflict-affected societies, it must abandon the model of moral policing and embrace one of collaborative transformation. This means empowering local institutions, listening to community voices, and fostering regional partnerships based on equality, not hierarchy. It also requires self-reflection: acknowledging the West’s own complicity in creating the very crises it now seeks to solve—from backing militant groups to destabilizing governments for geopolitical advantage.

In conclusion, human rights must be reimagined not as instruments of domination, but as shared aspirations shaped by diverse histories and cultures. The people of Afghanistan, like all nations, have the right to define their future in ways that reflect their own values and experiences. Respecting that right is the first step toward a truly just and peaceful world.

In Picture-Afghanistan women before 1979