Afghanistan's internet shutdown under Taliban orders reveals a deepening authoritarian strategy to isolate the country and erase dissent from the global stage.
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| The Taliban’s complete shutdown of internet and telecoms across Afghanistan marks a strategic escalation of control, plunging the nation into digital silence. Image: CH |
Kabul, Afghanistan — September 30, 2025:
Afghanistan has entered a state of near-total disconnection from the world. Under orders from the Taliban government, the country is now facing a complete telecommunications blackout. Fibre-optic internet, mobile data networks, satellite TV, and even landline services have been severely disrupted or entirely shut down. The blackout, confirmed by international monitoring group NetBlocks, marks what experts are calling the most extensive and deliberate severing of digital access since the Taliban's return to power in 2021.
The government claims the shutdown is a moral necessity, aimed at curbing the spread of “immorality” online. But the context tells a different story. For weeks, Afghan citizens across several provinces have reported slowed or inaccessible internet services. These outages coincided with increasing domestic frustration over restrictions on education, civil liberties, and women's rights. The Taliban’s move to eliminate connectivity appears less about morality and more about eliminating avenues for protest, organizing, and global visibility.
The blackout is already having wide-ranging consequences. International media agencies, including the BBC and AFP, report losing contact with their offices in Kabul. Afghan broadcasters such as Tolo News warned of disruptions to radio and television services, and advised audiences to follow social channels—just before those channels went dark. Flights in and out of Kabul International Airport were suddenly canceled, with flight-tracking platforms and digital booking systems disrupted. Banking operations, already strained, are expected to stall as the workweek resumes without internet infrastructure.
Since returning to power, the Taliban have implemented a strict and expanding interpretation of Islamic Sharia law. Over the past month, they have removed books authored by women from university libraries, banned human rights education, and quietly shut down midwifery programs—the last vocational avenue available to many Afghan women. The latest blackout is a logical, if alarming, extension of these policies. By shutting down communication, the Taliban are removing the possibility of both local resistance and international witness.
In a post shared on social media, exiled journalist Hamid Haidari described the mood as “loneliness enveloping the entire country.” Former parliamentarian Mariam Solaimankhil, now based in the United States, called the silence from inside Afghanistan “deafening,” and appealed to global tech leaders like Elon Musk to respond to the crisis.
The Taliban have floated vague suggestions about building an “alternative route” to internet access, but no technical or logistical details have been offered. Observers believe any such alternative would involve heavy surveillance and strict content control, similar to models used by other authoritarian regimes. This shift toward tightly controlled networks would make Afghanistan a digital pariah state, comparable only to North Korea in its level of isolation.
This is not simply a case of censorship. It is a calculated strategy to render the population silent and invisible. With no internet, there is no reporting, no organizing, no outcry—only the version of reality sanctioned by the Taliban. It is a move to control not just what people can say, but whether their voices are heard at all.
Afghanistan’s blackout serves as a stark warning in the digital age. In many countries, the internet has become the last refuge of dissent, journalism, education, and connectivity. The Taliban have now extinguished that refuge. The longer the blackout continues, the harder it will be for the world to see what is happening inside Afghanistan—and the easier it becomes for repression to deepen unchallenged.
This blackout is not just about bandwidth or servers. It is about power—who holds it, who fears it, and who is cut off from it. And for the people of Afghanistan, already facing unprecedented restrictions, the silence now imposed on them may be the most devastating form of violence yet.