The Relentless Rise of Afghan Entrepreneurs

In a country where the state has failed, entrepreneurs are stepping in to create order, value, and opportunity

KABUL, Afghanistan — By any standard, launching a startup is a daunting endeavor. Founders must gamble on unproven ideas, compete for scarce investment, and attract the right talent in a saturated global economy. In Afghanistan, that challenge is compounded by isolation, war, and a regime hostile to the very notion of individual ambition. Yet against all odds, a generation of Afghan entrepreneurs is determined to build a future without fleeing their country.

In a corner of Kabul, at a café tucked between shuttered storefronts and Taliban checkpoints, a group of young visionaries launched what they hoped would be a movement. “We used to gather in Cupcake Café or Slice Bakery in Karte Char,” recalls Suhail Yadgari, a 20-year-old business student at Xi'an Shiyou University in China. “Eventually, we launched it one day from Slice Café.”

Yadgari is a co-founder of Veyaarh Holding Group, a network of startups with ambitions that defy the dire conditions of life under Taliban rule. From an e-learning platform for girls to a freelancing marketplace and a digital magazine, Yadgari and his peers are forging a new path—not through politics, but through enterprise. Their efforts are part of a broader, largely invisible movement across Afghanistan, where business becomes both a form of resistance and a means of reinvention.

Suhail’s first foray into media came during his final year of high school when he helped produce Afghanistan’s first science podcast in 2023. That experience, he says, “was eye-opening,” helping him realize “how powerful ideas can be.” Inspired, he launched an independent TEDx event to spotlight innovators, hoping to spark curiosity in a generation left behind by war and fundamentalism.

That desire to empower others quickly evolved into action. Under the umbrella of Veyaarh Holding Group, Yadgari launched KAAR, a platform connecting Afghan freelancers to global clients, and Zdakra, which offers digital learning to Afghan girls forbidden from attending school. He also founded WLC2AFG, an initiative aimed at reintroducing Afghanistan to the world through tourism and cultural diplomacy. The ventures continue with Ayen Creative Agency, the Dodai food discovery app, and Awaaza magazine.

For any founder, such an ecosystem would be impressive. For a young Afghan under Taliban rule, it borders on revolutionary.

Afghanistan’s economy has contracted by as much as 30% since the Taliban took power in August 2021. More than 63% of the country’s population is under the age of 25. Many of them are educated, ambitious, and desperate for opportunities. According to the UNHCR, lack of economic prospects, more than violence, is driving Afghans to migrate, often illegally, in pursuit of a future they cannot find at home.

But the pull of home remains strong. In an online survey, 90% of Afghan respondents expressed dissatisfaction with the economic situation; yet, 55% said they would stay if meaningful change were to occur. Their preferred destinations—Canada, the U.S., and the U.K.—remain aspirational. But many believe they could build lives in Afghanistan if only the economy gave them a chance.

Matiullah Rahmaty was one of the first. In 2016, before the Taliban’s return, he launched Bright Point Consulting and a pioneering co-working space in Kabul. Now in exile in Germany, Rahmaty remains deeply involved in supporting Afghan founders. “Hope for a bright, independent, and sustainable future paired with role models in the industry,” he says, was key to the early momentum.

Women played a central role. TEDx events, startup workshops, and local incubators gave Afghan women unprecedented opportunities until those doors slammed shut. “Women must navigate through two types of challenges,” Rahmaty notes. “First, convincing their families of their potential. Then, surviving what the community throws at them.”

Narciss, the founder of a jewelry and fashion brand in Kabul, knows that struggle intimately. What began as a one-woman Instagram shop has become a thriving business employing over 20 women. “Suppliers refuse to talk to us,” she says, “in fear of the Taliban’s morality police.” Even basic business tasks—securing funding, negotiating logistics—become perilous in a society that isolates women.

Still, thanks to a grant from the Innovation Hub, a U.S.-based microgrant accelerator run by Ideas Beyond Borders, Narciss’s brand continues to grow. The Innovation Hub has helped launch or expand over 90 businesses in Afghanistan, supporting more than 1,000 jobs directly and impacting tens of thousands more.

Other initiatives have stepped into the vacuum. Darya, founded by Afghan entrepreneurs, provides mentorship, branding, and market research support to over 120 startups. One project alone employs more than 2,500 people. The goal: not just to survive, but to scale.

Gloria Consulting’s AHEAD program, funded by the UNDP, focuses on digital transformation. In its first year, AHEAD backed 40 startups working in AI and IT. However, by 2025, that number had fallen to just five. “Projects must include a digitalization element,” says Gloria’s founder, Halem Kaminyar. But the decline in supported ventures has spooked the community. “We’re seeing early momentum begin to stall,” he adds.

Despite this, innovation persists. Rahmaty’s latest initiative, Tamweel, set to launch later this year, offers equity investments of up to €50,000 to Afghan entrepreneurs in the diaspora and migrants of other countries. His dream is to one day extend that solution back to those still inside Afghanistan.

Beyond Taliban-imposed barriers, Afghan entrepreneurs face a Kafkaesque regulatory environment. Ahmad Forest, another prominent founder, notes that while taxes are low, bureaucratic hurdles abound. “There’s no online system,” he says. “Everything is manual, slow, and confusing.”

Simple tasks like naming a company can become legal minefields due to Taliban interpretations of Sharia law. And intellectual property disputes, once rare, are rising. One Kabul-based law firm reports an uptick in copyright and trademark cases—perhaps a small silver lining suggesting a maturing business culture. But registering a company, especially without legal guidance, remains a formidable task.

The message from Afghanistan’s entrepreneurs is consistent: they don’t want handouts, they want a chance. Suhail, Narciss, Matiullah, Forest, and countless others have shown that with modest support, Afghan talent can flourish. What they need are meaningful investments, not just aid. Aid may provide the spark, but only entrepreneurial freedom offers a path to lasting stability, and Afghans know it.

Programs like Innovation Hub, Darya, and AHEAD represent lifelines for founders operating in one of the harshest economic climates. But as donor fatigue sets in and sanctions tighten, those lifelines are fraying. If the international community seeks to prevent further waves of migration or extremist recruitment, backing these entrepreneurs is one of the few strategies left that both respects Afghan agency and fosters economic resilience.

Afghanistan is still in turmoil. But its people are not passive. When left to their own devices, Afghan entrepreneurs aren’t merely surviving—they’re building lean, scalable companies in one of the most repressive economic environments on earth.

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