The Torkham crossing, a desolate and dusty frontier point known starkly as "Zero Point," serves as a harrowing portal where one arduous chapter of life closes and another, equally uncertain, begins for millions of Afghans. Here, the aged grimace, hobbling on crutches, their faces etched with the weariness of forced migration, while wide-eyed children clutch chickens—the last vestiges of homes they were compelled to abandon. This stark tableau represents the epicentre of the world’s largest cross-border movement of people, a humanitarian crisis unfolding at an unprecedented pace.
Nazia, 35, articulates the bittersweet irony of her arrival. "It feels good to be in my own country," she states, mere minutes after stepping onto Afghan soil, a land she has never known. Born and raised in Pakistan, her entire existence has been uprooted. Yet, the relief is quickly tempered by apprehension. "But I’ve never been to Afghanistan before, and many people here don’t even have enough bread to eat," she sighs, her gaze falling upon the registration counters adorned with the white and black flags of the Taliban, two of her children clinging to her side. Her story is not isolated; nearly her entire extended family—eight sisters and their offspring—have been deported to Afghanistan this year from either Pakistan or Iran, caught in a sweeping crackdown on undocumented migrants.
The Unprecedented Scale of Return: A Nation Overwhelmed
The scale of this forced repatriation is staggering. In a little under three years since the Taliban’s resurgence in August 2021, approximately six million people—a population equivalent to a small nation—have returned to Afghanistan, according to the UN’s Refugee Agency (UNHCR). This year alone, another million have been compelled to cross back from Pakistan and Iran. "We’ve never seen in recent history a return movement on this scale," emphasizes Charlie Goodlake, spokesperson for the UNHCR in Afghanistan, speaking from the baking heat of a temporary tented village near the Torkham border. This desolate landscape of tarpaulin and plastic shelters, many already tattered, offers only ephemeral refuge for those arriving with nowhere permanent to go.
Many of these returnees have not set foot in Afghanistan for decades; some, like Nazia, have never known it as home. Sarwar, who arrived days earlier with seven brothers and their families in a convoy of 40 people, their worldly possessions crammed into a lumbering Pakistani lorry, exemplifies this generational displacement. "I left 45 years ago during the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, and most of my brothers were born in Pakistan," he recounts. "We spent a long time there, so of course, I felt heartbroken when they forced us out of our home." Despite the profound pain of severance, a flicker of relief remains: "But, despite all that pain, I am also happy because I am finally free of harassment by Pakistan’s police."
Decades of Displacement, A New Chapter of Expulsion
The current crisis is rooted in decades of regional instability and conflict. Millions of Afghans sought refuge or employment in neighbouring Pakistan and Iran following the Soviet invasion in 1979, successive civil wars, the Taliban’s initial rule in the late 1990s, and the prolonged conflict post-2001. Pakistan alone has hosted one of the world’s largest refugee populations for over four decades, peaking at millions. Similarly, Iran has been a significant host country for Afghan migrants, both documented and undocumented.
However, the political and security landscape shifted dramatically with the Taliban’s return to power in August 2021. This event triggered renewed waves of internal displacement and international migration, even as host countries began to reassess their policies towards Afghan populations within their borders. The past year has seen an aggressive acceleration of deportations, driven by a complex mix of security concerns, economic pressures, and domestic political considerations in Pakistan and Iran.
In Pakistan, the crackdown intensified following a major escalation in fighting between Pakistani forces and elements reportedly sheltering in Afghanistan last October. Pakistani authorities have explicitly stated that undocumented migrants pose a security risk and an economic burden. While the initial focus was on undocumented Afghans, human rights organizations like the UN and Human Rights Watch report that the security sweep has broadened to include registered Afghans. Pakistan has even publicly affirmed that Afghans holding Proof of Registration cards are no longer exempt from these measures, further eroding protections. Human Rights Watch, in a February report, documented "door-to-door raids, late-night home searches and arrests without warrants," highlighting the arbitrary and often brutal nature of these expulsions.
Iran, which claimed last year to host over four million undocumented Afghans, also accelerated its mass deportations. This was particularly evident after its 12-day war with Israel and the US in June 2025. The New York-based Centre for Human Rights in Iran accused Iranian authorities of exploiting the post-conflict climate to "cast suspicion on Afghan migrants – accusing them of espionage and branding them as potential spies for Israel." This tactic appears to have provided a pretext for widespread expulsions, irrespective of individual circumstances or the humanitarian principles of voluntary, safe, and dignified return advocated by the UNHCR.
Official Responses and Allegations of Abuse
The experiences of returnees consistently paint a picture of hardship and prejudice. "Every family we met told us they had experienced prejudice and harassment by authorities in Pakistan," notes Lyse Doucet, BBC’s Chief International Correspondent. These accounts range from arbitrary arrests and detention to extortion and confiscation of property, often leaving families destitute and traumatized.
When confronted with these allegations, the Pakistan government has maintained a defensive stance. While declining to respond directly to the BBC’s specific questions, a foreign ministry spokesman stated in a briefing in Islamabad that "the Government of Pakistan undertakes the necessary measures to prevent any instance of harassment or maltreatment of Afghan nationals in Pakistan. If such incidents have taken place, they are sporadic and are dealt with fully in accordance with the law." This official narrative, however, stands in stark contrast to the consistent reports from humanitarian organizations and the testimonies of returnees.
Amid international pressure, Pakistan did confirm on a recent Sunday that 16,000 vulnerable Afghans have been granted a temporary exemption from deportation on humanitarian grounds, a decision cautiously welcomed by the UN. However, sources estimate that the number of Afghans in Pakistan at risk of serious harm, including women and girls who would be denied education under the Taliban regime, could be as high as 250,000, indicating that the exemption addresses only a fraction of the critical cases.
The Shadow of Taliban Rule: Fears for Women and Former Officials
The return to Afghanistan, for many, is not merely a journey to a new land but a plunge into profound uncertainty, especially concerning the future under the Taliban’s austere rule. Inside a barren transit tent, offering little respite from the scorching 41°C heat, Zarina, Sarwar’s sister-in-law, articulates the pervasive fear. She sits among an anxious huddle of women and children, her veil partially obscuring her face as she turns to the camera. When asked about the future for women and girls in a country where the Taliban has systematically barred women from much of public life, including secondary school and university, she makes a sweeping gesture with her arm. "Look at them, they’re all girls. Of course, I’m worried." Her words underscore the profound anxiety for a generation whose educational and professional aspirations have been brutally curtailed.
For others, the fear is more immediate and existential. A former Afghan security guard, who faced deportation first from Iran and then from Pakistan, now lives in hiding far from the border in what he hopes is a safe house. "I don’t leave this house," he nervously confides. "We are all living in fear, including my wife and children, who are also afraid to go outside." He dismisses the Taliban government’s amnesty, announced days after their return to power, which purportedly offered protection to former government officials, security personnel, and civil servants. "I have no trust in their amnesty because many of my colleagues have been killed," he states, highlighting the pervasive mistrust and the documented instances of reprisals. He further reveals that his case had been registered with the UN for transfer to a safer country, but he was deported before any such arrangement could be finalized, illustrating the failures of international protection mechanisms amidst the rapid expulsions.
Afghanistan’s Capacity Crisis: A Nation Under Strain
The influx of millions of returnees exacerbates an already dire humanitarian situation in Afghanistan. The country’s economy has been in freefall since the Taliban takeover, compounded by the cessation of foreign aid and international sanctions linked to terrorism and human rights violations. The UN now estimates that 21.9 million people—nearly half the country’s population—will require assistance this year to survive. The UN’s children’s agency, UNICEF, reported last week that one million children face "life-threatening" malnutrition, a stark indicator of the deepening crisis.
"No country in the world could handle this kind of crisis on its own," assesses UNHCR spokesperson Charlie Goodlake, acknowledging the Taliban government’s efforts to help returnees upon arrival, albeit insufficient. However, he adds, "We also know that many of the restrictions and edicts they put in place, particularly on women and girls, don’t help us elicit international support." The policies that have drawn global condemnation directly undermine the international community’s willingness and ability to provide the necessary aid.
Taliban’s Perspective: Navigating Isolation and Regional Ties
At the graceful foreign ministry compound in Kabul, Taliban Foreign Minister Amir Khan Muttaqi attempts to project an image of resilience and self-reliance. "There’s no doubt that we need some help," he admits, acknowledging the immediate challenges. However, he maintains a long-term optimistic view: "There is pressure due to their return, but in the long run, it will benefit them as well as Afghanistan." This perspective often clashes with the immediate reality of widespread suffering and lack of resources.
In the initial years after the Taliban swept to power in 2021, some of their ministers notably downplayed humanitarian issues, suggesting that "God would provide." This stance has evolved slightly, but the core ideological commitments remain. Muttaqi reiterates his government’s long-standing position that matters like girls’ education are "internal issues" for Afghans to resolve, a clear rejection of international calls for universal education rights.
The severe restrictions on the lives of girls and women remain one of the most significant impediments to the Taliban’s international recognition and access to foreign aid. Five years on, only one country, Russia, has formally recognized their rule. When pressed on Kabul’s relative isolation from Western nations, Muttaqi points to deepening diplomatic and economic ties with neighbours such as China and India, as well as Central Asian states. He dismisses the Western approach, asking, "those who didn’t have relationships with us over the past five years, what have they achieved?" He answers his own question with a definitive "Nothing."
A Future Forged in Uncertainty
The irony of Muttaqi’s assertion is not lost on those living the harsh realities at "Zero Point." The same word—"nothing"—echoes in a profoundly different sense from every family encountered at the border. They are embarking on the hardest of homecomings, starting all over again in a land many do not know, under a regime that offers little solace, and with almost nothing to their names. The sheer scale of human suffering, the erosion of basic rights, and the dire economic outlook converge to paint a grim picture for Afghanistan and its forcibly returned citizens. The international community grapples with the ethical dilemma of providing aid without legitimizing the Taliban’s policies, while millions of Afghans navigate a future forged in uncertainty and desperation. The crisis at Torkham is not just a migration issue; it is a profound human tragedy with long-lasting implications for regional stability and global humanitarian efforts.
