Blood feuds or revenge killings are closely connected to honour and shame, as seen through tribal customs and centuries-old traditions in Afghan society. For many decades, these feuds perpetuated cycles of violence, claimed countless lives and undermined the formal justice system. However, in recent decades, they seem to be in decline, as Afghan society experiences shifts in cultural norms, argues AAN’s Sharif Akram in this report, drawing on research carried out in Khost province. After speaking to a number of tribal elders, community and village leaders, religious scholars, government officials and social activists, he highlights factors such as increased access to education, exposure to other cultures and values and inter-tribal connectivity that have contributed to the decline in blood feuds in Khost province.

Afghanistan is still a largely traditionalist society regulated by centuries-old customary laws. These customs were never fully aligned with modern legal frameworks or even Islamic teachings, despite Islam being practised in the region for centuries. While some of these tribal norms have promoted positive values that are less common in modern societies, such as nanawati (seeking forgiveness), hospitality and hashar (community cooperation), they have also encouraged notions related to blood feuds, such as badal, baadi and dushmani (explained below), that have negatively impacted lives.

Theories about the historical origins of blood feuds as a practice revolve around its appearance in conditions of weak or non-existent state power, severe competition for resources and its role as a self-regulating mechanism to control violence inside a community or between neighbouring ones. Some scholars have even credited blood feuds with a role in providing social structure in otherwise egalitarian societies: by creating networks of alliance and defiance, the institution of the feud contributes to social cohesion in the absence of formal power structures.^[1]See for example, Jacob Black-Michaud, Feuding Societies, Oxford, Wiley-Blackwell, 1975, chapter 4.

Blood feuds have been historically widespread among Pashtun tribes and have long been a defining feature of society in the south, east and southeast of Afghanistan. Among these communities, it was a common saying that if a man was not engaged in a feud, he was not considered a real man. Although limited research is available on the topic, it has fascinated international and Afghan anthropologists equally.^[2]Professor Thomas Barfield is quoted in CORI Thematic Report Afghanistan: Blood Feuds, February 2014, where he said: “What little material there is comes from the 1970s when research … Continue reading

Recognising a knowledge gap about blood feuds in Afghanistan, this report presents some qualitative evidence to suggest that the nature and frequency of blood feuds have changed over the last half century, leading to a noticeable decline. The report is based on research conducted in Khost province, located in southeastern Afghanistan along the border with Pakistan. Khost was selected due to a high incidence of blood feuds and its multi-tribal composition, where tribal codes are more strictly observed and enforced. The research is based on 20 in-depth interviews conducted between October 2024 and March 2025, with tribal elders, community and village leaders, religious scholars, government officials and social activists. Almost all of them had been involved, in one way or another, in blood feuds, often initiated by others from their social group.

Our interviewees said that while new feuds are rare, many from previous generations remain unresolved, with families still caught in cycles of retaliation. However, even these feuds have become less violent, as tribal elders, youth and jirgas (tribal assemblies) are playing a more active role in mediation and conflict resolution.

Blood and honour

Pashtunwali and Pashtun nerkh are the two features that are designed to regulate and guide most aspects of a Pashtun’s life. Pashtunwali, as Lutz Rzehak described it in a 2011 AAN paper, “includes all traditions by which Pashtuns, according to their understanding, distinguish themselves from other ethnic groups.” Pashtunwali, as the report further states, is “a sophisticated code of honour, moral and ethical rules of behaviour, the demand for martial bravery, reasonable actions and consultation, a system of customary legal norms and not least, faith in Islam.”^[3]See Lutz Rzehak, Doing Pashto; Pashtunwali as the Ideal of Honourable Behaviour and Tribal Life among the Pashtuns, Afghanistan Analysts Network, 2011, p3.

While Pashtunwali is the broader framework that defines the values and ethos a Pashtun must uphold, nerkh, which could be translated as “price” or “value”, serves as a more specific manual or set of guidelines for actual conduct. In a conversation with the author, a Pashto literature expert at the Academy of Sciences described Pashtunwali as the whole and nerkh as a part of it. He also noted that the general ethos of Pashtunwali is well-defined, established over centuries. It includes elements such as melmastia (hospitality), wafadari (loyalty), panah (sanctuary), ghairat (moral pride), badal (revenge), as well as sharm (shame) and haya (decency), among others. The nerkh, however, refers to the customary laws and rules that govern these values. It varies from tribe to tribe and can be amended by tribal elders. Among each community, there are individuals considered experts in that tribe’s nerkh who are able to resolve disputes in accordance with it. One interviewee, a Mangal tribal elder explained:

Every tribe has its own nerkh and settles disputes based on it. For example, among Mangals, when a girl and boy flee [engaged in extra-marital relations], the nerkh is to find and kill both. But in some other tribes, the nerkh is to give some other punishment or to arrange their marriage. Also, the nerkh could be changed, but not everyone is allowed to change it. Among Mangals, there’s a certain [sub-clan] that has the authority to change it and the rest of the tribe follows them.

In his AAN paper, Rzehak stated that being a Pashtun is not only based on being born to a Pashtun family or speaking Pashtu but on “’doing Pashto’; and ‘doing Pashto’ means to bring one’s behaviour in line with the ideals and moral concepts of the Pashtuns.”^[4]See Rzehak, ‘Doing Pashto’, p9. One of our interviewees conveyed a similar sentiment, saying that “people who do not follow nerkh and Pashtunwali were seen as cowards and immoral and even [their own] tribes disowned them.” A well-known Pashtun proverb says, “Leave the village, but not the nerkh,” implying that while moving away from one’s village is acceptable, stepping outside the boundaries of the nerkh is prohibited and strongly discouraged.

Feuds exist to some extent among all ethnic groups in Afghanistan, however, they represent an essential part of Pashtun tribal tradition. Blood revenge, enshrined in Pashtunwali, is connected to honour, in the sense that failure to reciprocate is deemed a sign of moral weakness and may imply whole kinship groups being seen as lacking in moral character. Both reporting a murder to the authorities and negotiating for financial compensation (blood money) with the perpetrator’s family can be interpreted as weakness of the group that is not strong enough to defend its honour, though this might be more acceptable in parts of the country than it is in the southeast.^[5]See Afghanistan: Blood Feuds, Traditional (Pashtunwali) Law, and Conflict Resolution, LandInfo, 2011 A famous Pashtun proverb reads:

He cannot be silenced so easily
A Pashtun’s hatred burns like fire in his mind.
If someone spills the blood of his son or brother,
To forgive is seen as a deep disgrace

A poem by the famous seventeenth century Pashtun leader and poet, Khushal Khan Khattak, explains Pashtun temperament, which fuels blood feuds:

The Pashtuns are quick to anger,
Clashes break out from house to house.
If one dares to raise his head,
Another will crush it without a word.

Given how important the protection of honour is for Pashtuns – and by extension, revenge in blood feuds – there are many additional notions surrounding this tradition that get defined by nerkh. The first is called baadi and refers to the condition of an individual having an active blood feud, where one takes the risk of killing or being killed; this condition usually starts after serious offenses causing dishonour, like murder.

The second important notion is dushmani, which refers to enmity or hostility, indicating a state of groups or individuals being enemies or having ill feelings towards one another. The third notion, badal, according to Lutz, expresses an exchange: not merely the call for revenge, but also “the obligation to thank for the provision of help and to provide compensation as soon as possible.”^[6]See Rzehak, ‘Doing Pashto’, p14.

Baad, on the other hand, refers to the compensation paid to resolve a feud. This compensation can be a woman or girl being married off in a so-called baad marriage, or it could be a reward of property or land.^[7]For more on attempts under the Republic to prevent baad see, Hope for Afghan Women Traded to End Feuds, IWPR, 18 January 2017; and for the IEA’s attempt to ban forced marriages, … Continue reading Nanawati refers to the perpetrator going to the victim’s home to admit guilt, bringing gifts and slaughtering a sheep as part of the gesture. The visitor remains inside and refuses to come out or eat anything in the victim’s house unless they are forgiven.

Feuds start with a dispute, which often morph into deadly and long-lasting episodes of killings. Once someone is killed, the victim’s family, as local norms and tribal code demand, are obliged to retaliate not only to punish the perpetrator but potentially any close blood relation of the killer, often leading to an ongoing cycle of violence between families, tribes, or even entire villages. A murder becomes a matter of honour for an entire family, clan or tribe and calls for an immediate response which must be of no less damage to the other side.

The feuds are mostly triggered by disputes related to land, water rights, izzat aw namus (personal honour, often involving women or girls) or family conflicts. In areas like Khost, where a large amount of forest exists and serves as a source of livelihood, disputes over ownership rights on woodlands at the tribal and family levels are another major cause. However, what ignites bloody feuds is not merely the material loss suffered by one party, but the pride and honour that become undermined. In Pashtun tribal societies, pride and honour are not individual but are shared by all who have a strong sense of belonging to a tribe, clan or social alliance with the involved parties.

In many cases, a disagreement over an issue escalates; what, for example, begins as a quarrel over property or an insult to one’s honour, turns into acts of destruction, such as burning each other’s crops or damaging homes. Once started, there are hardly any legal means to resolve it, except through the jirga, or tribal assembly, which resolves feuds in accordance with the tribal code or nerkh and is meant to restore honour as well as do justice to all sides.

If not resolved, the blood feud often drags in more and more family members over time. It is common for each party to wait a long time for a good opportunity for their turn at retaliation. A proverb among Pashtuns states that if one takes his revenge even a hundred years later, he has done it too soon, meaning it is never too late to take revenge. This is why the cycle of retaliation often spans generations and can expand from family to clan and tribe, leaving parties in a constant state of fear and leading them to avoid public places and even abandon their homes to escape further bloodshed. In Khost province, for example, our research found that more than a dozen families from Gurbaz district alone had relocated to adjacent areas on the Pakistani side of the Durand Line solely to escape revenge in the context of blood feuds.

Blood feuds in Khost province

Khost province is located in southeastern Afghanistan, along the Durand Line . The province consists of a lower-lying, fertile valley surrounded by mountains covered with vast expanses of pine nut forests. Several Pashtun tribes reside on both sides of this border. Major tribes include the Dzadran, Mangal, Tani, Gurbaz, Mandozai, Lakan, Dzazi, Sabari and Alishir Terizai, among others. These tribes do not belong to the two major Pashtun tribal confederacies, the Durrani and Ghilzai, but are part of the Karlani confederacy, which primarily inhabits southeastern Afghanistan and parts of Pakistan’s Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province.^[8]For more details on the Karlani tribal confederacy, see this article from the Utmakhel Society (the Utmakhel tribe are part of the Karlani confederacy).

Historically, Khost remained outside of direct state control and was entirely governed by tribal law, which has long been the dominant force regulating people’s lives, even more so than in other regions.^[9]On the most famous of several instances of anti-state rebellion in the province, the Khost Rebellion of 1924, see this recent AAN dossier. What particularly contributed to this autonomy from state control is the presence of these smaller tribes found only locally; according to a 2022 paper, their “relative isolation… has created a sense of independence for Khostis, which symbiotically has reinforced their ideas on governance.”^[10]See Mehmed Ali, The Ghost of Khost; What History Might Tell Us about the Future of Afghanistan, Journal of Indo-Pacific Affairs, January 2022. The author further elaborates:

For example, in return for supporting the installation of King Mohammed Nadir Khan in 1929, the local tribes around Khost did not ask for cabinet positions or infrastructure projects. Instead, they extracted from the central government exemptions from taxes, military service, and compulsory education. For these tribes “less equalled more,” and their goal was to be left alone from state apparatus—an idea that undoubtedly resonates with many Khostis today. As part of this agreement, they also maintained a special administrative tribal status that continued until the communists came to power in 1978. Despite the radical societal transformations the [state] rolled out, strong tribal identities remained. And during the Taliban rule of 1995–2001, Khost, Paktyka, and Paktya were ruled by their own local governors instead of the Kandahari Taliban who held power over the rest of the country.

During the research for this report, the author interviewed twenty tribal elders, community and village leaders, religious scholars, government officials, and social activists, all male. Twelve interviewees were over the age of fifty and almost all of them had directly been involved in a blood feud, often initiated by others from their social group. Nearly all interviewees agreed that Pashtunwali and tribal law are applied more strictly in Khost than elsewhere in Afghanistan. The tribal composition of the communities, along with completion among them for land, forests and, has often been a major factor in the high recurrence of blood feuds.

In rural areas, where land is a family’s most valuable asset and also part of one’s social status, disagreements over boundaries can quickly escalate into violence. Similarly, conflicts over water rights, especially in agricultural communities, have frequently led to deadly confrontations. For instance, in a village in Tanai district, named after the locally predominant tribe, two families clashed over access to a stream used for irrigation. When the argument turned violent, one man was killed in the altercation, prompting the other party to seek revenge. This initiated a cycle of retaliatory attacks that lasted for years.

In another case, an interviewee from Tanai district recounted that his family was engaged in a blood feud for over a decade after another family cut and sold their share of a forest.

Likewise, a major feud over land and water continues between the Balkhel and the Sabari sub-tribes that inhabit eastern Khost and Paktia provinces. Although there are different opinions about its start, which either happened in 1998 or already half a century ago and it is also not clear over which patch of land it exactly revolves, this feud has already caused the death of around two hundred people (AFP).

Another major cause of blood feuds ap’re matters of personal honour and grievances. Afghan society places immense importance on nang (honour), ghairat (moral pride) and izzat (dignity). The fact that there are so many closely related words and synonyms for the word honour is telling about its importance and centrality to social life. Yet it also implies that any perceived insult or moral wrongdoing can lead to longstanding hostilities. Elopements, accusations of adultery or public humiliations frequently result in violent retaliation that continues across generations.

In one case in the Mandozai district of Khost province, a young man eloped with a woman from another family, an act regarded as a grave insult to the honour of the woman’s family, which was automatically seen as tainting the honour of her entire tribe. The woman’s relatives responded by killing a male member of the young man’s family along with the woman involved. In turn, the other side sought revenge.

This was a widespread pattern in Khost, with interviewees providing many similar examples of extramarital relations, whether proven or merely suspected and where both ‘culprits’ were often killed by their respective families.

Tribal and ethnic rivalries have also been a significant source of blood feuds, especially when competition over resources and power is involved. Many disputes that start over minor issues, such as grazing land or cattle trespassing, can escalate into prolonged conflicts between entire tribes and last for decades.

Political conflicts have further fuelled feuds, especially since the 1980s. Many families were torn apart during the Soviet-Afghan war and later during the Taliban’s first Emirate, with relatives fighting for opposing factions. Political allegiances served as a cover for revenge on a larger scale, as the parties could rely on the backing of the larger warring faction, whether it be the state or an insurgent group. Even after active conflicts ended, revenge killings continued as families sought to settle old scores. These rivalries and baadi have also taken a toll in a different way over the last twenty years: when someone wanted to kill their enemy while avoiding being targeted for revenge, they would hire someone to do the job ‘anonymously’. The political reasons for the conflict would then be blamed for the death. Alternatively, the two sides involved in baadi would align with one of the conflicting parties, either the Republic or the Taliban.

For instance, several interviewees noted that men from the Sabari tribe were widely known as supporters of the Taliban, while people from the Tanai tribe were primarily aligned with the Islamic Republic. One interviewee recalled an incident in which a Sabari man became involved in a minor dispute with a Tanai man in the Khost bazaar. Because the Tanai man held power within the government and the CIA-backed Khost Protection Force,^[11]On the Khost Protection Force, see Antonio Giustozzi, The Political Liability of Military Effectiveness: The CIA’s Khost Protection Force in Afghanistan, LSE Occasional Papers 1, 26 October … Continue reading the Sabari man was arrested and tortured, only being released after paying a ransom. Consequently, if a Tanai man then ventured into Sabari territory, he would have likely faced a similar fate, as the Sabari had since allied themselves with the Taliban and wielded power in their regions.^[12]The same happened with two rival tribes that have historically had major feuds in Kandahar: the Achakzais, who tended to support the Islamic Republic, with the brutal behaviour of commander Razeq and … Continue reading

During the recent decades of conflict, moreover, once feuds began, they quickly became very intense and violent. What particularly increased their lethality was the widespread availability of weapons, starting from the time of the Afghan jihad during the Soviet/PDPA era and continuing through the period of the civil war of the 1990s and then in the last twenty years of fighting between the Taliban and the Republic. Interviewees explained that, in earlier times, conflicts were often fought with single-shot firearms or even rudimentary tools like shovels and pickaxes, which, while dangerous, had limited impact. Now, however, with automatic rifles capable of firing multiple rounds rapidly and hitting targets from a great distance, feuds claim more lives and escalate more quickly, making them far deadlier than before.

A tribal elder from Mandozai district recalled that 30 years ago, in a village of thirty families – nearly half – fourteen were entangled in feuds, either with each other or with families from neighbouring villages. In some areas of Khost, such as Tanai district, entire villages and even the whole Tanai tribe were drawn into cycles of revenge, both among themselves and with other tribes. Interviewees stated that it was almost unheard of to find an extended Tanai family that did not have baadi. One interviewee from the Lakan area had lost two brothers to a feud, while another from the Spera district had given two sisters in baad marriages to settle a dispute. A third interviewee from Gurbaz had been forced into exile in Kurram, Pakistan, for nine years in order to escape revenge. Some feuds were so old that people no longer remembered the original cause, yet the expectation of revenge remained deeply ingrained in the family.

The Mangal tribe, on the other hand, was traditionally and until recently involved in seven simultaneous feuds with six different tribes: Muqbil, Terezai, Dzadran, Haidar Khel, Babakar Khel, and Ismail Khel. However, the past few decades have brought significant changes to this: the Mangal tribe’s feuds with other tribes have all now ended except for the one with the Dzadran.

While Khost province remains largely rural, with tribal norms still governing social interactions and the absence of a strong rule of law or formal dispute resolution mechanisms, broader socio-political shifts have nonetheless reshaped its society to a significant extent. These changes have altered many long-standing traditions, including the practice of blood feuds, implying that, at least in Khost province, fewer people engage in new feuds and the revenge cycle ends sooner.

A decline in feuds?

Measuring the decline of blood feuds is challenging due to the lack of data and documentation, as well as the complex and deeply personal nature of these conflicts. However, this research has suggested a decline in blood feuds and in the length of their revenge cycles over the past half-century, based on insights from interviewees who provided comparative perspectives on the state of feuds in their villages, tribes and districts.

Of the twenty individuals interviewed for this report, the majority were not currently involved in any feud and none had initiated a new feud in the past eighteen years. One interviewee from the Muqbil tribe in Dzazi Maidan district recalled that forty years ago, there were more than twenty-four active feuds involving different tribes and families in his area. According to him, that number has now dwindled to just four and even those have persisted for decades rather than arising in recent years. A tribal elder from Mandozai district similarly observed:

In the last ten years, we’ve only had three new feuds. Forty years ago, very few families in our village [of 40 households] didn’t have baadi – either inherited from their ancestors or started by themselves.

Another interviewee from Sabari district said that thirty years ago in his village of fourteen families, four were involved in feuds. “Today, our village has expanded to over eighty families, yet the number of ongoing feuds has fallen to three,” he said. A fifty-year-old tribal elder from Sabari said that he could not recall a new feud in the last fifteen years, although the long-standing feuds still continue.

Apart from the past-present numerical comparisons that demonstrate fewer feuds have been initiated, interviewees also provided numerous examples of situations that occurred in the last two decades and that would have likely sparked a feud before, but due to changes in society, have not. For instance, one interviewee from Mandozai district recalled that fifteen years ago, when two cars crashed, people would fight each other instead of resolving the issue through legal channels. “The crash might not have damaged them much, but the fight between the two would, as sometimes it would result in one being stabbed with a knife or even killed.” However, he added, “now, when there is a car accident, people come and ask each other whether they are harmed or if there is a need to take them to the hospital. Then they wait and resolve the issue peacefully.”

Another interviewee, a university student from Matun area of Khost city, gave a similar example:

In our village, almost eighteen years ago, a man hit somebody’s little daughter with his car. The villagers came and beat the person so badly that they broke his arms and legs. Last month another man hit a child with his car in our village. The child’s family came and took the child to the hospital in the driver’s car. When the child got well, they summoned a jirga and resolved the matter without violence.

Beyond the decline in instances of blood feuds, strict adherence to the traditional ways of conducting them has also evolved. One thing that has changed is that, unlike in the past, feuds today have become more contained, as one interviewee explained:

In the past, if one family from a tribe engaged in a feud with another family from a different tribe, the conflict wouldn’t remain limited to those two families. It would drag the entire tribe into it, or at least the extended family, including cousins and distant relatives. But now, when a family in one village engages in baadi, even their cousins remain uninvolved and aren’t targeted.

Even within the same family, there has been a shift in how the targets for revenge are understood. The principle of collective responsibility, a long-standing feature of blood-feuds, is giving ground to a more individual response. Previously, when a man was killed, any male member of his extended family could become a target. Now, revenge is often sought only against the sole perpetrator. One interviewee described a recent case:

Last year, a Tanai man killed a Sabari in a dispute and fled the area. The Sabaris later came to the Tanai’s house, demanding that the family hand over the killer. When the family told them that he had fled and they couldn’t find him, the Sabaris eventually left without harming anyone else. The baadi still exists, but now they seek only the killer, not his brothers or father. The latter promised them if they found him, they’ll summon a jirga and resolve the matter peacefully.

Moreover, the cycle of revenge has significantly shortened. Many feuds that once lasted for generations now come to an end much sooner. In particular, old feuds that have persisted for centuries are increasingly coming to a close. For example, in the Lakan area, a feud between two families began during the reign of Zahir Shah in the 1960s. Over the decades, seven people were killed on both sides. However, the latest generation – now great-grandsons of the original adversaries – grew up as university classmates and has little interest in continuing the conflict, something which would have once been unlikely according to the old norms of pride and revenge.

The generational change means many younger Afghans no longer see it as their duty to continue the feuds inherited from their fathers and grandfathers. One Sheikh Zaid University student from Khost province said:

In the past, there were a lot of bad traditions in our society. Whatever the reason for them, at least we know they were bad and not in line with Islam and humanity. So, when we understand they were bad and cost many innocent lives, why should we continue that and follow that same path that we are considering a bad one? Definitely not. We shouldn’t commit the sins and wrongdoings our ancestors have done.

What are the factors behind the decline in blood feuds?

Various factors may have contributed to the decline in blood feuds and the quicker resolution of conflicts, including social transformations at the turn of the century and infrastructural development. Many underlying causes that once triggered blood feuds have changed in ways that no longer automatically lead to disputes. For instance, while land disputes remain a common source of tension, land ownership is now more clearly defined and demarcated, first among family members and then between tribes. This clarity has helped reduce the ambiguity and prevent disputes that often escalated into violence. Once a key source of disputes, water has become less of a trigger, as natural and infrastructural changes have transformed how it is accessed and distributed.

Reflecting on the past feuds, a tribal leader from Mandozai district said:

In the past, people would fight over water. There would be a shared karez [underground water canal], and everyone had a fixed amount of water for their land. But then someone would divert the flow to their own fields, depriving others. This would lead to a fight and eventually to a [state of] baadi. Now, those karezes are gone. Everyone has their own well (chah) and solar-powered water systems, so there’s no more conflict over this.

Several interviewees suggested that in the past, women in their villages had a more public role – fetching water from the communal karez or working in the fields – where the chances of their interaction with unrelated men were high, which could threaten family honour, lead to disputes and, in the end, blood feuds. However, as one interviewee from the Matun area of Khost city explained, “now, every house has its own well. Women no longer need to go to the gudar [a small well of clean water] or karez. They also don’t work in the fields like before and the house walls are so high that no one can see inside.”

While this does not mean all the root causes of feuds have disappeared, many have been naturally resolved or lessened over time. Today, with better-defined and documented property rights, access to resources and increased awareness, there are fewer triggers for conflicts that once easily escalated into blood feuds.

Moreover, shifts in people’s social behaviour and priorities have also played a significant role in the decline of blood feuds. The traditional tribal structures that once defined how people lived are no longer considered valid or the standard way of life. These structures, which were once central to the organisation of society, are now increasingly questioned by the youth. As one young interviewee put it, they are considered “illogical and [coming] from the times of jahalat [ignorance].”^[13]Jahalat is the Pashto pronunciation of the Arabic religious term of jahiliyah, which means ignorance and refers to the pre-Islamic era, a time often described by Islamic scholars as one of … Continue reading What was once seen as the natural order of things is now viewed with scepticism, as these old tribal practices fail to align with contemporary values.

In their place, new, more modern values are emerging. Society has shifted towards emphasising individual rights, education and a more cooperative, peaceful approach to resolving conflicts. While the traditional tribal structures still hold significance in some areas, the broader societal shift towards progress experienced by many families and communities across Afghanistan has rendered many of the old practices less relevant. For example, an interviewee from Spera district explained how families and tribes now consider their decisions:

In the past, the entire destiny of a tribe or family would be determined by a single person, typically the elder. Others would follow his orders without questioning, as his word was seen as the absolute authority. However, today, when an elder speaks, people no longer blindly obey. Instead, they critically evaluate whether what he says is logical and in the best interest of their tribe’s well-being. Decisions are no longer made solely by one person — now, individuals have a say and no one can decide on their behalf without their consent.

An interviewee from Matun area, in his early fifties, explained how ideas of collective action and responsibility lost ground:

Once someone from a tribe became engaged in a feud with men of another tribe, the whole tribe would be held accountable, and it would soon escalate into a tribal feud. Now, tribes are no longer as united, their cohesiveness has eroded significantly. Everyone prioritises their own family and refrains from engaging [in feuds] with others in the tribe.

As mentioned, while the desire for a good, dignified life has always existed, the standards by which it is defined have shifted significantly. Previously, concepts like honour or izzat were closely linked to notions of power and revenge – having a baadi or demonstrating the ability to retaliate was viewed as a mark of dignity and strength, even at the cost of taking lives. In contrast, a good life is now characterised by stability, education and a strong economy. As one interviewee, a local businessmen and university graduate from Mandozai, put it:

Education has become a top priority for families. People don’t want to lose it or tarnish their future by becoming entangled in a baadi. I know a man who was caught in a blood feud and couldn’t send his sons to school or university due to the fear that they might be attacked. He lived under constant pressure and was just waiting for a small excuse to make peace – anything that would end the feud without further bloodshed.

Another interviewee, a tribal elder of Matun, also noted:

People now think twice before entering into baadi because it’s not just about honour anymore, it’s about the future. Who will run the shop? Who will go to school? What if the feud ruins our lives?

In the past, people tended to follow tribal traditions that were passed down over generations, without questioning them. However, the new generation no longer accepts and follows them, as one interviewee, a village elder from Sabari, explained:

Before, people only followed nerkh. They didn’t know anything else. But after going abroad and seeing how peacefully people live elsewhere, their thinking changed. They saw the difference and began to question our old ways. Many of those tribal customs started to seem unreasonable, so people stopped following them.

Another interviewee, a local NGO director in Khost said that access to education had a major impact on how people perceive tribal rules. He said:

In our area, some people had never even visited Gardez city [capital of Paktia province]. When Zahir Shah tried to open schools, people said they’d rather pay extra taxes than send their sons to school. They just didn’t understand the value of education. They had never left their villages and didn’t know there was another way to live. But now, young people travel, see new things, and get educated. They question the old traditions, though the elders often don’t like it. I remember my grandfather called me shameless just because one of my friends was from a tribe we had a feud with long ago. My grandfather still doesn’t like that person. But for me, that feud doesn’t mean anything.

A village elder from the Lakan area, also stressed on the role of education on the way people behaved:

In the past, when most people were illiterate, they would feud over very small issues. But now that many are educated, they think about the consequences and try to resolve matters through discussion and reason. It’s very rare these days for minor disputes to escalate into blood feuds or killings.

Reconciliation, the Emirate’s justice and the role of the youth

Feuds no longer arise as easily because other factors pre-emptively resolve or manage them before escalation. For instance, when someone is killed in a dispute, the victim’s family often does not immediately seek revenge. Instead, they summon local elders to mediate and settle the issue. Rather than taking the life of the perpetrator, the victim’s family may choose to accept diyat (blood money) as compensation. A form of this kind of resolution was practised in the past in Khost, where the perpetrator’s family might marry off a girl to the victim’s family; today, however, money has become the key factor in resolving such matters in the southeast region.^[14]This University of Chicago journal article on Pashtunwali suggests that blood money tends to replace blood feuds as a society moves from a subsistence to a cash economy.

One interviewee shared a recent example:

Last month, a man was killed in a land dispute in our village. His family didn’t react and after the funeral and other ceremonies, the perpetrator’s family sent a delegation of elders to request a jirga. They agreed, and during the jirga, more than 50 lakh kaldar [Pakistani rupees, roughly USD 17,000] was paid to the victim’s family and they forgave the murderer.

Accepting money to resolve a feud was once considered a disgrace and a source of dishonour for the entire family and tribe in Khost. Some people are still hesitant and believe this to be, as one interviewee pointed out, “selling out the blood of their family members.” Several interviewees also said this solution is problematic, because, “if money could simply pay for forgiveness, it would make killing easier.” However, some did support the idea, recognising its potential to avoid further bloodshed. They suggested that “the price should be very high so that no one would think of resorting to violence in the first place.”

What has recently impacted the occurrence of blood feuds, in Khost at least, is also the establishment of what many perceive as improved rule of law brought about by the Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan (IEA) following their takeover of the country. For decades, formal law had limited reach in Khost, a province long characterised by a weak state presence. Communities managed their affairs through local tribal laws which often contradicted formal legal standards and directly contributed to the continuation and escalation of feuds between families and tribes. This, coupled with the division of territorial control between the state and insurgents over the last two decades, made applying the rule of law nearly impossible. One interviewee explained:

When someone killed another in [a government-controlled area] they would flee to [a Taliban-controlled area] to avoid arrest. And when someone killed another in [a Taliban-controlled area] they would escape to [a government-controlled area] and roam freely there.

With the arrival of the IEA as the de facto authority, state control has extended to almost every part of the country. The law, which is based on Islamic sharia and Hanafi jurisprudence, is applied more consistently throughout the country. Revenge killings are discouraged and largely replaced with judicial proceedings or informal jirga resolution. In Khost in particular, given its strong tribal traditions, the Taliban informed locals that anyone newly engaging in baadi would be treated as criminals. When someone is killed in a dispute, the expectation is no longer for the victims’ family to immediately retaliate. Instead, the perpetrator is meant to be arrested by the Taliban’s security forces and brought before a court, where a sentence is issued in accordance with sharia.

An example of this took place in January 2025, when thirteen members of a family, including a pregnant woman and children, were murdered in Khost’s Alisher district. The author found that the attack stemmed from a long-standing feud with another family. However, instead of the victims’ relatives pursuing another cycle of revenge, the state intervened and arrested the suspected perpetrators. Their case is now before the court and according to an official familiar with the incident, they could face the death penalty if sufficient evidence is gathered (The Afghan Times).

This increased power of the state’s police and judiciary, while still not without exceptions, has directly contributed to the decrease in new feuds in the province. One interviewee explained: “In our village, a man was killed by another. The killer fled, but within a week, the Taliban arrested a suspect. His case is now with the judiciary and he will likely be executed. When this happens, the victim’s family will feel that justice has been served and they no longer pursue revenge themselves.”

While cases of baadi still exist, they are now less likely to spiral into long-standing cycles of retaliation. The new legal mechanisms, although different from both the former state system and tribal norms, have provided, at least in part, an alternative framework for justice—one that many perceive as more structured and authoritative.

The Emirate has also launched an initiative to resolve feuds between families and tribes. An official from the Ministry of Borders and Tribal Affairs told AAN that “in the last three years, we have resolved over thirty feuds in Khost alone, some of which had been ongoing for over a hundred years.” A local official in Khost province similarly told AAN:

We have established a commission of elders, religious scholars and officials who travel to districts to identify feuds. They then engage with both parties and try to find common ground to resolve the issues. They have been, praise be to God, very successful.

In January 2024, Pajhwok Afghan News reported that a fifty-year-old feud between two families ended with the efforts of local authorities and tribal elders. Pajhwok reported the end of another blood feud in Khost in October 2024, again with the intervention of provincial authorities and tribal elders. An official from Khost police command told the author in February:

When a killing occurs, security personnel across the country work to apprehend the culprit. They also ensure that the victim’s family does not seek revenge. The family is summoned and we assure them that the perpetrator will be brought to Islamic justice.

Furthermore, in the past decade, the youth became more involved in resolving and preventing feuds. Unlike in the past, when tribes had limited interaction one with another, the younger generation is now far more connected and shares many common traits. One young interviewee, an NGO employee, said:

Youth now travel for tourism between districts and provinces and they’re classmates in universities and schools. They know each other even if they come from different tribes. They share similar values and behaviours because they study in the same institutions. What particularly distinguishes Khost is the strong cohesion and social bonds among youth. They’re energetic and passionate about eliminating old, dark traditions. When they hear of a feud, they often encourage elders to intervene and resolve it. And if the elders don’t act, they themselves reach out to the youth from both sides of the feud and do their best to mediate.

Another interviewee mentioned that he has witnessed cases where feuds had just started and youth took to the social media platform Facebook to campaign to help end the conflict. He said:

These days, people use Facebook a lot. I remember there was a feud over a forest in the Tanai district and tensions were rising. The youth started a campaign on Facebook, calling on religious scholars, elders, and the government to intervene. In the end, they succeeded in organising a jirga where the feud was resolved peacefully.

These developments precede the rule of the Emirate. In 2016, for example, young people in Khost organised and initiated a campaign, demanding that the government, tribes and communities put an end to forced marriages and baad marriages. While the youth may not be able to intervene due to a lack of social capital, they can still play a role within the community, as one interviewee, a social activist in Khost city, explained:

When youth decide they want to engage in something, they often struggle to do so due to tribal norms that emphasise respect for and adherence to the elders. However, on another level, they begin their work and attempt to involve the elders, trying to convince them to participate in that work, as their input carries more influence and resonates more with others. For example, each member of the youth group tries to persuade the elder of his family, then they approach the village elder and the mullah to gain their support, and finally, they consult the tribal elders about specific issues, such as baadi. They then gather everyone under a common name and once assembled, they share their ideas with the elders, who will ultimately take action themselves.

This is a striking change from the past, when young people tended to obey their elders. While they may still lack full social influence in matters like blood feuds, they can act as mediators who facilitate their resolution.

Conclusion

These gradual yet profound shifts in societal norms and values, driven by broader transformations in the structure of Afghan society, are remarkable. Over the past several decades, the country has undergone an extended period of conflict, displacement and social dislocation. As people moved, both within the country or abroad, they were increasingly exposed to environments very different from the tightly bound, often isolated rural communities they had lived in. This exposure, combined with the expansion of access to education, the influence of urban life and the need to adapt to new social and economic realities, has played a critical role in reshaping collective understandings of identity, morality and the standards of acceptable behaviour.

One of the clearest expressions of this transformation is in the way communities now approach the concept of honour and the practices historically associated with it, especially blood feuds. These acts, though extreme, were not only accepted but even expected. However, as communities fractured under the pressure of war, displacement and poverty, and as youth in particular have sought work or education in urban centres or abroad, these old concepts and practices have come under significant scrutiny.

The decline in blood feuds seems to be driven by an evolving awareness among people themselves, particularly the younger generation, that such cycles of violence are neither sustainable nor morally defensible. Today, in many parts of the country, the moral authority that once underpinned the practice of blood feuds is being questioned. The scope of what constitutes an offense to one’s honour has narrowed and many now turn to religion or to broader values such as insaniyat, humanity, as more appropriate guides.

At the same time, it is important to distinguish between the structural and circumstantial drivers of this change. On the one hand, there are signs of deep and potentially lasting transformation. The generational shift in values, the role of education and migration and the growing presence of religious reinterpretation represent foundational changes that could remain over time.

On the other hand, some of the conditions that have supported this shift may be more fragile. For example, in areas where reduced conflict and better access to resources like water or land have diminished tensions, the decline in feuds may be contingent on continued stability. Should those resources become scarce again, or if political or economic uncertainty deepens, some of the older factors of conflict could re-emerge. Moreover, the long-term impact of Taliban governance remains unclear. While the current reduction in blood feuds predates their rule and was not primarily a result of formal sharia enforcement, their application of the rule of law and interpretation of justice and authority could deeply influence how communities respond to disputes in the future.

To sum up, the decline in blood feuds in Khost is neither accidental nor simply the product of top-down control. It is the result of complex, multi-layered changes in society which happened over decades.

Edited by Jelena Bjelica, Fabrizio Foschini and Rachel Reid

Revisions:

This article was last updated on 4 Aug 2025