Once a Beacon of Progress, AUAF’s Demise Under Taliban Rule Exposes the Human Cost of America’s Withdrawal

“It pains me how so many Afghans who supported America’s presence there were abandoned.”

Kabul — The American University of Afghanistan (AUAF), once hailed as a transformative force for democracy and education in a war-torn nation, now stands as a hollow shell of its former self.

Established in 2006 with U.S. backing, the university symbolized hope for a generation of Afghan students, particularly women, who flocked to its Kabul campus to pursue degrees in law, business, and public policy. But following the Taliban’s takeover in August 2021 and the abrupt withdrawal of American forces, AUAF shuttered indefinitely—its classrooms empty, its faculty scattered, and its students thrust into exile or hiding.

The collapse of AUAF is more than an institutional failure; it is a microcosm of the broader betrayal felt by Afghans who risked everything to support America’s two-decade mission. Among the critics is Jim Luce, head of Luce Family Charities, who reflects on the university’s fragile existence even during its peak.

“I was invited to speak at the campus during the university’s heydays,” Luce recalled in an interview. “But even then, the security precautions described for me—from deplaning to reaching the campus—made me realize the deep animosity the university faced.

“Although I appreciated the president’s invitation, a fine gentleman I had met at the U.N., I could not avoid the image of a boy holding his finger in the dyke.

“It occurred to me that the Taliban could sweep into [Kabul] in a power vacuum—which is exactly what occurred when the American troops abruptly departed. Additionally, it pains me how so many Afghans who supported America’s presence there were abandoned.”

A Dream Built on Shifting Sands

AUAF’s founding was steeped in idealism. Funded by the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) and private donors, the university aimed to cultivate Western-style critical thinking and leadership skills. At its height, it enrolled over 1,700 students, nearly 40% of whom were women. Graduates went on to work in government, NGOs, and multinational corporations, embodying the promise of a progressive Afghanistan.

But danger loomed. The Taliban viewed AUAF as a threat, targeting it repeatedly. In 2016, a terrorist attack killed 15 people, including students and faculty. Security measures became draconian: armored vehicles, biometric checks, and blast walls. Yet students kept coming. “We believed education was our weapon,” said former student Mariam Rahimi, now a refugee in Canada. “The university was our sanctuary.”

The Fall: “They Left Us to Die”

When U.S. forces began their withdrawal in 2021, AUAF’s leadership pleaded for help. Chaos erupted as the Taliban advanced. Professors burned records to protect students from retaliation. The U.S. government evacuated some staff and students in a last-minute airlift, but hundreds were left behind.

“The emails stopped. The promises vanished,” said Ahmad Jawid, a former engineering lecturer. “One day, we were discussing post-grad plans; the next, I was deleting my LinkedIn profile to avoid execution.”

Taliban fighters seized the campus weeks later, stripping classrooms of “un-Islamic” materials and converting dormitories into military barracks. Female students, barred from education under Taliban rule, now face forced marriages or house arrest.

Global Silence, Local Suffering

The international community has done little to revive AUAF. While international NGOs scramble to support Afghan refugees, the university’s alumni network operates underground, smuggling at-risk scholars to safety. Meanwhile, the Taliban’s Ministry of Education has replaced AUAF’s curriculum with religious studies, erasing decades of progress.

Jim Luce’s metaphor of “a boy with his finger in the dyke” proved tragically prescient. “The U.S. built institutions without securing their foundations,” he said. “When the floodgates opened, everything washed away—including the people who trusted us.”

A Legacy of Abandonment

The tragedy of AUAF underscores a broader failure. Thousands of Afghan allies—interpreters, aid workers, and educators—remain trapped under Taliban rule, their lives in peril. Congressional efforts to expand visas have stalled, and humanitarian aid is sparse.

“We weren’t just abandoned—we were erased,” said former AUAF administrator Zarifa Ghafari, now in Germany. “America taught us to dream, then left us to nightmares.”

Conclusion: “Education Cannot Be Bombed Away”

Despite the devastation, AUAF’s spirit endures. Alumni in diaspora continue their studies online, vowing to rebuild. “The Taliban can close a university, but they can’t kill curiosity,” said Rahimi.

For Jim Luce, the lesson is clear: “True partnership means standing by people even when the cameras leave. Afghanistan’s scholars and students deserve more than thoughts and prayers—they deserve action.”

As the world turns its gaze elsewhere, the ruins of AUAF stand as a silent indictment of broken promises—and a testament to the unyielding resilience of those who still dare to learn.

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Collapse of American U. of Afghanistan: Broken Promises, Abandoned Hope (Feb. 22, 2025)