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The writer is a public policy analyst based in Lahore. She can be reached at durdananajam1@gmail.com
For decades, Afghanistan has been explained through wars — the Soviet invasion, the civil war, the US intervention, the Taliban’s return. Yet beneath these dramatic chapters lies a quieter, older tension that has shaped the country’s political life: the unresolved question of ethnicity and power.
Afghanistan’s instability did not begin with foreign troops, nor will it end simply with their departure. It is rooted in how the state was formed, who came to dominate it and how other communities experienced that dominance.
The foundations of modern Afghanistan were laid in the 18th century under Ahmad Shah Abdali. His consolidation of Pashtun tribes and expansion of territory marked the birth of Afghanistan as a political entity. It was a remarkable achievement in a time of regional upheaval. But it was also a state shaped by the realities of its moment — tribal loyalty, military strength and Pashtun leadership.
That historical beginning left a lasting imprint.
Afghanistan has always been multi-ethnic. Pashtuns form the largest group, followed by Tajiks. Hazaras, Uzbeks and smaller communities such as Turkmen, Baloch, Aimaq, Pashai and Nuristanis complete the country’s rich but complex mosaic. These identities are not symbolic; they are geographic and deeply rooted. Pashtuns have traditionally dominated the south and east. Tajiks are concentrated in the northeast and urban centres. Uzbeks inhabit the north. Hazaras largely reside in the central highlands.
For much of Afghanistan’s history, political authority radiated from Kabul unevenly. The central government often exercised firm control in major cities while negotiating with local power holders in peripheral regions. In practice, Afghanistan functioned less as a tightly centralised state and more as a delicate balancing arrangement among regional actors.
Over time, however, a perception solidified: that the Afghan state was disproportionately controlled by Pashtun elites. From monarchies to republics, key positions of authority frequently remained in Pashtun hands. Even the term “Afghan” historically referred to Pashtuns, creating a linguistic overlap between national identity and one ethnic group. For Tajiks, Hazaras and Uzbeks, this blurred line sometimes reinforced feelings of exclusion.
Yet Afghanistan’s history cannot be reduced to a simple narrative of domination. There were periods of coexistence, cooperation and shared resistance against external threats. Ethnic leaders from various communities shaped national politics at different times. The anti-Soviet jihad, for instance, saw commanders from multiple ethnic backgrounds emerge as central figures.
Still, moments of crisis repeatedly exposed the fragility of ethnic balance.
The civil war of the 1990s hardened communal lines. When the Taliban first rose to power, their leadership was overwhelmingly Pashtun, drawing support from southern Afghanistan. Opposition forces in the north were largely Tajik, Uzbek and Hazara. Ethnic geography became intertwined with military frontlines.
After 2001, the internationally backed political order sought to build a democratic Afghanistan that reflected its diversity. Elections were introduced and power-sharing arrangements attempted to accommodate different groups. Yet ethnic arithmetic became an enduring feature of governance. Cabinet posts, security appointments and provincial positions were often distributed with careful attention to communal balance. The system managed tensions but rarely dissolved them.
The collapse of the republic in 2021 and the Taliban’s return reopened old debates. Critics argue that insufficient ethnic inclusivity risks repeating historical mistakes. Supporters of the current authorities insist that stability and security must come first. Beneath this debate lies a more fundamental question: can Afghanistan’s political structure genuinely represent its diversity?
Ethnic fault lines also intersect with regional geopolitics. Tajiks share linguistic and cultural ties with Tajikistan. Uzbeks have affinities with Uzbekistan. Pashtuns straddle the border with Pakistan. These cross-border connections have repeatedly shaped political alignments and security concerns. Instability in one Afghan region often reverberates beyond its borders.
Compounding this challenge is the security dimension. Weak and fragmented governance at various points in Afghanistan’s history has allowed militant networks to operate in different parts of the country. While militancy cannot be explained solely through ethnicity, divisions have complicated the development of a unified and consistent state response.
It is in this context that some analysts have floated the idea of territorial restructuring – aligning borders more closely with ethnic majorities. The argument is that smaller, more homogeneous political units might reduce competition for central control and improve local governance. Critics warn that redrawing borders would likely create new conflicts, displacement and regional instability.
The more viable path may lie not in fragmentation but in meaningful inclusion. Genuine decentralisation, equitable representation and constitutional safeguards for minority rights could help ease the zero-sum competition for control of Kabul. When power is overly concentrated, every political shift becomes existential. When authority is shared, political life becomes less combustible.
Afghanistan’s ethnic fault lines are real. They have shaped its history and disturbed its political ecosystem for generations. But they do not have to define its future.
The country’s challenge is not simply to defend its borders, nor to redraw them, but to ensure that all communities see themselves reflected within the state. Stability will not come from suppressing identity, nor from privileging one group over another. It will come from a political framework that recognises diversity as a strength rather than a threat.
Afghanistan has endured empire, occupation and civil war. Its most enduring struggle, however, has been internal — the search for a political order that feels shared.
Until that balance is found, the fault lines beneath the Afghan flag will remain. The real task is not to deny them, but to build a state strong enough — and inclusive enough — to bridge them.
