After two days of unsettling silence, internet services have finally flickered back to life across Afghanistan. The sudden, sweeping blackout had brought the economy to a standstill, grounded flights, and fueled rampant speculation about its cause, leaving the nation in a state of anxious limbo.
The widespread internet outage, combined with a concurrent suspension of cellphone services, amplified a pervasive sense of dread and uncertainty among millions of Afghans. Already isolated by the stringent restrictions on individual freedoms imposed by the Taliban government, this digital cutoff deepened their struggles.
A notable absence of official communication from Taliban leaders, coupled with claims from within the government that they could explain neither the initial shutdown nor its abrupt restoration, only added to the confusion and frustration experienced by the populace.
“I want the government to make it clear: Why is the internet cut off? And how long will it last?” Aqa Gul Panjshiri, a trader dealing in food, care products, and cigarettes, vocalized his concern before services resumed on Wednesday.
Zabihullah Mujahid, the Taliban’s official spokesman, along with his deputy Hamdullah Fitrat, remained unresponsive to numerous requests for comment.
“I still don’t have the reason for the internet cutoff,” Inayatullah Alokozay, spokesman for the Afghan Ministry of Telecommunications, stated on Wednesday evening, emphasizing the lack of transparency.
While the precise reason for the blackout remained shrouded in mystery, its directive source appeared clearer. According to an international diplomatic assessment, corroborated by three former and current foreign officials in the region, the shutdown stemmed from a direct order by Afghanistan’s supreme leader, Sheikh Haibatullah Akhundzada.
This drastic measure followed just weeks after Mr. Akhundzada had previously ordered a partial internet crackdown that impacted roughly half of the country’s 34 provinces in mid-September.
Unlike previous restrictions where mobile internet largely remained functional, all forms of telecommunications abruptly ceased shortly after 5 p.m. on Monday. An Afghan telecommunications engineer, who spoke anonymously due to fear of reprisal, indicated this suggested a highly coordinated effort to sever the country’s digital ties.
Kabul, a bustling city of six million, fell into an unsettling quiet for two full days. Air travel was severely disrupted, with most flights to and from the airport canceled. Banks were forced to close, preventing countless individuals from accessing their monthly salaries or receiving vital remittances from family abroad – a critical lifeline for Afghanistan’s struggling economy.
Hundreds of thousands of girls, who have been banned from traditional schooling beyond sixth grade by the Taliban, found their lifeline to online education and the outside world completely severed.
Residents and foreign diplomats alike noted that despite the numerous restrictions the Taliban have enforced in recent years, none had ever reached the countrywide scale of this recent shutdown.
Historically, the Taliban had limited internet disruptions to brief, localized outages, such as those implemented in the capital, Kabul, immediately after their seizure of power to quell protests. They had also previously restricted access to certain platforms like TikTok and prevented content creators from posting on YouTube.
This renewed clampdown echoes the Taliban’s initial period in power, from 1996 to 2001, when internet use was outright banned. However, today’s Afghanistan presents a starkly different landscape. Smartphone adoption has surged alongside the expansion of 4G networks, making social media platforms, mobile money applications, and other online services integral to daily life for countless Afghans.
The complete digital shutdown sent shockwaves through Afghans both within the country and abroad, particularly impacting business owners striving to sustain Afghanistan’s fragile economy.
Mr. Panjshiri, the trader, reported being unable to track a container of goods valued at $150,000 or to receive payments from clients essential for his 15 employees’ salaries.
“After the takeover I trusted the government and I didn’t take my investment out of the country,” he lamented, “but now everything is confusing and I can’t make a decision.”
Senior foreign officials and diplomats stationed in the region condemned the internet shutdown as a reckless act. Humanitarian workers expressed significant challenges, highlighting how the blackout hampered their ability to respond to the aftermath of a recent earthquake that claimed over 2,200 lives, and to manage the accommodation of more than 2.7 million Afghans returning from Iran and Pakistan this year.
One senior humanitarian officer with an international organization revealed that the outage made it impossible to track field workers and ensure their safety. It’s a critical concern, given that the United Nations estimates half of Afghanistan’s 43 million people require humanitarian assistance.
For some Afghans, the internet shutdown escalated already life-threatening circumstances.
Jawad Mohammadi, 37, a resident of Mazar-i-Sharif in northern Afghanistan, had traveled to Kabul with his brother, who was suffering from severe kidney stones requiring immediate hospitalization and surgery. Mr. Mohammadi struggled desperately to secure funds from relatives while the internet remained down.
“The hospital refuses to proceed with the operation unless we pay in advance,” he stated, reflecting the dire situation.
Just as abruptly as it vanished, service resumed across the country. There was no official announcement, no explanation for the two-day silence.
As night fell in Kabul, the streets quickly filled with the familiar sounds of calls and the incessant buzz of notifications as residents reconnected with friends and family. Even Taliban government workers were seen stepping out of their offices, casually sitting on the grass, catching up on lost time on WhatsApp, the widely used communication platform among their members.
Mr. Mohammadi, relieved, confirmed he had finally been able to reach his family. “They will send the money tomorrow,” he said, a small beacon of hope in the wake of widespread disruption.