How a seemingly minor prohibition undermines mental well-being and deepens fear

In May 2025, the Taliban government announced a ban on chess in Afghanistan, citing its alleged non-compliance with the Sharia law. In the face of the ongoing human rights atrocities committed by the Taliban administration, from banning women’s voices in public (ABC News 2024) to banning live broadcasts of political programmes (Human Rights Watch 2025), the ban on chess appears trivial. However, it is reflective of a larger political agenda to exert control, enforce surveillance and cultivate a pervasive sense of fear among the people. Like the ban on kite-flying (BBC 2022) and video games (Times of India 2025), the ban on chess is one of the Taliban’s “invisible punishments” that chip away at the human spirit, in turn diminishing the capacity of critical thought in the populace while further marginalising vulnerable groups. Consequently, this leaves them subservient and resigned to a life of oppression.

The ban is not a random decision. It stems from years of fear of chess players. In 2002, during the Taliban’s first term in power, it imprisoned two men for two days for playing chess, considering it a form of ‘gambling’. The chessboard was burnt, and the pieces were broken to bits (Counterpunch 2002). At its core, chess is a game of strategy, foresight and independent decision-making. The ability to predict an opponent’s move and outmanoeuvre them is crucial to a player’s victory. The Taliban fears that by fostering such analytical abilities, Afghan citizens might begin to question their rigid dogma and voice their dissent, ultimately threatening the regime’s fragile control. This highlights how the Taliban’s rule is inherently based on its populace’s intellectual complicity and enforced ignorance. The ban on chess is reflective of their fear of intellectually engaged citizens who are capable of organising resistance and formulate alternatives to challenge the Taliban’s authority. As a result, chess became a chilling metaphor for unspoken dissent and unformulated plans that are stifled before they can even begin.

While the official rationale for banning chess cited “gambling prevention”, the Taliban’s discomfort with the game’s powerful queen piece may also legitimise the ban. Being the most powerful piece on the chessboard, the queen can move diagonally, horizontally and vertically for any distance. Capturing this piece is crucial to a player’s victory- killing the queen effectively kills the opponent’s game. This importance carries great symbolic weight in Afghanistan, highlighting the dominance of the queen in contrast to the oppressed state of women in the country. In a regime where women are denied education, employment, freedom of movement, and even their public voice, the notion of a ‘queen’ holding such ultimate power by dictating the flow of the entire game threatens the Taliban’s radical misogynistic ideology. This ban, therefore, functions not only to keep the populace intellectually subservient but also to actively suppress any potential symbolic inspiration for women to challenge their lack of agency and freedom under the regime.

This suppression of female agency is not merely confined to the chessboard. For more than three years, the Taliban has banned women from participating in all sports (OHCHR 2024). Female Afghan athletes live in exile, usually competing under the refugee category of the Olympics and Paralympics. The Afghan women’s cricket team has been based in Australia since 2021, having been granted emergency visas by the Morrison government upon their arrival in Pakistan (Sky Sports 2024). Consequently, chess remained one of the few remaining avenues for women to compete and engage in sporting activity. With that being banned, there remains virtually no form of entertainment left for women in the country.

The impact of the ban is not merely restricted to women. It has adversely affected the social lives of the Afghan youth and chess enthusiasts. Prior to the ban, several cafes in Kabul hosted informal chess tournaments. Both café owners and players considered the game one of the few neutral spaces left to form friendships, while simultaneously engaging in silent intellectual rebellion (Hindustan Times 2025). These tournaments offered respite to socially isolated Afghans, providing them the opportunity to meet like-minded individuals in the grim, dystopian daily reality of Taliban-ruled Afghanistan. The ban on chess has cut the populace off from a sphere to socialise, thereby deepening their sense of isolation and fear.

Despite its ban and disappearance from Afghan daily life out of safety concerns, no clear-cut punishment has been laid out for those violating the chess ban. This ambiguity has been carefully crafted to instil a deeper fear of the Taliban administration into its citizenry. Punishment aside, it has not clearly laid down rules for what constitutes “playing chess”. The only takeaway from the ban is that an Afghan caught playing chess in public would fall victim to the draconian system of punishment, leaving the Afghans with a pervasive fear of the unknown. They are left questioning whether their pastimes, daily activities, interactions and private lives align with the Taliban’s interpretation of the Sharia law. Under ordinary circumstances, questioning authority is a sign of a healthy society; in Afghanistan, it stems from the fear of persecution and a subsequent pressure to comply. In turn, the constant feeling of being watched and internal policing takes the psychological toll on the Taliban’s subjects to an unprecedented level- thereby placing the country at the bottom of the World Happiness Index 2025.

While the pervasive situation of unhappiness cannot be easily or quickly reformed, certain measures can be taken by the international community regarding the chess ban. As a signatory to the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR) and International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR), international organisations can call out Afghanistan on the ban, stating that it directly contravenes its commitment to enforcing both treaties. Specifically, Article 15 of the ICESCR enshrines the right of everyone to participate in cultural life, to enjoy the benefits of scientific progress, and to benefit from the protection of moral and material interests resulting from scientific, literary, or artistic production (OHCHR n.d.). Similarly, Article 27 of the ICCPR protects the right of persons belonging to minorities to enjoy their own culture (United Nations 1966).

Thus, the Taliban’s ban on chess is more than a mere moral decree. Rather, it is a carefully crafted political strategy seeking to sow the seeds of doubt and further the fear factor among its citizens. This strategy, akin to an invisible punishment, further erodes the mental well-being of ordinary Afghans by depriving them of a valuable opportunity to socialise. In turn, the fear and hopelessness combine to create a crisis of critical thought in Afghanistan. Only by acknowledging the significance of the ban can the world truly comprehend the extent of the Taliban’s assault on Afghan society and the urgent need for sustained pressure for fundamental human rights.

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