Trump orders review of all Biden-era refugee cases

This report is extremely shocking and upsetting. Today, Reuters reported that, according to a memo seen by the news agency, the Trump administration has instructed the U.S. Immigration Department to review all cases of immigrants who were accepted and entered the United States during the Biden administration. This order could apply to 233,000 immigrants who entered the U.S. between January 2021 and February 2025.

This is horrible news, as the Trump administration has already reduced the refugee admission cap. For example, in 2026, the admission cap is 7,500 people, allocated only to white South Africans.

During two years of field research in Washington, D.C., I met with newly arrived Hazara refugees who told me that they had spent between 2 to 7 years for their cases to be reviewed or processed. Most of these reviews are multi-layered. For instance, refugees from Turkey were first vetted by the Turkish government and NGOs. In the second stage, their cases were referred to the UNHCR, and in the final stage, to the U.S. Embassy, which passed them on to be vetted by U.S. security agencies such as USCIS and Homeland Security. 

This means the refugees have already undergone multiple instances of scrutiny and review beyond what is expected. It's unclear what this anti-refugee program is trying to find or what loophole it is trying to uncover that hasn't been seen before.

Now it has become clear that the reason why some refugees and immigrants who have been waiting for nearly four years to receive their Green Card and still haven't gotten it is due to the anti-refugee scheme that the current administration plans to implement.

This will further add to the sorrow and pain of refugees who have already endured. I can't help thinking of the intense psychological and emotional toll it would cause to thousands of families who have barely settled and have started their lives, hoping to enjoy a modicum of peace. What a cruel world we are living in. 

A perpetual fear and life for Hazaras under the Taliban

by Khadim Ali, a Hazara painter, source

For the Hazara people in Afghanistan, life has always been shadowed by a deep-seated dread. To be Hazara in this country is to live with a perpetual, gnawing anxiety, a kind of fear that has taken up residence in the back of your mind and never leaves. No matter the depth of your sacrifice or your willingness to lay down your life for your country, a persistent, haunting fear lingers on the horizon, tormenting your spirit constantly. That fear is a simple, devastating question: "Will the Pashtuns ever allow us to live in peace?" 

This is an existential fear, it strikes at the very core of one's right to exist.

This terror is now manifesting anew in the forced exodus of Hazaras from their ancestral lands, which has been going on since the Taliban's takeover of Afghanistan in August 2021. Since then, over 1,000 families have been evicted from their homes and villages. If we estimate an average family of 6, then 6,000 people have been forced out of their homes. That is still a conservative estimate. 

Recently, the Taliban issued a new ultimatum, this time to the Hazara community of Nowabad, a small yet densely populated area in Ghazni, home to over 18,000 families. The ultimatum says they must either abandon their homes, repurchase their homes, or pay rent to remain in their homes. 

The Taliban have declared the area "Emirate's land," a tactic they replicate wherever Hazaras live and wherever and whenever they want to forcefully remove them. It is a profound act of symbolic violence, in that they basically erase Hazaras' historical and cultural connection to the land, their own land. What anthropologists term as territorial alienation is a precursor to physical annihilation. This is ethno fascism in practice, and for the Hazaras, it always comes down to a choice between three impossible options, a tripartite trap from which they have never escaped.

This pattern is grimly familiar. In 1998, when the Taliban seized Mazar and launched their massacre of the Hazaras, they presented three conditions: leave Afghanistan, convert to Sunni Islam, or be ready to die. They proceeded to carry out both mass slaughter and forced displacement. It appears that the same engine of tribal fascism is now rolling forward once again, following its old, brutal tracks.

For the Hazaras, who were still savoring the sweet victory of the Afghanistani futsal team, mostly made up of Hazara boys, this new threat is a bitter drop in the cup of their joy. It feels like a sudden, cold wave, or a physical blow to the gut that instantly extinguishes any celebration, replacing it with the familiar grip of fear and pain. This is the precarious reality in which the Hazara people now find themselves.

For the Hazara, true peace remains an elusive dream in their own land.

Note: A version of this post was published in Farsi on my Farsi blog

Hazara's resistance: Playing for a country that tries to annihilate them

Amid Afghanistan's contemporary violent history, a different story is capturing hearts and minds, one not of conflict but of celebration. The Afghanistani U-17 boys' futsal team has won the championship of the 3rd Asian Youth Games in Bahrain.

This victory holds profound significance for Afghanistan, which is weary of violence. In a country deeply divided and ruled by the ethno-religious Taliban regime, such a moment fosters a rare and powerful sense of shared identity and national pride.

The achievement is particularly meaningful because the team is predominantly composed of Hazara athletes, an ethnic minority that has long faced systemic persecution and is currently experiencing an ongoing genocide under the de facto Taliban rule. One might assume that their success on an international stage indicates a degree of freedom and acceptance. But the reality is more complex.

First, some of these players are refugees living in Iran; some may have never set foot in Afghanistan. So, in some way, it is a diasporic achievement. Futsal is a popular sport within the Hazara diaspora in Iran. In post-9/11 Afghanistan, upon their return from Iran, refugees brought their skills with them. For international competitions, players are often selected from refugee communities, sent to Afghanistan for bureaucratic formalities, and then dispatched to the competition. But in U-17, I heard from a friend that several team members were chosen from the poor neighborhood of Dasht-e Barchi, west of Kabul. In essence, the national futsal team relies on Hazara players; excluding them would mean having no team at all.

This triumph is now shadowed by a grave concern: Hazara advocates worldwide fear the Iranian government may retaliate by deporting the players and their families. Iran has already forcibly returned over 1.5 million refugees, predominantly Hazaras, to Afghanistan this year. These deportations have been justified by baseless accusations of espionage for Israel, a scapegoat narrative Iran employs following its military embarrassments in 12 days of war with Israel.

Furthermore, this victory is a crucial act of visibility for the Hazara people, who are otherwise entirely marginalized within Afghanistan, even as the Taliban may attempt to claim credit for their success. But the interesting thing is that these boys did not compete under the Taliban flag, which is white, but under the former flag of Afghanistan and its national anthem. The Taliban may claim some credit but it does not mean affirming their cruel state project. It would rather be symbolized as what James Scott calls "weapons of the weak," forcing the Taliban to appreciate the ethnic group they marginalize.

Despite facing systemic discrimination from the Pashtun majority and other groups, the Hazara people have consistently been at the forefront of Afghanistani sports, demonstrating a profound patriotism that stands in stark contrast to the injustice they endure. This legacy includes Afghanistan's first Olympic medal, won by a Hazara athlete, Rohullah Nikpai, in 2008, and a second in 2012.

The commerce of suffering

During the chaotic withdrawal of American forces from Afghanistan in August 2021, thousands of people stormed the Kabul airport. In a desperate attempt to escape the Taliban, some climbed onto a moving military cargo aircraft on the runway. At least two individuals fell from the sky, and one became trapped in the plane's wheel. A video taken by a cellphone from inside the plane shows a lifeless body and its limbs swaying violently in the wind at a high altitude. It was later reported that human remains were found lodged within the aircraft's wheels.

Just days later, a gun store in Auckland, New Zealand, began selling T-shirts emblazoned with the words "Kabul Skydiving Club." Beneath the text was an image of two people who had fallen from the plane, captured in their fatal descent.

At the same time, these same T-shirts were sold on the Etsy website in America. Today, I came across the picture of those shirts again, so I looked them up online to see if they still exist or are being sold. Today, I discovered that identical T-shirts, though without the image of the falling individuals, are still being sold on a website called "American Triggers Pullers." Who truly wants to wear these T-shirts? What must they be feeling?

After seeing the images of those t-shirts, it felt like a wound in my soul was torn open anew. It was a stark reminder of our profound suffering and how our experiences and traumas are stripped of their context and transformed into tokens to be sold. 

Ah, what a world we are living in! Our pain and suffering have been commodified, transformed into garments for others to wear and enjoy. Our agony is frozen into images and sold for profit, enabling people to build capital and indulge in pleasure. Our anguish becomes a pretext for mockery and scorn. Our misery fuels companies' profits, ensuring the chariot of capitalism never ceases its movement and our blood has become the lubricating grease for its wheels.

How seeds of greed are planted in children

Yesterday, I saw Amir my newphew's homework. The title of one of his readings was "Needs and Wants." He had answered one of the questions incorrectly. The question was, "What did you learn in paragraph 4?" It was a multiple-choice question. Amir chose, "Life is hard without a phone." 

But the correct answer was: "Wants can make life easier and more fun."
Implicitly what it says is that your personal desires (wants) are a legitimate pathway to happiness and an easy life.

This is the textbook example of cultivating a culture of greed. It is deliberate conditioning of children towards perpetual wanting. The entire edifice of capitalism is built on this very foundation: to become an endless consumer, fulfilling desires. 

Now, think about it. a 10-year-old boy, who understands very little about wanting and having, implicitly being told/taught that happiness and enjoyment are synonymous with possessions. This is how the seeds of greed are planted. How can I explain this to a refugee child that material possessions do not bring happiness and do not make life easier? How can I explain that contentment is the source of happiness and generosity makes life easier, and that materialistic values are ephemeral and sources of unhappiness? 

Welcome to the world of capitalism and greed.

Afghanistan's internet blackout and the anatomy of fascism

For the past few days, I have not been able to talk to my family members, and like me, thousands of diaspora Afghanistanis have not been able to speak to their loved ones.

Two days ago, the Taliban, an ethno-religious fascist group, imposed a wholesale internet blackout in Afghanistan. First, they severed the fiber-optic internet connection, and then yesterday, they shut down the telecommunication.

So, why did the Taliban shut down the internet in the entire country?

This act of digital authoritarianism is clearly linked to the core tenets of historical fascism. To grasp it, let's do an autodidactic practice. Copy and paste the following questions one by one on Google and press enter, and see what comes up.

What constitutes the core of fascism? What is fascism, anyway? What is the goal of a fascist system?

Whatever answer you get, you will learn that one of the key features of fascist regimes is relying on controlling information to suppress citizens and cement their centralized control.

The Taliban is a fascist group based on a Pashtun-ethnonationalist agenda, which at the core promotes an exclusive "Afghanness" (a euphemism for Pashtun supremacy) and a Pashtun tribal form of Sunni Islam. Controlling and restricting the internet has no reason other than keeping the people in the dark and severing their connection with the outside world. This way, it is easier to control and govern them.

Now, the media has reported that the reason for the internet blackout, according to the Taliban, is "morality." Morality from the Taliban's point of view is: anti-woman, anti-religious and ethnic minorities, anti-Hazara, anti-education, anti-modern values, anti-human rights—basically anti-anything they had not seen in the caves and mountains over the past few decades. Some commentators, clinging to civility, describe the Taliban as merely an extreme group. The raw reality, however, is that this is a terror group that descended from the mountains and caves.

So, what does the Taliban's "morality" look like? It is a heinous strategy used as a tool for social engineering. By implementing their own "morality," they want to create a specific moral subject, one whose worldview, interactions, and consciousness are being shaped solely by the Taliban's ideology.

September 25 Hazara Genocide Remembrance Day

A report dated 10/19/1893 records that
Amir Abdul Rahman Khan sold 10,000
captive Hazaras as slaves.

September 25 of each year marks the remembrance of the Hazara genocide. Social media platforms such as X (formerly known as Twitter) and Facebook are flooded with commemorative messages from Hazara users using #StopHazaraGenocide. Today marks September 25, 1893, when the blood thirsty Amir Abdul Rahman Khan issued a decree in which he announced the Hazaras as infidels to be annihilated entirely. In his book, Siraj-al Tawarikh, Faiz Muhammad Katib, the official historian of the court of Kabul and a Hazara himself, records that more than 60 percent of the Hazaras were killed, enslaved, and displaced. According to Katib, more than 400,000 Hazara households (khanwar) were killed, enslaved, and displaced. If we consider an average household of 6 people, 2.4 million Hazaras had vanished, and their lands were usurped by Pashtuns, as Amir called the bounty of war. 

September 25 marks a day of remembrance for Hazaras as a collective and distinct cultural and ethnic group, recognizing that the past is not a static fact but an active process that shapes the lives of Hazaras today and in the future. The Hazaras have been experiencing genocide since then, and it continues. Have a look at this extensive report by the New Line Institute on September 1, 2025, about the ongoing genocide of the Hazaras under the de facto regime of the Taliban.

Through this calendrical ritual, the Hazaras are attempting to understand their past, which is so deeply ingrained that it will continue to impact their future. Transforming a historical event into an annual recurring practice will reinforce the Hazara group's solidarity, and it represents a crucial first step in understanding what happened in the 1890s and its subsequent consequences. 

September 25 Hazara genocide remembrance is happening almost entirely online. Digital content such as writing stories, creating art, and music videos, and organizing spaces where the Hazara genocide is being discussed are all marked under the hashtag #StopHazaraGenocide, which has so far garnered more than 50 million tweets. This means that the traditional spaces of remembrance (which used to be in masjid and minbar) are moved to a new space. There is now a diasporic public sphere in which Hazaras worldwide participate, engage, and strengthen their transnational Hazara identity. This synchronized effort, initiated in the aftermath of the Enlightenment Movement, will continue to strengthen the global community of Hazaras. 

How to explain the meaning of "citizen" to a 6th grader?

My nephew Amir is ten years old and in the sixth grade. Yesterday, during a WhatsApp call, he asked me what the meaning of "citizen" is. What does it mean to be a good citizen?

I said it depends on the angle from which you look at the meaning of "citizen." Before we become citizens, we are human beings. Then, when governments want to subjugate people, they impose a series of submissive and controlling systems on people to make them obedient and docile. This means that not only do they have to pay their taxes on time, but if the government wants to resort to violence against its own citizens or wage war against another nation, it asks them to fight for the government. In short, they become a handy tool for the government because they serve the government's purpose. This is the meaning of a good citizen from the government's perspective.

Since we are living in a capitalist world, there is another definition of a citizen that you need to know. From the perspective of companies and the corporate world that are controlled by one percent, an ordinary citizen is worthless; a good citizen is the one who consumes the most.

"How?" he asks.

For example, from the perspective of corporations, you are not a good citizen when you use your legs and walk to school every day. (This is directly related to Amir's request that he made a few days ago. He has asked his mom to buy him an electric scooter so that he can commute between home and school.) 

"Why?" Amir asks, using only one-word sentences.

Because you are a healthy person. When you buy an electric scooter, the companies that produced that scooter are happy. The money your dad or mom earns goes directly into the pockets of the bankers and people who invest in that scooter. Their pockets get fatter while your mom and dad's pockets get emptier. And that's not the end of the story. When you are commuting the 15-minute walking distance from home to school on an electric scooter, over time you get fatter, lazier, and more bored, then one day the scooter may get out of your control or break, and you fall to the ground because you are too heavy. Your body may break in two or three places. You need to visit the doctor, and you will have to pay a significant amount of money for surgery and medication. It's not just the banks and corporations that are happy and think you're the best citizen, but the pharmaceutical companies, the insurance companies, the hospitals, the doctors, and the companies that are built to profit from your sick body, they are all happy because you have to pay for all these expenses, which of course falls on your mom and dad. At this point, you become the best citizen.

Oh, wait, I forgot to add. You sometimes crave soda and fast food, which are all unhealthy because they are processed and they're full of sugar, fat, and salt. They make you sick. You get heart disease or diabetes and dozens of other diseases. The more you consume, the more you become dependent on it. The more unhealthy you become, the more you are loved not only by fast food industries but also by doctors, hospitals, and pharmaceutical companies. Because you're paying them money and becoming their customer.

Do you know who is the worst citizen for these people and companies? I ask.

"No. Who is it?" he asks.

A healthy person. Someone who uses his legs walks every day to school. Someone who plays soccer for at least an hour or two a day. Someone who drinks water or tea instead of soda. Someone who eats his mom's food instead of burgers, pizza, chips, and junk food.

As I see it on my screen, a demure calmness envelops his round, innocent face, which I'm unsure is a result of satisfaction or confusion etched on it. I say, "Azizm (my dear), I have to go." I say goodbye to him. His little hand waves on the screen as I pressed the end call button.

Hazaras and their enthusiasm as a weapon against evil

Below is an image that went viral on social media among Afghanistanis. It shows a group of Hazara doctors volunteers from Dasht-e Barchi, a Hazara neighborhood in the West of Kabul, on board a helicopter bound for Kunar. The yellow barrel in front of them is filled with donated blood of Hazaras to the earthquake victims in Kunar, who are all Pashtuns. This is just from one group of Hazara doctors. Looking at this photo and the faces of these Hazara doctors who are going to save the Pashtuns makes me ask, what drives them to such unbridled enthusiasm for Pashtuns who are hostile to them? This happens in the backdrop of the ongoing genocidal campaign against the Hazara people by the Taliban, who are the Pashtuns. How can one absorb this contradiction? There is more to it, though.

image source: from social media

Now, this selfless act of Hazara doctors is both paradoxical and sad. This week, the Taliban decided to transfer the equipment of the only hospital that remained functional in Dasht-e Barchi, the Hazara neighborhood, to district 12, in eastern Kabul, which is predominantly occupied by Pashtuns. This happens despite the repeated pleas from residents of Dasht-e Barchi. Mohammad Ali Jinnah Hospital in Dasht-e Barchi, west of Kabul, was built with Pakistani aid and became functional in 2019. Removing necessary equipment from the hospital is detrimental because it directly hampers patient care and causes operational inefficiencies. 

Muhammad Ali Jinnah Hospital in the west of Kabul. Image source: social media

Afghanistan earthquake: men are saved while women left under rubble

A second earthquake brought more devastation to Afghanistanis in the Southern part of the country. Now the death toll has passed 1,400, and nearly 4,000 or more are injured. On September 3rd, I wrote a blog post about how "Afghan" women -I mean Pashtun women - are buried twice, once by natural earthquake, a second time by Pashtun men. The next day, on September 4th, an article in the New York Times by Fatima Faizi detailed the same concerns I had expressed the day before. 

The summary of the article is that women die under the rubble while men are saved. The reason why women are still under the rubble or remain under the rubble is that their male mahrams (lawful individuals or members of close family) are all lost and dead under the rubble, and there is no mahram left to save their women. On the other hand, the male rescuers who come from the village and the surrounding areas are not mahrams and by Pashtun tradition are not allowed to get close to women who are already dead or still alive, or those who are injured and remain under the rubble. Here is a quote:

In the village of Andarluckak, in Kunar Province, the emergency team hurriedly carried out wounded men and children, and treated their wounds, said Ms. Aysha, 19. But she and other women and adolescent girls, some of them bleeding, were pushed aside, she said. “They gathered us in one corner and forgot about us,” she said. No one offered the women help, asked what they needed or even approached them.

She cites a woman where an injured woman is waiting for help by the wall, but no one is willing to approach her.

In a war-torn, afflicted country like Afghanistan, while everyone is dying of hunger, an ignorant and brute group that descended from mountains and caves now controls the country, tries to enforce the Pashtun tradition on everybody else in the country. On the one hand, hunger, poverty, and misery wreak havoc; on the other hand, natural disasters such as earthquakes and floods, and now the Taliban has been added to it. Crisis upon crisis. The Taliban themselves are a serious catastrophe, and implementing the Pashtun tradition on other ethnic groups in Afghanistan is another disaster and crisis.

Buried twice: women and earthquake

According to Reuters, the estimated death toll of the earthquake in southeastern Afghanistan has exceeded 1,400, and more than 3,100 injuries. It is heartbreaking to see this much pain in an already afflicted country, stretched resources, on top of a political crisis that has been ravaging since the Taliban takeover. But the saddest part of this earthquake is that women, girls, and children are the immediate victims. While earthquakes don't discriminate between their victims, society does. 

I observed dozens of videos and photos taken by people on the scene or journalists who had visited the disaster-stricken area. In all photographs, men are rushing to recover bodies of men from under rubble, from trapped alcoves, or men who are injured, and then they are rushed to the helicopter and vehicles, but women are nowhere to be seen in the photos. Perhaps, they are not photographed due to the Pashtun strict cultural tradition towards women, or perhaps, they are being helped but not photographed. I don't know, but I have a hunch from seeing the photos and videos that women are the immediate victims of this kind of catastrophe because they are inside the house who take care of children, while men are mostly outside due to the gendered division of labor. 

At the end, I wonder, what happens to women who are under rubble? I feel strict Pashtun cultural norms hurt their women even in times of crisis.

Four years after Kabul fell: remembering Hazara struggle and survival

Afghanistan's modern history is shaped by significant violent events, wars, coups, and foreign invasions. One such event took place on August 15, 2021. On this day, Ashraf Ghani fled the country without notifying his cabinet and security apparatus, and so, he let the Taliban take over without any fight.

Today marks the 4th year of the fall of Kabul to the hands of the Taliban. Though outwardly bloodless in its first hours, what followed in the coming days was nothing but a bloody, violent takeover. 

 It is a dark day by any measure. The fall of Afghanistan brought an abrupt end to the Hazara's liberation, a period that brought a brief respite to their relentless persecution and genocide.

Today, Hazaras are being completely excluded from politics, barred from participating in government programs, contracts, and barred even from occupying menial jobs in their own districts and principalities. Thousands of Hazara families are being evicted from their villages and homes; instead, their properties and lands are given to Pashtun nomads (Kochis) loyal to the Taliban. Three weeks ago, the Taliban forcefully evicted 25 Hazara families from their ancestral lands and gave their lands to Pashtun nomads. 

The Hazara persecution has been going on for a while, but under the Taliban, it took a different shape. A large group of people were forcibly displaced and their lands and properties confiscated. In another instance, the Taliban and their Pashtun allies resorted to extortion. Claiming damages to their sheep and goats four or five decades ago in order to claim ransom. Many villages are emptied simply because they could not afford the ransom and could not survive the persecution.

On a more optimistic note: yes, it is a dark day for Hazara men and women and children who are stripped of opportunities, but there is hope for the next Hazara generation. Children of Hazaras are inheritors of their ancestral resilience and survival. They will learn that even in the face of a genocidal campaign and endless discrimination, Hazaras' memory, culture, and the demands for justice will never be erased.

Hazara forced displacement and genocide in Afghanistan

American anthropologist Louis Dupree, in the early 1980s, coined the term "migratory genocide" in reference to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan and the subsequent displacement of hundreds of thousands of Afghanistani refugees to neighboring countries. His point was that the Soviet invasion had caused the forced displacement of the local population. In other words, Soviet forces deliberately employed military tactics to make people abandon their homes. 

Now, the Taliban are doing precisely what the Soviets did, even worse than that but they are doing it against the Hazaras people. Recently, in the Panjab district in Bamiyan province, the Taliban forcibly evicted 25 Hazara families from their homes, essentially imposing forced displacement. Since August 2021, more than a thousand families in different regions of Hazaristan (or Hazarajat) have been forcibly displaced from their homes and villages.

This is a clear example of the same "migratory genocide" or what could also be called "forced displacement genocide." 

What is homeland? an Iraqi poem

My early education began with poetry recitation. And so goes the answer when people have asked me, so far, what made me interested in poetry. There is a grain of truth in it but that is a whole different story that I need to write later. But now, an Iraqi poem.

I first heard this poem in Farsi, not Arabic, a long time ago in Iran. We were refugees. I was attending a poetry gathering when a young Hazara poet stepped up to the podium and said, “Today I’d like to read a poem by an Iraqi poet.” I don’t remember if he mentioned the poet’s name, or whether it was even his own composition, but what he said stayed with me.

I listened intently. The poem deeply resonated with the Hazara people, those who have been driven from their homeland, Hazaristan. It captured the sorrow of exile and the search for a meaningful way to express that longing. The version he read had already been translated into Farsi. As he recited it, something about the rhythm and emotion drew me in more and more, and before long, I had memorized it. That kind of memory fades with time and place; I can no longer hear a poem and commit it to memory so easily. But I repeated this one to myself so often that it became etched in my mind.

I still don’t know the title of the poem, nor the poet’s name, only that it is an Iraqi poem. I hope someday I will find the original Arabic version. So, here is my translation of the poem into English.

One day, my mother said:
Children,
A riddle:
What is it whose inhabitants are made of wood?
And whose shell is a provision
For every passerby?

My sister said:
"A date."

My mother, laughing,
Embraced her.

But I,
I wept and said:
"My homeland."

مادرم روزی گفت

بچه ها

یک معما

آن چیست که ساکنانش چوبند

و پوسته اش توشه ای است

برای هر رهگذری؟

خواهرم گفت

خرماست

مادرم خنده کنان

او را در آغوش گرفت

و من اما

گریستم

و گفتم میهنم

The end of VOA

It seems Voice of America is finally close to being completely dismantled. Two days ago, a federal court in Washington, D.C., declared it would not intervene with presidential decisions. This means the court case that the Voice of America filed is no longer relevant. It is sad to see that VOA is going entirely, but it is probably good if the network is reshuffled and rebuilt, say, if it happens to return in four or so years from now. 

The Afghanistan section was a total propaganda, the network did not have a good reputation in the past either, but in the aftermath of the US troop withdrawal and subsequent takeover of Afghanistan by the Taliban, VOA both Dari and Pashto sections shifted their narratives and ways of covering the news to cater the Taliban's ideology. In other words, VOA was sliding towards becoming the mouthpiece of the extreme ideology of the Taliban from afar with the US taxpayers' money. During my fieldwork, I talked to two employees, both females, and both complained about the way they were forced to censor themselves. "It is stifling," one of them told me when complaining about the ways in which she was forced to write the news bulletin.

But it may be good for humanity. Whatever the outcome, the future will be different. Whatever and whoever, in whatever form and organization, VOA re-emerges, it will not be the same as it was in the hands of ethnonationalists.