A collective sigh of relief echoed across Afghanistan on Wednesday as internet access finally flickered back to life, ending a two-day nationwide blackout that had profoundly paralyzed the nation. The unexpected shutdown of both internet and cellphone services had plunged millions into uncertainty, disrupting everything from commerce to crucial family connections.
Afghan officials offered no immediate explanation for either the sudden outage or its equally abrupt resolution. This silence only amplified the existing anxieties among a populace already living under the Taliban government’s drastic restrictions on personal freedoms, implemented since their 2021 takeover. For many, the past 48 hours felt like a deeper dive into isolation, as most Afghans still had no idea why their digital world had gone dark.
“I still don’t have the reason for the internet cut off,” stated Inayatullah Alokozay, the spokesperson for the Afghan ministry of telecommunications, mirroring the widespread lack of information.
This extensive communications shutdown followed a previous order by the country’s leader, Sheikh Haibatullah Akhundzada, on September 16, which initiated an internet crackdown across roughly half of the country’s 34 provinces. While mobile internet had initially remained available during that period, the recent event on Monday took all forms of telecommunications completely offline, affecting even previously untouched areas.
Kabul, a bustling city of six million, fell into an unsettling quiet. Security forces patrolled key areas, while government employees and ordinary citizens alike were left bewildered by the unprecedented disruption. Banks ceased operations, public services like passport and ID card issuance ground to a halt, and countless businesses faced immense losses. Tragically, hundreds of thousands of girls, already denied in-person education by the Taliban, found their online learning lifeline severed, cutting them off from the world entirely.
The blackout also created dire, life-threatening situations for some. Jawad Mohammadi, 37, a resident from Mazar-a-Sharif in northern Afghanistan, had traveled to Kabul with his brother, who was critically ill with severe kidney stones and urgently needed hospitalization. Desperate to gather funds from relatives for an immediate surgery, Mohammadi found himself helpless. “The hospital refuses to proceed with the operation unless we pay in advance,” he despaired, highlighting the severe human impact. “I have no other options and don’t know what to do.”