Abdul Salam Zaeef (2011) My Life with the Taliban, Hurst.
Aniruddha Babar
“I was a Talib, I am a Talib, and I will always be a Talib, but I have never been a part of al-Qaeda.” With these unequivocal words, Abdul Salam Zaeef sets the tone for his deeply personal and politically charged memoir, My Life with the Taliban.
The book intertwines Zaeef’s personal journey with an insider’s perspective on the Taliban’s rise, ideology, and struggles., Zaeef provides a window into Afghanistan’s complex socio-political landscape, challenging dominant Western portrayals of the Taliban.
Far from a typical ideological exposition, Co-written with Alex Strick van Linschoten and Felix Kuehn, the memoir offers a raw, reflective insider’s account rooted in the lived realities of war, displacement, and cultural fracture. Zaeef’s narrative challenges dominant Western representations of the Taliban as a monolithic extremist entity, revealing a movement forged in the crucible of chaos and survival. His story, from his modest beginnings in Kandahar to his role as a founding member of the Taliban, grounded in memory and loss, humanizes a phenomenon often reduced to headlines and polemic, offering a rare perspective on Afghanistan’s turbulent history.
Zaeef opens with poignant recollections of his childhood in Kandahar, a city he describes with deep affection and nostalgia before the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979. That invasion, he argues, shattered Afghanistan’s cultural and political continuity, laying the groundwork for the Taliban’s emergence. Rather than portraying the Taliban as a theocratic or terrorist movement from inception, Zaeef frames it as a community-driven response to lawlessness, predation, and betrayal. This reframing is significant, departing from narratives of ideological radicalization and revealing the Taliban’s formative identity as a force for order in the absence of a functioning state. His account underscores the socio-political vacuum that enabled the Taliban’s rise, rooted in Afghanistan’s fractured landscape.
His emphasis on traditional Afghan governance structures, such as jirgas and shuras, illustrates this point further. According to Zaeef, the Taliban’s early mission was to restore justice and end corruption in a society crippled by warlordism and foreign interference. “We wanted to eliminate injustice and corruption... where no one was above the law,” he states. Yet, this idealism exists uneasily alongside the Taliban’s draconian practices, including the destruction of the Bamiyan Buddhas in 2001 and sweeping restrictions on women’s rights in Afghanistan. Zaeef justifies these measures on religious and cultural grounds, dismissing gender equality and co-education as alien impositions. His reasoning, while consistent with his worldview, highlights the contradictions between the Taliban’s pursuit of moral order and their authoritarian enforcement, raising critical questions about their governance model.
Zaeef’s interpretation of Islam is not that of a global revolutionary ideology but a source of personal and national dignity. Unlike the portrait of radical Islam in Lawrence Wright’s The Looming Tower, which explores the ideological roots of al-Qaeda, Zaeef’s Islam is introspective and culturally embedded. He views it as the moral bedrock for governance and justice within Afghanistan, not a tool for global expansionism. This perspective underscores the Taliban’s complex internal logic: they are not merely fighters but products of cultural trauma and fractured statehood seeking to restore national cohesion, however controversial their methods. Zaeef’s narrative thus challenges readers to reconsider the Taliban’s motivations beyond simplistic labels of extremism.
Equally illuminating is Zaeef’s critique of Pakistan’s Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), which he accuses of instrumentalizing the Taliban for its geopolitical ends. “The ISI did not help us; they used us for their own agenda,” he writes, highlighting a recurring theme of betrayal. His disillusionment deepens following 9/11, when Pakistan allied with the United States-led coalition, undermining Afghanistan’s sovereignty in Zaeef’s eyes. This reflects broader geopolitical tensions where Afghan identity and autonomy are often compromised by larger powers pursuing regional objectives, a dynamic that continues to shape Afghanistan’s fate.
Zaeef’s reflections on al-Qaeda are nuanced and revealing. He expresses profound regret over the Taliban’s association with the group and recounts his dread upon hearing of the 9/11 attacks, foreseeing catastrophic consequences for Afghanistan. “I have never been a part of al-Qaeda,” he insists, drawing a clear ideological and operational distinction. His imprisonment in Guantánamo Bay adds a harrowing dimension to the memoir. Describing systemic abuse and psychological torment, Zaeef depicts a place where “prisoners are the weakest people in the world… not even a person anymore.” He also reveals that the Taliban sought to resolve the Osama bin Laden issue through Islamic legal mechanisms, but these overtures were ignored by the United States, a missed diplomatic opportunity, he argues, that could have prevented war.
When viewed alongside Steve Coll’s Ghost Wars and Ahmed Rashid’s Taliban: Militant Islam, Oil and Fundamentalism in Central Asia, Zaeef’s memoir stands out for its grassroots perspective. While Coll and Rashid analyze the geopolitical architecture enabling extremism, Zaeef offers a bottom-up account shaped by lived experience and cultural rupture. His story is not just about policy and war but about the human consequences of power vacuums, betrayal, and foreign miscalculations. This personal lens makes the memoir a vital counterpoint to macro-level analyses, grounding abstract conflicts in human realities.
Zaeef’s reflections take on added relevance for India’s evolving role in Afghanistan. India has long positioned itself as a development partner, focusing on infrastructure, healthcare, education, and cultural ties. Zaeef’s emphasis on sovereignty and dignity aligns with India’s strategy of engagement without imposition. Recent developments illustrate this alignment. On January 8, 2025, Foreign Secretary Vikram Misri met Taliban Acting Foreign Minister Amir Khan Muttaqi in Dubai to discuss trade via Chabahar Port, humanitarian aid, and cricket diplomacy. The Taliban Foreign Ministry described India as a “significant regional and economic partner,” signaling a pragmatic shift.
This was followed by a historic call on May 15, 2025, when External Affairs Minister S. Jaishankar spoke with Muttaqi, thanking him for condemning the April 22 Pahalgam terror attack. This marked India’s first political-level contact with the Taliban since 1999–2000, a symbolic moment of mutual respect. In April 2025, Indian diplomat Anand Prakash visited Kabul, discussing visas for Afghan students, businesspersons, and patients. India allowed 160 Afghan trucks carrying dried fruits and nuts via the Attari border in May. By June 2025, India resumed issuing Afghan visas without altering its non-recognition stance, signaling strategic recalibration. This engagement reflects India’s humanistic approach towards Afghanistan as well as strategic interest in fostering peace and preventing extremism in the region without compromising its commitment to Afghan sovereignty and human rights.
In 2025, My Life with the Taliban by Abdul Salam Zaeef remains profoundly relevant, particularly for India and other nations seeking to navigate the intricate realities of Afghanistan and its regional influence. The book provides an unvarnished and unapologetic insight into the Taliban’s emergence, their governance ideals, and the historical injustices that fuelled their resistance. For a country like India, deeply invested in Afghanistan’s development and stability, understanding the Taliban’s ideology and motivations is crucial for fostering meaningful dialogue and building mutual trust. As one of Afghanistan’s most reliable partners, India’s contributions to infrastructure, education, and healthcare have demonstrated a steadfast commitment to the well-being of the Afghan people, aligning with the region’s broader aspirations for peace and prosperity. Moreover, India’s principled stance on respecting Afghan sovereignty and opposing external interference strongly echoes the themes of resilience and self-determination highlighted in Zaeef’s narrative, especially when contrasted with the West’s history of destabilising interventions that have often aggravated regional tensions and undermined local agency.
Ultimately, My Life with the Taliban is a compelling and multifaceted work that challenges simplistic portrayals of Afghanistan’s modern history, offering deeper insights that are indispensable for nations like India. By blending personal reflections with historical analysis, Zaeef provides a nuanced account of the ideological and geopolitical forces shaping his nation, revealing the complexities that underpin its struggle for stability. His narrative complements India’s efforts to support Afghanistan’s sovereignty and highlights the human dimensions of conflict, reminding readers of the enduring quest for identity and independence in a fractured nation. For countries confronting foreign intervention or ideological challenges, this account underscores the critical importance of respecting indigenous solutions and fostering authentic partnerships.
Zaeef’s memoir does more than narrate one man’s journey; it mirrors the broader struggles of Afghan society, over dignity, order, and belonging. The Taliban, as Zaeef presents them, are not merely a force of terror but historical actors born of dislocation, trauma, and a desire for sovereignty. Understanding them, even critically, is essential for lasting peace in South Asia. As global powers reconsider their approaches to Afghanistan, Zaeef’s work serves as a powerful reminder of the need to prioritise the aspirations of its people while cultivating a spirit of collaboration and mutual respect.
Dr. Aniruddha Babar is a Senior Faculty member in the Department of Political Science at St. Joseph College, Manipur, India & Deputy Director at the Centre for North-East Development and Policy Research (CNEDPR), Ukhrul, India.
