Trespassers on Their Land: Nomads Displaced by Afghanistan’s Conservation Zones

For centuries, the Kuchis - Afghanistan’s nomadic pastoralists - have followed their ancestors' time-worn migratory routes across mountains, deserts and valleys, moving with the seasons and grazing their herds.

But now, many Kuchi families are finding those routes increasingly blocked - not by natural obstacles, but by expanding conservation zones and new Taliban regime-enforced restrictions.

"They told us this land is now protected," said Gul Rahman, a 45-year-old herder resting beside his caravan of camels as his flock grazed nearby, on the eastern outskirts of Kabul. "But who protected this land before? We did."

Rahman is a father of six and lives in a typical Kuchi joint family with his widowed mother and nine other married and single siblings. He is among thousands of Kuchis who say they are being pushed out of the pastures that they have relied on for generations in many parts of northern and central Afghanistan.

In the past few years, before and after the Taliban takeover, Afghanistan’s efforts to create protected ecological zones have accelerated, often with backing from international environmental organisations and agencies. But these moves, while aimed at preserving biodiversity, are creating a crisis for communities whose way of life is deeply tied to the land.

A changing social and environmental climate

The rapid population growth in Afghanistan, mainly in urban areas, has resulted in a densification as well as 'spatial' expansion of informal, unplanned and underserviced areas. People often live in inadequate living conditions, at risk of forced evictions.

Stephanie Loose, Country Programme Manager for UN-Habitat Afghanistan, told FairPlanet that land rights are, overall, a highly political question in the country, and have been for decades. "The UN puts many project safeguards to guard against negative impacts on Afghanistan’s people, including considerations on human rights, both social and environmental, and the UN as a whole engages with the de facto Authorities (Taliban) as well as communities on all areas of mandate delivery, including assistance," she said. 

Loose noted that the Taliban regime has implemented changes. The “Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice” law, promulgated in August 2024, for instance, prevents Afghan women humanitarian workers from attending their work, which interferes with UN Programs, delaying essential support. The UN works closely with communities, listening to their needs and responding to their challenges. 

Climate change-induced displacement affects the Kuchis, as well as farmers and other individuals with livelihoods in the agricultural and pastoral sectors. There is an indication that people are looking for new opportunities and seeking access to basic services by moving to urban areas. According to the latest estimates, less than 30 per cent of the population resides in urban areas, but this number has been on the rise, and cities are not adequately prepared. 

"As an agency, our main focus is currently on both humanitarian and basic human needs support – including shelter rights and basic services, restoration, construction of community infrastructure, climate resilience and disaster risk reduction," explained Loose.

According to the FAO’s report on rangeland management and biodiversity conservation in Afghanistan, increasing land degradation, caused by overgrazing and deforestation, is contributing to desertification, which affects 75 per cent of the land area in the northern, western, and southern regions. A further 80 per cent of the land area is estimated to be at risk of soil erosion.

Frequent droughts, dwindling water sources, and degraded pastures have made it increasingly difficult for the Kuchis to support their livestock, which is vital to their economy and culture. The changing climate affects ecosystems and biodiversity, which further intensifies tensions over land and resources, increasing the Kuchis' vulnerability and marginalisation within Afghan society.

Like most Kuchi families, Rahman’s family is large, with extended kinship networks that live and travel together in caravans. Their lifestyle is centred around livestock herding - primarily sheep, goats, and camels - which serves as both their main source of income and cultural identity. 

Living in tents and makeshift shelters, they have historically relied on customary migration routes between lowland winter pastures and highland summer grazing areas.

Conservation without community, when protection becomes dispossession

As per the country’s National and Statistical Organisation, out of the total 34.9 million people in the country, some 1.5 million people (4.3 per cent) are nomads.

Rahman told Fair Planet that women and children in particular face severe health and social challenges as they live far from clinics or hospitals, and seasonal migration makes consistent medical care nearly impossible. His ailing mother, 66-year-old Zareena Bibi, said that things were always tough for their community, but now they are getting worse. 

"I have seven daughters and three sons - two of them have wives and children too. We all sleep in one tent, boys and girls together, along with other families. Life is very hard," Bibi said. "We dream of having our proper and non-controversial lands for grazing, without any troubles. We want a comfortable life and want to see our children go to study and have a better life," she explained.

Since the Taliban's return to power in 2021, environmental conservation in line with Islamic teachings by Afghan Taliban officials in public meetings has become part of its broader push to seek international legitimacy. With some support from non-governmental organisations, protected areas like the Band-e Amir National Park in Bamyan, the Nuristan National Park and Wildlife Reserve in Nuristan Province and Pamir-i-Buzurg Wildlife Reserve in Badakhshan Province have been expanded.

The Taliban regime has not yet been officially recognised by any country since the group toppled the west-backed democracy back in August 2021. Critics argue the Taliban's efforts rely on models that ignore local ecological knowledge, especially that of the nomadic Kuchis.

"These policies come from a mindset that nature needs to be protected from people," said Dr. Sami Abdul, an Afghan environmental scientist based in Kabul, formerly associated with the country’s environment protection agency. "But in our context, nomads are part of the landscape. They’ve helped maintain ecological balance through traditional grazing patterns."

Abdul stressed that rotational grazing - the seasonal movement of livestock - not only prevents overgrazing but supports soil and pasture regeneration. Speaking to FairPlanet, he explained that removing nomads from these ecosystems could have the opposite of the intended conservation effect.

The Kuchis have traditionally travelled from warm lowlands in winter to high-altitude grazing lands in the summer. But new conservation zones in the central highlands in Afghanistan, as well as the plains in the South, growing land scarcity, and worsening climate conditions are cutting off access at every turn.

According to a UNHCR report, Kuchis made up 60 per cent of the internally displaced people in southern Afghanistan. With 90 per cent of their livestock lost and water remaining scarce, this report questioned whether their lifestyle was at all feasible or sustainable. 

It noted that the real challenge is creating livelihood opportunities in the Kuchi areas of origin. Projects such as shelter and infrastructure, income-generating activities, cash assistance and supporting community-based intervention aim for long-term reintegration.

Another dilemma for Kuchis like Zareena and Rahman is the land disputes between them and the settled communities. These matters have now intensified under current conditions. In multiple provinces, including Takhar, Ghazni, and Badghis, disputes have erupted over grazing rights and ancestral land claims, sometimes escalating into violence and even deaths.

In Khwaja Bahauddin district of Takhar, for example, conflict broke out soon after the Taliban came to power when locals accused some displaced returnees, a few identified as Kuchis, of forcibly reclaiming lands abandoned during earlier conflicts.

"These are deeply rooted, unresolved conflicts," said historian Mohammad Nizam, former member of the Academy of Sciences. "Afghanistan has never had a clear, enforced system of land rights. That vacuum allows disputes to fester, and sometimes explode," he told FairPlanet.

Similar incidents have been reported in Jowzjan, Faryab, and northern Baghlan, where returning Kuchi families face hostility from local residents and unclear legal standing.

Old paths, new roadblocks

Experts agree that Afghanistan’s fragile ecosystems face serious threats - from poaching and deforestation to mining and unregulated development. But many argue that excluding the people who have long stewarded these lands is both unjust and counterproductive.

"If you evict the people who know how to live with the land, you lose both biodiversity and cultural heritage," said environmentalist Sami Abdul.

In this backdrop, some conservation programmes around the world, in places like East Africa and India, offer potential. These include models of indigenous agriculture, traditional water conservation and forest management. Such initiatives allow local and indigenous communities to co-manage protected areas.

Afghanistan had begun to explore such models before 2021, including efforts to involve Kuchi elders in biodiversity monitoring and pasture planning through consultation and community meetings. But many of those initiatives were paused or cancelled after the Taliban takeover.

Still, signs of engagement are emerging. In several provinces, informal discussions between the Taliban and nomadic leaders are underway. A 2023 study by the Aga Khan Foundation found that nearly 70 per cent of Kuchi families would be open to participating in conservation programs, provided their grazing rights and freedom of movement are respected.

"Our way of life has always been about balance," said Allam Khan, another Kuchi herdsman, adding that they have been seen as "trespassers" in many places. "We didn’t take more than we needed. We moved with the seasons. We cared for this land. Now they say we are harming it!"

For Gul Rahman, Allam Khan and many other Kuchis, the label of "trespasser" cuts deep. 

Allam Khan looked towards a trail between rocky mountains. Tufts of dry grass clung stubbornly to the rocky soil, and the wind stirred loose dust into the air, blurring the outlines of the peaks under a white-hot sky.

A route he can no longer follow, once open but now fenced off in the name of protection.

"We don’t want charity," he said. "We just want to live like we always have - with the land, not apart from it."

Image by Mustafa.