How a rewritten legal system leaves women with fewer protections and even fewer places to turn 

In Afghanistan, the courtroom has long been an uncertain place for women seeking protection from abuse. Under a newly published penal code introduced by the Taliban, that uncertainty has deepened into something far more troubling. 

The Independent article detailed how the 90-page criminal code, signed by Taliban supreme leader Hibatullah Akhundzada, reshapes the country’s legal landscape. The changes do more than alter procedures. They redefine who holds power, who receives protection, and who is left exposed. 

At the center of concern is how the new code treats women, particularly within marriage. 

When “Discretion” Becomes Permission 

One of the most alarming elements of the new code is its provision for “ta’zir,” or discretionary punishment. In cases involving a wife, this can translate into a husband administering physical punishment. The language effectively places husbands in a position of authority that critics say echoes the power of “slave masters,” a comparison drawn because the code differentiates punishments based on social status, even referencing categories such as “free” and “slave.” 

While the code includes a theoretical pathway for women to report serious assault, the barriers are steep. A woman must prove substantial bodily harm, physically present her injuries in court, remain fully covered, and be accompanied by a male chaperone, known as a mahram. In many cases, the required chaperone is the very person accused of harming her. 

A Kabul-based legal adviser, speaking anonymously due to safety concerns, described the process as “extremely lengthy and difficult.” She recounted the case of a woman beaten by a Taliban guard during a prison visit. When the woman attempted to file a complaint, officials refused to hear her case without her husband present. He was incarcerated at the time. “She cried and shouted in the public that death is better than the process she is going through,” the adviser said. “It is impossible for women to get any justice for an assault that happens to them.” 

Even in situations where a woman manages to navigate the legal hurdles and prove serious assault by her spouse, the maximum sentence her husband could face is reportedly 15 days. 

No Safe Return to Family 

Another provision intensifies the risk for women experiencing abuse at home. According to Rawadari, a human rights organization that monitors Afghanistan’s current leadership from exile, Article 34 of the code criminalizes women who repeatedly seek refuge at their parents’ home without their husband’s permission. Family members who shelter her can also face imprisonment. 

In practice, this removes one of the few informal protections women have relied on for generations. When formal legal remedies fail or feel inaccessible, returning to a parent’s home has often served as a temporary shield. Under the new code, that option can result in punishment for both the woman and her relatives. 

Rawadari stated that this provision “exposes them to continued domestic violence and strips them of family and community protection, the only remaining protection for women victims of domestic violence in absence of formal and legal remedies.” 

A Hierarchy Written Into Law 

The code does not only affect women. It introduces a hierarchy that determines punishment based not on the crime itself, but on the social standing of the accused. 

Religious scholars sit at the top of this structure and may receive only “advice” if they commit an offense. Members of the social elite can face a court summons or advisory action. Those classified as “middle class” may receive imprisonment, while individuals from the “lower class” face imprisonment combined with corporal punishment. 

Shaharzad Akbar, executive director of Rawadari, described it bluntly: “The mullah calls the shots, and the mullah gets all the privileges that ordinary people can’t.” In her assessment, religious scholars are effectively granted sweeping immunity, while systemic restrictions fall most heavily on women, girls, and minorities. 

Corporal punishment for serious crimes is also assigned to Islamic clerics rather than correctional services, reinforcing the central authority of religious figures within the justice system. 

A Sharp Shift From the Past 

The legal framework stands in stark contrast to measures introduced under the previous Afghan administration, which had criminalized forced marriage, rape, and other forms of gender-based violence. Domestic violence once carried prison sentences ranging from three months to a year. 

Under the current code, the absence of explicit condemnation of physical, psychological, or sexual violence against women leaves significant gaps. Rights advocates argue that silence in legal language can carry as much weight as explicit permission. 

Compounding the climate of fear, rights groups report that discussing or criticizing the new code has itself been deemed an offense. For many inside the country, speaking openly about its impact is fraught with risk. 

Living With the Consequences 

For women navigating daily life under these conditions, the law is no longer a source of protection. It can feel like an extension of the very systems that harm them. 

The legal adviser in Kabul summarized the situation with painful clarity: access to justice is not just limited, it is nearly unreachable. When legal procedures demand the presence of an alleged abuser, when refuge at a parent’s home becomes criminal, and when punishments hinge on social rank rather than harm caused, the balance of power shifts decisively away from the vulnerable. 

The story underscores more than a policy change. It reveals how legal structures can shape, and in some cases constrict, the boundaries of safety and dignity. For Afghan women, the implications reach far beyond the courtroom, touching the most intimate spaces of home and family life.