Neglect and Isolation Leave Afghanistan Defenseless Against Disaster
Successive earthquakes reveal a nation weakened by years of war and authoritarian rule. Bureaucracy, sanctions, and the exclusion of women have turned natural crises into human-made catastrophes.
In the dark early-morning hours of November 3, 2025, a magnitude 6.3 earthquake struck northern Afghanistan near the city of Mazar-e-Sharif in Balkh Province. At a depth of roughly 28 kilometres, the quake killed at least 20 people and injured more than 600, according to initial reports. Minor damage was also recorded at the city’s historic Blue Mosque, one of Afghanistan’s most important landmarks.
This was the second major earthquake in just two months. On August 31, 2025, a magnitude 6.0 quake struck eastern Afghanistan near the Nurgal District in Kunar Province, killing more than 2,200 people and injuring thousands. It was followed by a magnitude 5.2 aftershock on September 2 and a magnitude 6.2 quake on September 4, compounding the devastation across Kunar, Nangarhar, and Laghman provinces.
The country—already reeling from the mass deportations of Afghan migrants from Iran and Pakistan, ongoing border skirmishes with Pakistan, and an economy in free fall—was once again left with thousands of internally displaced people.
Afghanistan sits at the collision zone of the Indian and Eurasian tectonic plates. The Indian Plate is moving north-northeast, pushing beneath the Eurasian Plate and thrusting up the Hindu Kush and Pamir Mountains, some of the tallest ranges on Earth. This constant geologic compression makes Afghanistan one of the world’s most earthquake-prone regions.
Yet the same geology that defines Afghanistan’s landscape also magnifies its vulnerability. A magnitude 6.0 quake that might cause minimal damage in Japan or California can flatten entire Afghan villages. The difference lies not in magnitude but in infrastructure: most Afghan homes are built from mud and straw, often resting on loose sediment without seismic reinforcements.
For decades, successive Afghan governments, and now the Taliban regime, have paid little attention to earthquake preparedness. The country lacks early warning systems, such as those used in Japan, Taiwan, Chile, or on the West Coast in the U.S. There is no national alert network, no public drills, and minimal public education on seismic safety.
A report published in September 2025 by the Norwegian Afghanistan Committee highlighted the scale of the problem. It found that Afghanistan has only one functioning seismic station, located at Kabul University and installed by Germany’s GFZ Research Centre in 2005. Three additional stations, once operated with support from the U.S. Geological Survey, have been deactivated in recent years, reportedly due to sanctions and lack of maintenance. The report noted that the system could be restored “with a relatively modest budget,” which would “significantly improve the country’s ability to detect and monitor seismic activity.”
The lack of local expertise is another critical gap. Most seismic data from Afghanistan is still analyzed by institutions in Europe, as the country has few trained seismologists left following years of brain drain since the Taliban takeover. With science programs gutted in universities, the next generation of Afghan researchers is missing.
Afghanistan’s decades of war have stunted its urban development and modernization. While parts of Kabul, Herat, and Mazar-e-Sharif have modern buildings, most rural areas remain dependent on mud-brick housing. The Ring Road, intended to connect Kabul, Kandahar, Herat, Mazar-e-Sharif, and Jalalabad, was largely paved during earlier reconstruction efforts but now suffers from severe deterioration and neglect, particularly in insecure or mountainous areas.
When the August quake struck Kunar, Taliban officials had to rely on helicopters to deliver aid to remote districts because landslides and broken roads blocked access.
Earthquake response in Afghanistan falls under the Afghanistan National Disaster Management Authority (ANDMA), now under Taliban control. In theory, ANDMA is responsible for coordination and logistics. In practice, it primarily supports international and local aid organizations, which often lack the capacity, resources, and trained personnel to mount full-scale emergency operations—unlike agencies such as the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) in the U.S.
Officials from two international aid organizations operating in the quake zones told Middle East Uncovered that Taliban local officials quickly form “committees” to oversee relief efforts, divided into sub-committees for logistics, culture, and finance—but these often slow down the actual delivery of aid.
“They first form a committee of local Talibans,” said Mohammad, a country coordinator for one such organization. “National and international groups must report to that committee, which then provides its own lists of people in need instead of allowing us to conduct independent surveys.”
Both Mohammad and his colleague Jamal, a 28-year-old aid manager, described restrictions on female staff:
“Women are not allowed in the affected regions unless they’re medical personnel,” Jamal said. “Sometimes we have to present our female colleagues as doctors so that they can deliver aid to families without male members.”
These restrictions disproportionately harm female-headed households, who are often cut off from relief distribution, healthcare, and shelter access.
Jamal added that media access is heavily controlled:
“Under the previous government, journalists could question officials openly,” he said. “Now we struggle even to document our work. The Taliban forbid us from filming women or taking photos of aid distribution unless we get permission.”
Both men also noted nepotism and pressure from local Taliban commanders—requests to “accommodate a few people from our list” or share “a few blankets for the Mujahideen.” While these were not violent confiscations, they reflected a culture of favoritism and control. “Sometimes just a friendly chat over tea can win permission to take pictures,” Mohammad added.
The situation at Afghanistan’s disaster sites paints a clear picture: the Taliban lack the technical and institutional ability to manage large-scale disasters. Their control mechanisms focus on order and oversight, not on rapid response or humanitarian principles.
International and national aid groups remain the primary responders, often working under restrictive conditions and with minimal state coordination. Women—half the country’s population—are largely excluded from disaster management, except as health workers.
Meanwhile, the ongoing brain drain of Afghan scientists, engineers, and emergency professionals further weakens the nation’s preparedness. Without a scientific infrastructure, qualified personnel, or political will, Afghanistan remains dangerously exposed—a country sitting on restless ground, governed by a regime unable to steady it.
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