Every morning during a work stint in Afghanistan almost a decade ago, I would pass a bakery window painted lime green in the heart of Kabul, and a gentle blue-eyed boy named Abdul would shyly wave.
What struck me most is that this story is not ultimately about culture or tradition; it is about power. Throughout history, harmful practices have often survived not because ordinary people supported them, but because powerful people benefited from them and institutions refused to challenge them.
Bacha bazi exposes a painful sociological truth: when a society is fractured by war, poverty, weak institutions, and impunity, the most vulnerable children can become commodities rather than citizens. In that context, the language of “tradition” functions less as an explanation and more as a shield protecting those who hold power.
What makes Abdul’s story so haunting is that exploitation is rarely invisible. People often know. Communities often know. Authorities often know. The real question is why some lives are considered expendable enough that knowing does not lead to action.
Ultimately, a society should be judged not by how it treats its most powerful members, but by how fiercely it protects those with the least power to protect themselves.
It is horrendous how we hide behind “tradition” on what is basically rape and sexual slavery and how we use that same logic when - as you have pointed out - fathers selling their daughters or on other issues like female genital mutilation.
This is gut wrenching and it would seem we have unfinished business over there as long as this barbaric crime is present. My heart breaks for the blue-eyed boy who represents the loss of innocent lives. 🥲
Years ago, I was made aware of a location in Afghanistan in which our Afghan allies had to be separated from our young, clean-shaven American soldiers for the very same proclivity you have described.
What struck me most is that this story is not ultimately about culture or tradition; it is about power. Throughout history, harmful practices have often survived not because ordinary people supported them, but because powerful people benefited from them and institutions refused to challenge them.
Bacha bazi exposes a painful sociological truth: when a society is fractured by war, poverty, weak institutions, and impunity, the most vulnerable children can become commodities rather than citizens. In that context, the language of “tradition” functions less as an explanation and more as a shield protecting those who hold power.
What makes Abdul’s story so haunting is that exploitation is rarely invisible. People often know. Communities often know. Authorities often know. The real question is why some lives are considered expendable enough that knowing does not lead to action.
Ultimately, a society should be judged not by how it treats its most powerful members, but by how fiercely it protects those with the least power to protect themselves.
It is horrendous how we hide behind “tradition” on what is basically rape and sexual slavery and how we use that same logic when - as you have pointed out - fathers selling their daughters or on other issues like female genital mutilation.
This is gut wrenching and it would seem we have unfinished business over there as long as this barbaric crime is present. My heart breaks for the blue-eyed boy who represents the loss of innocent lives. 🥲
Years ago, I was made aware of a location in Afghanistan in which our Afghan allies had to be separated from our young, clean-shaven American soldiers for the very same proclivity you have described.