The land that knew no peace

The land that knew no peace has become a symbol of enduring struggle and cultural resilience, according to Dr Mujib Abid, a scholar whose reflections trace the complex interplay of political turmoil and spiritual tradition in Afghanistan. Writing in The Age and The Sydney Morning Herald, Abid recalls growing up in a nation shaped by decades of conflict, from the Soviet invasion of the 1980s to the U.S.-led military presence after 2001. His account highlights how successive waves of foreign intervention, whether communist, liberal democratic, or Islamist, have imposed ideological frameworks upon Afghan society, often distorting religious practices and reducing them to political instruments. As Afghanistan prepares to mark its Independence Day, Abid argues that the country's true strength lies in its pre-modern spiritual heritage, particularly the Sufi traditions that have long flourished in rural communities. Abid describes his childhood as one marked by constant upheaval. He lived through the chaotic years of the 1990s civil war, when religious extremism took hold, and later witnessed the impact of the American-led occupation, which he compares to the earlier Soviet influence. Both periods, he writes, saw external powers attempting to reshape Afghan identity along lines that suited their geopolitical agendas. The 1980s were defined by the rise of Marxist-Leninist movements, which led to widespread violence and instability. In the following decade, the Taliban emerged as a dominant force, enforcing a strict interpretation of Islam that alienated many Afghans. The arrival of Western troops in 2001 brought new challenges, with policies and values perceived as intrusive and incompatible with local customs. These interventions, Abid suggests, have all contributed to a deepening divide between the state and the broader population, leaving many feeling disconnected from their cultural roots. Central to Abid’s argument is the idea that Afghan society has always been deeply rooted in a more organic form of spirituality, one that predates modern political movements and is grounded in centuries-old Sufi traditions. He emphasizes that these traditions, rather than being tools of resistance or submission, offer a path to inner peace and communal harmony. Sufism, he explains, is characterized by its focus on personal spiritual growth, mystical insight, and a deep connection to the divine. Unlike the rigid dogmas promoted by political factions, Sufi teachings encourage introspection, compassion, and a holistic understanding of existence. This approach, Abid contends, has allowed many Afghans to maintain a sense of continuity despite the disruptions caused by war and foreign rule. Abid draws on personal memories to illustrate this point. He recalls the devotion of his grandfather, who regularly recited Dalā’il al-Khayrāt, a revered collection of prayers and virtues. His grandmother, meanwhile, was a devoted follower of the Shah Samad Pir Yakhpush shrine, a site associated with a local Sufi saint. Even his early education in the village mosque was steeped in the poetry of Hafiz, a 14th-century Persian poet known for his lyrical exploration of love and spirituality. These experiences, he says, helped shape his view that true faith lies not in political allegiance but in a deeper, more intuitive relationship with the divine. He further notes that the Sufi tradition has remained resilient because it does not rely on institutional power or political authority. Instead, it thrives in informal settings, family gatherings, village festivals, quiet moments of reflection. This decentralized nature makes it difficult for governments or external actors to control or co-opt it. As a result, Sufism continues to serve as a unifying force among Afghans, offering a counterbalance to the divisive narratives promoted by competing political groups. Looking ahead, Abid expresses hope that future generations will continue to draw inspiration from these ancient traditions. He cites the works of poets like Farid ud-Din Attar, Rumi, and Bedil Dehlavi as examples of literary and spiritual wealth that can guide the Afghan people toward healing and renewal. For him, the journey back to a more authentic form of Islam is not merely a nostalgic exercise, it is a necessary step toward restoring dignity, stability, and meaning in a nation that has endured so much.