By Ershad Noorzai Balkhi, World BEYOND War, July 10, 2025
We are watching the world hurtle down a dangerous path of militarization, convinced that force is the answer to every problem. Violence is not only normalized, but, disturbingly, celebrated as a marker of strength and security. Yet history teaches us the opposite: violence does not create lasting safety. As Gandhi wisely said, any peace achieved through violence is fleeting, while the damage endures for generations.
As a follower of ahimsa, or nonviolence, I am often asked: “So, you believe in nonviolence? But what if your country is invaded by a foreign nation? What would you do then? How does nonviolence work in that situation?”
I’ll admit—this question has often left me searching for the right response. It challenges not only my beliefs but also the practical limits of nonviolence in the face of aggression.
One of the most compelling answers I’ve found comes from the work of political scientist Erica Chenoweth, particularly in their book Civil Resistance: What Everyone Needs to Know. Through rigorous research and historical analysis, Chenoweth demonstrates that nonviolent movements are not only morally compelling but also strategically effective.
Chenoweth’s data spans 627 resistance campaigns between 1900 and 2019. The findings are striking. Nonviolent movements succeeded in about 50% of cases, while violent ones succeeded only 26% of the time. In other words, nonviolent resistance has been nearly twice as effective as armed struggle in achieving its goals.[1]
These numbers matter. They remind us that nonviolence is not passive or naïve—it is a powerful, often underestimated force for political and social change.
Return to Afghanistan
In Afghanistan, for decades, many have believed that removing a particular leader or regime would bring lasting peace. Yet history has consistently proven otherwise. Over the past fifty years, violence has only deepened the country’s crises rather than resolved them.
To understand Afghanistan’s current predicament, one must look back to a pivotal yet often overlooked moment in its history: the year 1978. While 1979 — the year of the Soviet invasion — tends to dominate historical narratives, it was the events of the previous year that laid the foundation for the turmoil that followed.
In April 1978, the People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan (PDPA), a Marxist-Leninist group, orchestrated a coup against President Mohammed Daoud. In a brutal takeover, the PDPA assassinated Daoud and his entire family at the presidential palace in Kabul. The following day, the PDPA declared the coup a “proletarian revolution,” and Afghanistan officially became a communist state.
This moment marked a turning point from which the country has never fully recovered. It triggered a chain reaction of resistance, repression, foreign intervention, and internal collapse—dynamics that continue to shape Afghanistan’s political and social landscape to this day.
The new regime swiftly labeled all political parties and individuals who held views different from the PDPA as enemies of the revolution. What followed was a brutal crackdown: thousands were imprisoned, including many of the Marxist-Leninists who dared to propose alternative strategies or policies for governing the country under communist rule. For instance, in 1979, approximately six hundred political prisoners affiliated with the Parcham faction were detained in the notorious Pul-e-Charkhi prison in Kabul (Saikal, 2004). The regime labeled individuals with opposing political views as “enemies of the revolution.” The so-called enemies included Maoist leftists, Islamists, secular monarchists, and clerics, as well as traditional community leaders, who were frequently denounced as “feudals.” By September of 1979, the Pul-ee Charkhi prison in Kabul had over 12,000 political prisoners. [2]
Internal power struggles soon emerged within the PDPA. As tensions over leadership deepened—and as President Nur Mohammad Taraki grew increasingly ruthless, ordering mass arrests and executions—his comrade Hafizullah Amin turned against him. In October 1979, Amin orchestrated Taraki’s assassination. After his execution, in a public address, Amin admitted that Taraki had killed approximately 12,000 people in just one year, and with complete impunity.[3] That such a staggering figure came from a close ally and fellow party member raises troubling questions: if this was the official admission, how much higher was the true death toll? It is likely that the real number of victims was far greater than what was publicly acknowledged, even by those inside the regime.
Amin’s regime was short-lived, lasting only a few months. On December 27, 1979, he was poisoned and assassinated—an operation widely believed to have been orchestrated by the Soviet Union KGB. That same day, Soviet forces invaded Afghanistan and installed Babrak Karmal as the country’s new president. In less than two years, Afghan communists had eliminated three presidents—along with their families—under the banner of revolutionary change. This rapid and bloody turnover of power underscored the deepening instability and the tragic cost of ideological purges masquerading as political progress.
The oppressive and brutal rule of the PDPA government ignited widespread anger across Afghanistan, sparking armed resistance in many of the country’s major cities. One of the most notable uprisings occurred in March 1979 in Herat, where the 17th Infantry Division of the Afghan army joined civilians in a violent revolt. For two days, insurgents controlled the city until government forces responded with overwhelming military power, including airstrikes, to retake it.
Another significant uprising erupted in the Chandawal district of Kabul. Like Herat, this rebellion was met with brute force. The government’s violent crackdown reportedly resulted in as many as 10,000 deaths.[4]
Another attempt to overthrow the communist regime in Kabul was the Bala Hissar uprising. This coup was orchestrated by the Maoist party of Afghanistan, known as the Afghanistan Liberation Organization (ALO), and led by Faiz Ahmad, one of the founders of Afghanistan’s Marxist-Maoist movement.[5] The uprising took place on August 5, 1979 — just three months before the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.
Bala Hissar, an ancient fortress in Kabul, has long held strategic significance and has been used as a military stronghold for centuries. The Maoists hoped to seize the fortress, using it as a launchpad to spark a wider rebellion and take control of the city.
But the plan failed. The regime swiftly crushed the revolt, executing most of the insurgents, including Faiz Ahmad. Among those killed was Nainawaz, a brilliant Afghan musician and composer who had also taken part in the uprising.
The rising tide of uprisings and violence across Afghanistan in the late 1970s sent an unmistakable message to Kabul’s communist regime — and to Moscow: the Afghan government’s days were numbered. Faced with the imminent collapse of their fragile ally, the Soviet Union made the fateful decision to send in troops. What followed was not just an invasion, but the opening of yet another bloody chapter in Afghanistan’s long and tragic history.
Once Soviet soldiers crossed the border in 1979, the conflict escalated dramatically. Neighboring countries, especially Pakistan, saw an opportunity — and seized it. Pakistan poured money and weapons into the Afghan resistance. They opened military training camps on their soil, turning young Afghans into mujahideen fighters ready to cross back into their homeland and take on a superpower.
This was the beginning of Afghanistan’s transformation into a Cold War battlefield, where global powers fought their proxy wars at the expense of Afghan lives and futures — a pattern that, tragically, continues to date.
It didn’t take long for Afghanistan’s conflict to become a proxy war. The United States, still nursing its wounds from the humiliating defeat in Vietnam, saw an opportunity for revenge against its Cold War rival. Washington jumped in headfirst, pumping money, weapons, and ideology into the Afghan resistance — and in doing so, threw its weight behind militant groups and foreign fighters who flocked to the region from across the globe.
To sell this dangerous alliance to the public, the Western media helped craft a convenient narrative, calling the militants “freedom fighters” — “holy warriors” battling an evil empire. This whitewashed image concealed the uncomfortable truth: the U.S. was directly supporting extremist networks that would later haunt the world and the United States.
One striking example was Congressman Charlie Wilson, the man behind the covert funnelling of billions of dollars in weapons to the mujahideen. He famously described Jalaluddin Haqqani — one of the deadliest militants fighting the Soviets — as “goodness personified” [6]elevating him to a near-divine status. Haqqani would later become a key ally of the Taliban, orchestrating some of the bloodiest attacks against Afghan civilians, NATO forces, and the U.S. itself after 2001.
The proxy war in Afghanistan raged for a decade, claiming the lives of an estimated one to two million Afghans and forcing around five million more to flee as refugees. Once the Soviet Union withdrew, the United States — despite all its post-2001 rhetoric about bringing democracy and women’s rights to Afghanistan — revealed how little Afghan lives truly mattered. They got what they wanted: the defeat of the Soviet Union. Then they left, abandoning Afghanistan to the very extremists they had funded and armed during the Cold War. The tragic consequences of this short-sighted policy became clear to the world on 9/11 — an attack masterminded by Osama bin Laden, a Saudi who had come to Afghanistan alongside thousands of other militants supported by the U.S. in its fight against the Soviets.
Sadly, Afghanistan remains trapped in an endless cycle of violence — a painful reminder of the power of Gandhi’s wisdom on nonviolence. Time and again, Gandhi emphasized that he did not wish for India to win its freedom through bloodshed. Using the metaphor of not becoming like the British colonizers, he argued that if we simply replicated their brute force, we would inherit their moral corruption too. Instead, he insisted that true liberation must come through means that uplift our humanity, not degrade it.
Gandhi’s philosophy of nonviolence rests on profound philosophical foundations. One is rooted in the metaphysics of Advaita (non-dualism), which sees all life as interconnected and indivisible. Another lies in his unwavering belief in the inseparable relationship between means and ends: the means we choose inevitably shape the outcome we achieve. If we want a just and lasting result, we must pursue it through just and ethical means. Gaining freedom through violence, a wrong means, will only yield a corrupt outcome. Even if victory appears to be won, the consequences of violence will linger and follow us.
The Baltic States
In contrast, the Baltic States offer us an example of a different path. After World War II, Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania were occupied by the Soviet Union, yet they eventually won their independence through nonviolent resistance — the Singing Revolution.
These nations share something in common with Afghanistan: geography. The Baltic States lie at the crossroads of Russia, the Nordic countries, and continental Europe — traditional centers of power like Germany and France. From the 13th century onward, this strategic position made them a repeated target for invading forces, including Denmark, Poland-Lithuania, Sweden, Germany, and Russia.
Afghanistan has faced a similar fate. Situated at the crossroads of West Asia, Central Asia, South Asia, and China, it has been invaded by countless dynasties over the centuries. The British tried multiple times to control it in the 19th century, and the Soviet Union invaded in 1979. The history of Baltic states and also Afghanistan is a painful reminder that geography can be both a blessing and a curse, and that how people choose to respond to foreign domination can shape their future for generations to come.
The Baltic States chose to advocate for their freedom through nonviolent means such as peaceful demonstrations — the most famous of which was the “Baltic Way,” also known as the Human Chain for Freedom. On August 23, 1989, around two million people from Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania joined hands to form a human chain stretching from Tallinn to Vilnius. It became the longest human chain in history, a powerful symbol of solidarity and the unwavering spirit of nonviolent resistance.[7]
Estonia, in particular, turned to music and song as a means of protest and a powerful tool in their struggle for freedom from 1986 to 1991 — a movement that became known as the Singing Revolution. Estonians gathered in massive festivals to sing songs that were banned by the Soviet authorities, using music to keep their national identity alive and build solidarity. In September 1988, a historic festival in Tallinn drew 300,000 people together to sing nationalist and patriotic songs that had long been forbidden. This unprecedented gathering sparked the first open calls for independence.[8]
While the Baltic States waged their struggle for freedom through songs, demonstrations, and non-cooperation, Afghanistan was caught in a brutal, bloody war against the Soviet Union to achieve independence. By the mid-1980s, this conflict had turned into a proxy war between the United States and the Soviet Union. The tragic paradox of Afghanistan’s violent struggle was that, in fighting one occupier, they unwittingly surrendered their freedom to new external powers — namely, the United States and Pakistan. Many Afghans recognized this bitter reality but saw no clear way out: they had to keep fighting the Soviets while knowing they were also under the growing influence of their supposed allies and losing their freedom to them. Some clung to the hope that once the Soviets were expelled, true freedom would somehow follow. Others, like certain Maoist groups, understood they were being occupied not only by the Soviets but also by international militants and foreign powers, so they fought on two fronts — against both the Soviet Union and the extremist factions. This is one of the tragic consequences of seeking freedom through violence: you may succeed in expelling one aggressor, only to become captive to many more.
Of course, it is difficult to speak in absolutes about the past and what might have happened if history had unfolded differently. But imagine, for a moment, if the Baltic States — with their highly sensitive geopolitical position — had chosen to wage a violent war against the Soviet Union. Would they have won their independence? And if so, at what cost? How many hundreds of thousands of lives might have been lost? It is entirely possible that the region could have become a proxy battlefield like Afghanistan, caught in an endless cycle of wars and foreign interference. And even if victory had come, how deeply would such a war have scarred Baltic societies, their collective psyche, and their capacity to build democratic institutions afterward?
On the other hand, imagine if the Afghan communists had not become so cynical and ruthless — if they had not assassinated President Daoud Khan in 1978, or turned on their own leaders, killing two successive presidents in less than two years. What kind of Afghanistan might we have seen instead? Many would argue that the country could have been far more peaceful, prosperous, and developed.
But let us push this thought experiment further: after the communists seized power through violence in 1978, what if the Afghan people, instead of launching various violent uprisings, had chosen to resist nonviolently? Could Afghanistan’s fate have been different? It is very likely that the Soviet Union might never have felt compelled to invade in 1979. Even then, imagine if, after the Soviet invasion, Afghans had organized nonviolent resistance — as the Baltic States did — to push back against the occupiers. Perhaps Afghanistan, too, could have avoided the devastating proxy war that followed.
The Soviet Union also played a violent role in Afghanistan, fueling the conflict by invading the country illegally and violating international law. Imagine if the Soviet Union had never intervened — Afghanistan might look very different today, and so might the Soviet Union and modern Russia. The Soviets lost around 26,000 soldiers during the war[9], and the consequences of those deaths still haunt Russian society to this day.
Violence is like a cancer cell — once it enters a society, it duplicates, multiplies, and eventually destroys it from within. That is why it must be stopped as soon as possible. In Afghanistan, we witnessed how a small conflict grew into a full-blown proxy war between the United States and the Soviet Union, with regional actors like Pakistan fueling extremism. All these parties share responsibility for Afghanistan’s current situation.
About the Author:
Ershad Noorzai Balkhi is an Afghan intellectual and PhD candidate at the University of Helsinki, where he researches the Buddhist history of Afghanistan. He has studied philosophy and religions academically and writes on topics related to history, philosophy, and religion. Deeply passionate about nonviolent philosophy, he has studied figures such as Gandhi and is committed to exploring the role of nonviolence in historical and contemporary contexts. Balkhi is a coordinator with the WBW Afghanistan Chapter and is eager to learn more about WBW’s global peace-building, nonviolent movement.
[1] Erica Chenoweth, Civil Resistance: What Everyone Needs to Know (New York: Oxford University Press, 2021), 13.
[2] Amin Saikal, Modern Afghanistan: A History of Struggle and Survival, with Ravan Farhadi and Kirill Nourzhanov (London and New York: I.B. Tauris, 2004), 192.
[3] Ẓāher Tanīn, Afghānistān dar Qarn-e Bistom [Afghanistan in the Twentieth Century], 2nd ed. (Tehrān: Nashr-e Moḥammad Ebrāhīm Sharī‘atī Afghānistānī, 1383 [2004/2005]), 249.
[4] Seyyed Mohammad Baqer Miṣbāḥzādeh, Tārīkh-e Sīyāsī-ye Mokhtaṣar-e Afghānistān [A Brief Political History of Afghanistan] (Mashhad: Enteshārāt-e Marandīz for Markaz-e Pajoohesh-hā-ye Āftāb, 2009), 226.
[5] Enrico Piovesana, Sholayi: The Afghan Maoist Movement Testimonies Told by Militants (1965–2011) (Citta del Sole Edizioni: 2012), chapter 3.
[6] Michael Georgy, “Q+A-Haqqani: From White House Guest to Staunch U.S. Enemy,” Reuters, May 31, 2011, https://www.reuters.com/article/pakistan-waziristan-haqqani-idINL3E7GV0HE20110531/.
[7] Helen Wright, “Estonia Commemorates 30 Years since the Baltic Way – the Longest Unbroken Human Chain in History,” Estonian World, August 23, 2019, https://estonianworld.com/life/estonia-commemorates-30-years-since-the-baltic-way-the-longest-unbroken-human-chain-in-history/.
[8] Stephen Zunes, “Estonia’s Singing Revolution (1986–1991),” International Center on Nonviolent Conflict, April 2009, https://www.nonviolent-conflict.org/estonias-singing-revolution-1986-1991/.
[9] https://www.theguardian.com/world/2009/oct/18/afghan-war-soviet-invasion-mistakes
