The Emotional Impact of the Fall of Kabul
by Chiara Sulmoni
This is a piece I wrote in Italian in the immediate aftermath of the fall of Kabul, on 15th August 2021. Five years on, I felt the need to translate it into English, realising that for so many men and women, the wound has never truly healed.
In recent weeks, much has been said about the political, military and security implications of the Taliban’s takeover of Kabul and the country as a whole. Less visible and less widely discussed, but no less important, is the emotional impact of the Taliban’s forceful and pervasive return to the scene.
This is an extraordinarily difficult reality for Afghans to process, but also for those who have maintained ties with the country or spent years reporting on it. The same is true for military veterans.
During these days of evacuations, aid workers, journalists, academics, soldiers, Afghans living abroad, and people with all kinds of personal and professional connections to the country have received heartbreaking messages and desperate pleas for help. Many have mobilised to support those who feel they are in danger, often without being able to find a way out.
Many people, including some facing a serious and immediate threat to their lives, have been left behind. We can certainly feel relieved and grateful for those who are now able to sleep more peacefully. But that relief is inevitably bittersweet when we think of those who still face the night with fear and uncertainty.
And there is another reality we cannot ignore: an exodus on this scale cannot be considered a success, given the long-term consequences it will have for the country.
More broadly, despite the Taliban’s repeated assurances of moderation and reconciliation—which appear increasingly at odds with reality—fear is widespread, particularly among the Hazara minority and women.
The emotional impact is especially profound for an entire generation that was born and raised during the past twenty years. Despite all the limitations and failures of this period, they experienced a degree of openness to the world and were given the opportunity to pursue dreams and build lives that would once have seemed unimaginable.
For so many young Afghans—from activists to students, journalists to entrepreneurs, from those who worked for the government and devoted themselves to the country’s security and reconstruction, to those employed by international organisations, and those who fought tirelessly through numerous local NGOs for rights and a better future—the disappointment, bewilderment, anger, sense of abandonment and despair are profound and deeply unsettling.
It is often pointed out that two decades of Western presence primarily benefited urban communities, while remote and rural areas experienced far less of this transformation. In fact, many people in those areas may have felt more acutely the absence of a strong government, including when it came to providing basic services.
And yet, these young people—many of whom returned to Afghanistan from abroad with a dream and the determination to pursue it—represented the foundations for something that could have become a truly Afghan reconstruction: a process led by Afghans themselves, built over time and rooted in the country’s own society. Such a transformation cannot be achieved within a single generation. It is a long process, and it should have been protected and supported.
Now the Taliban will have to govern. But their hostility towards those who had already been working in these fields—people who possess the skills, expertise, education and networks needed to contribute, but who have now left the country—combined with the restrictions imposed through the application of Sharia law, makes this task extraordinarily complicated and difficult.
Another major concern is that the window for freedom of expression may soon close as well. An independent and diverse media landscape was one of the significant success stories of the past twenty years, with hundreds of television channels, radio stations and newspapers emerging across the country.
The very real fear now is that we will hear less and less from inside Afghanistan, while Afghans themselves will have fewer and fewer media outlets available to them that are not exclusively religious in character. The transformation is already underway.
Let us not leave Afghanistan alone.
A confrontation between Russia and NATO? It is a (dangerous) risk Moscow has failed to factor in.
by Claudio Bertolotti.
Vladimir Putin’s recent statements from the Pacific, where the Russian president threatened retaliation in the event of the seizure of Russian merchant vessels and raised the prospect of a confrontation with NATO, come at a time of growing military and strategic pressure on Russia. Almost simultaneously, Ukraine intensified its attacks against targets in Crimea and the port of Novorossiysk, claiming what it described as an “unprecedented” operation and arguing that it had substantially undermined Russia’s ability to use Crimea as a naval base.
These are distinct events, but they are not necessarily unrelated, because the central question is whether they represent different segments of the same escalatory dynamic.
Looking at the scenario now taking shape, I do not believe that the latest developments indicate a greater Russian willingness to enter into conflict with NATO. On the contrary, I would start from the opposite assumption: Moscow does not want a direct war with the Alliance, because it is well aware of the costs, risks and, above all, the unpredictability involved. The problem, however, is that many of the moves Russia is making seem to be pushing it precisely in the direction it would rather avoid. And this, in my view, is the most worrying aspect.
Putin’s statements on the possible seizure of Russian merchant vessels should therefore be interpreted from this perspective. They are not necessarily the prelude to a decision to confront NATO, but rather an attempt to restore a deterrent capacity that Moscow perceives as being progressively eroded. From this perspective, I believe the message is intended to be: “if you strike our interests, we will broaden the geographical and operational space in which we are prepared to respond.” But this is precisely where the risk emerges.
Ukrainian attacks against Crimea and, above all, Novorossiysk reinforce this dynamic, because Kyiv is progressively reducing Russia’s areas of operational security in the Black Sea. Sevastopol has become far more vulnerable, and part of Russia’s naval capabilities has been relocated to Novorossiysk. Striking the latter as well is therefore an attempt to demonstrate that there is no longer any genuinely secure rear area for the Black Sea Fleet.
This does not mean that Russia has “lost” Crimea in military terms. That would be a serious analytical mistake, because despite the strong emotional impact of these events, Russia continues to retain the tactical advantage across the various fronts of the battlefield. The peninsula remains essential as a logistical, air and missile platform, even though its role as a naval sanctuary has been seriously compromised. And when a major power sees its room for manoeuvre narrowing, it tends to seek compensation elsewhere. It is an almost linear, predictable balancing mechanism.
This is where I would connect the Ukrainian attacks with Putin’s words. Not through an immediate cause-and-effect relationship, but through a broader dynamic of action, reaction and compensation. Ukraine increases pressure in the Black Sea, while Moscow, for its part, seeks to broaden the scope of its deterrence by threatening retaliation even far beyond that theatre. The conflict thus tends to expand geographically even though none of the main actors declares an intention to broaden it politically.
And here the paradox becomes apparent: Russia does not want to provoke NATO in order deliberately to drag it into war; yet, in attempting to demonstrate that it is not vulnerable, it multiplies the opportunities for a confrontation with an Alliance member to occur — an intercepted vessel, a military escort intervening, an action interpreted as hostile, a disproportionate response, or a miscalculation.
For this reason, I would be cautious about simply stating that “the chances of a Russia-NATO war are increasing.” What is increasing is not necessarily the political willingness to fight such a war, but rather the probability that conditions may emerge in which it could begin without ever having been consciously chosen.
And this is perhaps the most serious aspect because, as the historical study of conflict teaches us, wars do not always begin because someone consciously decides to start them. They can also emerge from a succession of individually rational decisions which, when combined, produce an outcome that is irrational as a whole.
And today we are seeing something similar: Moscow is trying to avoid appearing weak; Kyiv is trying to increase Russia’s vulnerability; European countries are seeking to further restrict Russia’s economic and maritime room for manoeuvre. In short, everyone is trying to control the escalation, while at the same time contributing to it.
The point, therefore, is not that Putin wants a war with NATO. The point is that Russia continues to make moves that may bring it closer to such a war without actually wanting it, and perhaps without being fully capable of controlling the process it is setting in motion. It is precisely this progressive loss of control over escalation — rather than a deliberate intention to seek confrontation — that should concern us most.
