Uncharted Thoughts.

“We will be given back into the hands of our fathers’ killers.” 

My phone buzzed, waking me from an otherwise peaceful slumber. The horrors of yesterday’s interviews with Afghan refugees were still whirling around my mind—a carousel of trauma, desperation, and resilience. I braced myself for another emotionally taxing day, one I suspected would test my resolve even further. 

I was quickly running out of days, and every moment within Pakistan was vital. The plan was to travel to Attock, a small historic town an hour’s drive northwest of Islamabad. Once there, after some strong chai tea and a Pakistani breakfast of paratha and eggs, I was due to meet three female Afghan refugees fleeing the Taliban. 

Armed with consent forms, a list of questions, and a voice recorder, I snatched up my phone to order an iDrive, Pakistan’s version of Uber. 

Three missed calls, and several texts from Darya, one of the interviewees from yesterday. 

“Hi Jack, the police are searching for people tonight. I am scared that they will find us,” said the first text, sent at 3:26 a.m. My stomach dropped. 

The second text: “Some girls have been deported tonight. The police were at the door. We had to pretend not to be home and turn off all the lights.” 

The presence of police in Islamabad is unmissable. Armed police checkpoints block roadways between city districts. Officers pull over vehicles, ask for identification papers, check number plates, and sweep for contraband. 

A moral dilemma quickly washed over me—one I had not fully prepared for. Although I was unable to stop deportations, I still had a duty of care to these desperate, brave women. Their safety was my concern and responsibility, as much as it was for me to tell their stories to the world. 

I was twelve interviews down, with three to go. If I travelled to Attock, I could bring unwanted attention to the girls and their homes. A white man in Pakistan is rare enough as it is—let alone in Attock, let alone in an area that houses poor refugees. 

If they travelled to me, there was a chance they would be pulled over by the police and deported back to Afghanistan—back into the hands of their oppressors. If I didn’t go, would they think me a coward? Is it not my job as a journalist to face these dangers head-on? 

There had been several scary moments in Pakistan; it is hard to know whom to trust. I had set up these interviews in an Airbnb, my presence in Pakistan known, yet the nature of my work somewhat a secret. If the receptionist was obliged, he could inform the police of the interviews being conducted in room 11A—that many Afghan women were entering and leaving in large groups over a period of five days. A taxi driver could inform authorities after witnessing refugees leaving his vehicle and meeting a British man outside an Airbnb. The red scare has turned white—the colour of the Taliban flag. 

Pakistan’s mass deportation of Afghan refugees began just over a month ago, in July, after the government issued an executive order to deport the 1.4 million registered Afghan refugees residing in relative safety within its borders. 

The country has justified these otherwise internationally condemned actions on the grounds that there are economic and security risks to its people—security risks caused by multiple attacks on Pakistan from the Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan, an armed terrorist organisation within the Pakistani border. According to Pakistan’s Interior Minister, Sarfraz Bugti, ‘14 of 24 suicide bombings’ were by the Tehrik-e-Taliban Pakistan in 2023. 

So far, though the reporting is scarce and often unreliable, Al Jazeera has suggested that almost 60,000 Afghans have been deported back to Afghanistan since Prime Minister Shehbaz Sharif announced the three-phase plan to send them back to their home country in October last year. The UN suggests a much higher number—352,000 from Pakistan alone. 

Phase one of the three-stage plan sees the deportation of all undocumented refugees. Phase two, all those with Afghan Citizen Cards (ACC), and finally, anyone holding Proof of Registration (PoR) cards. 

In 2023, the Ministry of Interior went as far as to ask fellow citizens to help with the illegal immigrant hunt—‘to report to the authorities about the presence of illegal foreigners in their localities’. 

Hinagul, a mother of three and a homeowner in Islamabad, remarked, “They [refugees] are driving up rent in the area. Their situation is terrible, and I wish them safety, but this cannot go on.” 

Neighbouring countries such as Iran have already deported a large number of Afghans living within their borders. According to the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR), 5,000 to 30,000 are being deported daily since the 12-day conflict between Israel and Iran earlier this year. 

“The sheer volume of returns—many abrupt, many involuntary—should be setting off alarm bells across the global community,” said Roza Otunbayeva, the UN Special Representative for Afghanistan. 

This already tragic humanitarian crisis is worsened by the economic and political instability within Afghanistan. While deportation is already an undesired and complex issue, those returning to Afghanistan face an illegitimate, violent, and unforgiving government waiting to receive them. 

Afghanistan’s economic and social situation has drastically deteriorated since the collapse of the republic in August 2021. Human rights protections have plummeted to the second worst in the world, with a 0.04 score on the Human Rights Index. 

Malnutrition, a surge in drug abuse and homelessness, a lack of water in major cities, and poor infrastructure have caused Afghanistan to fall into a totalitarian nightmare. 

In a country with both the highest maternal mortality rates in the world and a 48% poverty rate, an influx of six or seven million from beyond its borders will have a devastating effect on the country’s economy and humanitarian crisis. 

Razia, an Afghan refugee living in Pakistan, said: “There is a big risk of genocide if we return, because all those who came from Afghanistan to Pakistan are at big risk of their lives being threatened. If we are deported back, there is a big risk to our lives.” 

“They [the Taliban] said that any refugee that comes back to Afghanistan, we won’t forgive them. Any crimes that they have committed before they left—we will punish them for these crimes.” 

Crimes, it should be noted, that are defined by the new Taliban law. Laws which, according to Dr Niamatullah Ibrahimi, a senior researcher for The Initiative for Peacebuilding, are said to “target women and minorities.” 

This means that the Taliban may seek legal action against women and men who have breached the rules of the newly adopted “Propagation of Virtue and Prevention of Vice”. These ‘laws’ enforce such rules as: ‘A woman should cover her face to prevent some fitna [social disorder or chaos, which can itself facilitate sin] taking place.’ That ‘it is forbidden for unrelated men to look at a woman’s body or face. Likewise, women are not allowed to look at strange men.’ Or ‘The sound of a woman’s voice or any music emanating from any gathering or from the home.’ 

“If a Hazara, or anyone, goes back to Afghanistan, they will be tortured if they continue to speak out against them.” 

The Hazara community is just one of the many ‘at risk’ minorities facing deportation and ill-treatment from the Taliban. Women, Shia Muslims, journalists, writers, activists, and any other ethnic minorities face ‘significant threat’ to their lives, according to UN and UK sources. 

This decision to deport Afghan nationals clashes with international law. International law, set by the United Nations, states that ‘No State Party shall expel, return (“refouler”) or extradite a person to another State where there are substantial grounds for believing that he would be in danger of being subjected to torture.’ 

Pakistan has come under fire from the international community, as organisations and leaders condemn the mass deportation. UN experts urge Pakistan ‘not to proceed with plans to forcibly remove Afghans from the cities of Islamabad and Rawalpindi, nor to deport them to Afghanistan.’ 

Yet, in August 2025, amidst my investigation and international condemnation, the Pakistani government has opted to ‘widen’ its deportation process. 

It took several minutes for me to decide. I had come all the way to Pakistan to hear these dreadful stories, but could I live with myself if one of the girls was deported travelling to me—or if I had brought awareness to their location and an entire house of people, families, were deported back into the hands of their oppressors? No, was my conclusion. 

“Dear Nadia,” my text began, “It has come to my attention that last night there were many deportations across Islamabad and the surrounding areas. I fear that my presence will attract unwanted attention, and if you or any of the girls were to be deported due to my actions, I do not think I could live with that guilt. Perhaps we could conduct the interview online? Best wishes, Jack.” 

My message was met with admiration, yet frustration. 

“I truly appreciate your understanding and consideration. Unfortunately, the current situation is as you mentioned, and the deportations have intensified,” Nadia began. “Since yesterday, the process of arresting and deporting migrants has begun again, and the Pakistani government is detaining and deporting people from Islamabad, Quetta, and other provinces of Pakistan.” 

Stephanie Loose, Programme Manager in Afghanistan, told journalists last month that “The real challenge is still ahead of us.” 

“We’re speaking about the reintegration of people who’ve lost their homes, who’ve lost their assets, and also their hope.” 

Nadia’s father was killed by the Taliban in 2019. They were imprisoned briefly following a long legal battle under the watchful supervision of America and her allies. While his killers were sentenced to twenty years in prison, upon the Taliban’s occupation, they were released. 

Nadia, her family, and friends who fled to Pakistan in search of shelter risk being thrust back into the hands of their fathers’ killers. With no home, no jobs, and little support from the international community, their lives look bleak. 

“If I get deported, I will end up living among my father’s killers,” she said. “Me and my family will never be safe.” 

Hasina, another Afghan refugee tells of the fear she lives in each day “We cannot go out sometimes in fear of police, every day we are worrying about them and what they would do if they found us” 

“My life is one of fear, for me and for my family”. 

Mr Richard Bennett, UN Special Rapporteur, said in a meeting with the Hazara Council of Great Britain last week: “There is a crisis with the forced returns. I don’t place all the responsibility on the neighbouring countries. I think countries further afield need to do more. 

“Those in Europe and America do not want Afghan migrants, but they have responsibilities as well. So, it is a more complex issue—we are seeing people being returned from Europe as well.” 

As seen in Germany in recent months and vocalised by Nigel Farage at the Reform launch of Operation Restoring Justice for the next UK election. International communication with the Taliban is on the rise, as is their legitimacy. 

In a press release published on 5th August 2025, Mr Baloch, spokesman for the UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR), said: “We acknowledge and appreciate Pakistan’s generosity in hosting refugees for over 40 years amid its own challenges. 

“However, given that those holding PoR cards have been recognised as refugees for decades, their forced return is contrary to Pakistan’s long-standing humanitarian approach to this group and would constitute a violation of the principle of non-refoulement.”