The Taliban’s criticism of smartphones, coupled with reports that such devices have been restricted or even destroyed in certain areas, raises an obvious question: if smartphones are truly a source of moral corruption, why do Taliban officials continue to rely on the very same technology to communicate with the public, disseminate policies, release videos, and engage with the outside world?
This contradiction is difficult to ignore.
From official statements and battlefield footage to government announcements and media outreach, much of the Taliban’s messaging reaches audiences through smartphones, social media platforms, messaging applications, and internet-based services. Videos are recorded on modern devices, edited using digital tools, and distributed online to millions of viewers. Yet ordinary Afghans are repeatedly told that access to certain technologies poses a danger to society.
Critics argue that this reflects a broader pattern that has emerged since the Taliban returned to power in August 2021: what is considered acceptable for those in authority often appears unacceptable for the general public.
The debate extends far beyond smartphones. Over the past several years, Afghanistan has witnessed a series of restrictions that have attracted widespread international criticism. Girls have been barred from secondary schools and universities. Women have been excluded from many professions, restricted from working with numerous organizations, and subjected to increasingly stringent limitations on movement and public participation.
The Taliban have defended many of these policies as necessary measures based on their interpretation of religious and cultural values. However, opponents contend that the restrictions have left millions of Afghans, particularly women and girls, excluded from education, employment, and public life.
The smartphone debate therefore resonates because it touches on a larger question: are these policies genuinely about protecting society, or are they primarily about controlling it?
Technology itself is neither inherently virtuous nor inherently harmful. Like any tool, its impact depends on how it is used. Smartphones can expose users to harmful content, but they can also provide access to education, healthcare information, business opportunities, emergency communication, and religious learning. For many Afghans living in remote areas, mobile technology serves as a critical connection to the outside world.
This is what makes the apparent double standard so striking. If smartphones are considered beneficial enough for government officials to communicate, govern, and promote their message, many ask why ordinary citizens should not enjoy the same access.
Another question naturally follows: if the Taliban believe modern technology can be used responsibly under proper guidelines, why not encourage responsible use instead of restrictions? Conversely, if the technology is inherently harmful, why continue using it so extensively themselves?
Such inconsistencies have become increasingly difficult to explain to both Afghans and the international community. In an era when information travels instantly across borders, policies that appear contradictory are subjected to scrutiny within minutes. Videos, speeches, and official statements can be compared directly against actions on the ground.
The result is a growing perception among critics that Afghanistan’s rulers are applying one set of standards to themselves and another to the population they govern.
Whether discussing smartphones, women’s education, employment opportunities, or access to public life, the same question continues to surface: if a policy is genuinely necessary for the public good, should it not apply equally to those making the rules?
Until that question is convincingly answered, accusations of double standards are likely to persist.
