It’s the second day of a new year. As usual, we stick to optimistic statements. But how not to talk about Afghanistan when we learn that after having closed secondary schools to girls last March, the Taliban have now just forbidden them access to universities.
This is not to deplore a delay in equal rights, as in so many other countries where, from India to Mali via Saudi Arabia, women do not enjoy the same status as men. For Afghanistan, this is pure and simple regression. And this regression, decided by a country which hopes to re-establish normal relations with the international community, by a nation which would sink definitively into famine and chaos without the help of the NGOs which work there in spite of everything, is unprecedented.
What could have prompted the Taliban to commit this additional outrage, thus compromising the future of their tottering country, since, by excluding women, they are depriving it of a large part of its capacities for future development? One would search in vain for a reason for their senseless brutality. Only deep fear can cause such rage. Have the recent uprisings in Iran suddenly revived it? This, they may say to themselves, is what educated women are capable of. I am always struck by the paradox of considering women as inferior beings and, at the same time, fearing them beyond measure.
How many men have we seen alongside Afghan female demonstrators protesting the closure of universities? Where are the men ? Their friends, their brothers, their fathers? They were alone. There were, here and there, isolated acts of solidarity. So little. In Nangarhar, in the east of the country, students refused to take their final exams without their female classmates. Some teachers are reported to have resigned. In an Afghanistan in the grip of a cruel economic crisis, each of these men is a hero. They were very few. The students expelled from the universities are between 18 and 25 years old. They were born in a country under Western occupation and supposedly in democratic transition. They are the daughters of those who have not emigrated, who have chosen to remain in their country. Their parents, like them, were encouraged by an immense hope that we helped to inspire. By becoming computer scientists, lawyers, engineers, doctors, architects, agronomists, psychologists, they were determined to play their part in the reconstruction of their country. Here they are caged, minors forever, forbidden to leave their homes without the protection of a man of the family.
We will not return to Afghanistan. But what is in our power, what is our responsibility, is to ensure that Afghan women who have taken refuge in France enjoy the same rights there as men. Are we sure that they are learning enough French to be independent? Are we certain that they have access to the same professional training, to the same studies generously offered to their husbands? Or – let’s be realistic – that they benefit from crèche places so that they can study and work if they wish?
When French citizenship is requested by their husbands – and so rarely by them, curiously – does the administration ensure the living conditions of the spouse of a future French citizen? Finally, are we certain that Afghan women are even aware of the extent of their rights in France, of the possibilities of emancipation offered to them? These are the battles we could fight.