Photo Essay: India’s Lockdown Happened Two Years Ago, But the Poor Still Suffer

Sanket Jain February 7, 2022 Sanket Jain Admin, Archives, Asia

Sukumar Shinde, 52, who sells food items and snacks in rural fairs, says, “Because of the lockdown, I had to throw away several food items as they have a shorter shelf life.” / credit: Sanket Jain — Sukumar Shinde, 52, who sells food items and snacks in rural fairs, said, “Because of the lockdown, I had to throw away several food items as they have a shorter shelf life.” / credit: Sanket Jain

Balu Jadhav usually journeys through 60 villages 300 days a year, selling toys and artificial jewelry in India’s “jatras,” or rural village fairs.

So if Jadhav travels less than 1,000 miles a year, that’s a sign of distress.

“In the past two years, I covered only 150 miles,” he said.

His two-decade-long routine was broken in March 2020 when far-right Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi announced a 21-day nationwide lockdown to curb a pandemic caused by COVID-19, the novel coronavirus. The lockdown was extended to 67 days, causing 121 million people to lose their jobs within the first month. Yet, with this lockdown, India couldn’t contain the coronavirus. Meanwhile, because case numbers ebbed and flowed for two years, district administrators banned fairs.

With a history of over 150 years, these fairs remain an important source of income for marginalized people. In Jadhav’s home state of Maharashtra, located on India’s Arabian Sea coast, almost every village hosts an annual fair for a couple of days. Jatras are held in reverence of local deities. Rural vendors sell a variety of items, including toys, posters of regional deities, local books, footwear, artificial jewelry, balloons and household items. “A fair is like a festival and a holiday season for rural people,” said Gangabai, Jadhav’s wife. “Everyone prepares good food, dresses up and relatives from different villages attend the fair.”

With no option for selling goods, the Jadhavs were forced to work in 10 other occupations. They labored as farmworkers and masons, and in factories, but nothing helped them earn enough to survive. “There was no regular work because COVID devastated the rural economy,” she said.

The 2022 World Inequality Report states India is one of the most unequal countries in the world. Oxfam’s Inequality Kills report mentions, “The wealth of the 10 richest men has doubled, while the incomes of 99 percent of humanity are worse off, because of COVID-19.” Further, it found that a new billionaire was created every 26 hours since the pandemic began. Meanwhile, millions like Jadhav could barely find 26 hours of work per month during the peak of the pandemic.

After two years, local administrators in the village of Jambhali in Maharashtra’s Kolhapur district were permitted to arrange a fair that would be held January 1-2. Unfortunately, while the Jadhavs assumed it would help them sail, it was far from reality.

With rising coronavirus cases in January, reporting as high as 347,254 cases one day, several COVID restrictions were implemented again.

“We earned about 3,000 rupees ($40) from every fair before the pandemic. Now we are finding it difficult even to recover the transportation cost,” Balu Jadhav said. “Ever since COVID, people have stopped spending money because of dwindling wages.”

Hundreds of vendors in the Kolhapur district protested several times outside the local administrator’s office, demanding revocation of the ban on fairs. “Despite writing hundreds of letters, nothing concretized,” Jadhav said.

Anusuya Chavan, who lives in the same village as the Jadhav family, is in her mid-40s and sells toys. “This occupation forced us to never send the children to school, and with COVID, there’s no possibility that four of my children will ever see the school.” Her children, all below 18, are busy looking for work. “Earlier, we took loans to support our business, but now we are forced to take loans for eating food twice a day. It’s that bad.” Chavan has 13 members in her joint family and is in $670 debt. Her husband, Yuvraj, 50, has spent four decades traveling to sell at fairs. “My entire life has gone sleeping on roads,” he said. “But with lockdowns and curfews, we don’t even have roads on which to sleep.”

Vendors rely on informal loans to buy items to sell and pay them off immediately after fairs. “The moneylenders send their goons for collection, and we always pay on time,” Yuvraj said. However, with no sales, several vendors have been caught in debts of at least $3,350 each. High interest-rate fees have caused those debts to amass.

Meanwhile, fear, anger and frustration pile up, with another generation missing out on obtaining an education. That leaves Jadhav to vent.

“Even our children will have to live the same cursed life now.”

A view of the Jambhali fair at night. Vendors say they have never before seen such a low turnout / credit: Sanket Jain — A view of the Jambhali fair at night. Vendors said they had never before seen such a low turnout / credit: Sanket Jain

Vendors sell a variety of items, including toys, posters of regional deities, local books, footwear, artificial jewelry, balloons, household items, and much more in India's rural fairs. — Vendors sell a variety of items, including toys, posters of regional deities, local books, footwear, artificial jewelry, balloons, household items, and much more in India’s rural fairs / credit: Sanket Jain

“I’ve taken both the doses of vaccine and even follow COVID norms, yet the government hasn’t given permission for fairs,” said toyseller Yuvraj Chavan / credit: Sanket Jain — “I’ve taken both the doses of the vaccine and even follow COVID norms, yet the government hasn’t given permission for fairs,” said toyseller Yuvraj Chavan / credit: Sanket Jain

Kanthinath Ghotane has traveled from the neighboring Indian state of Karnataka state to sell keychains in the Jambhali fair of Maharashtra’s Kolhapur district / credit: Sanket Jain — Kanthinath Ghotane traveled from the neighboring Indian state of Karnataka state to sell keychains in the Jambhali fair of Maharashtra’s Kolhapur district / credit: Sanket Jain

Fairs are more like festivals, and are special occasions for rural people. During these fairs, every household creates in front of their homes beautiful rangolis, a traditional Indian art form, in which patterns are created on the floor using powder, flower petals, colors, colored sand and limestone / credit: Sanket Jain — Fairs are more like festivals, and are special occasions for rural people. During these fairs, every household creates in front of their homes rangolis, a traditional Indian art form, in which patterns are created on the floor using powder, flower petals, colors, colored sand and limestone / credit: Sanket Jain

Everyone (irrespective of their religion) first offers coconut and incense sticks in Jambhali’s Khwajaso dargah, a Muslim shrine, before visiting the fair. “These fairs are a sign of communal harmony,” said Sikandar Attar, a coconut and incense stick seller / credit: Sanket Jain — Everyone (irrespective of religion) first offers coconut and incense sticks in Jambhali’s Khwajaso dargah, a Muslim shrine, before entering the jatra. “These fairs are a sign of communal harmony,” said Sikandar Attar, a coconut and incense stick vendor / credit: Sanket Jain

Sikandar Attar, 69, who travels to more than 100 villages every year, sells incense sticks and coconuts offered to regional deities. He began working as a farmworker during COVID-19 restrictions. Even today, he hasn’t been able to find his way through to make ends meet / credit: Sanket Jain — Sikandar Attar, 69, who travels to more than 100 villages every year, sells incense sticks and coconuts offered to regional deities. He began working at farms during the COVID-19 lockdown. Even today, he hasn’t been able to find his way through to make ends meet / credit: Sanket Jain

Colorful LED-based toys are selling at a higher rate than other items / credit: Sanket Jain

Riyaz Latkar, 32, has been selling artificial jewelry for over a decade now and says he has never seen a crisis like this / credit: Sanket Jain — Riyaz Latkar, 32, has been selling artificial jewelry for over a decade and said he has never seen a crisis like this / credit: Sanket Jain

During these two- to three-day fairs, sellers sleep and cook on the roadside. Kamalaxmi Bahurupi said, “I’ve spent my entire life cooking food on roadsides. I don’t know how long we will live like this.” / credit: Sanket Jain — During these two- to three-day fairs, vendors sleep and cook on the roadside. Kamalaxmi Bahurupi said, “I’ve spent my entire life cooking food on roadsides. I don’t know how long we will live like this.” / credit: Sanket Jain

Artificial jewelry is usually in high demand in the village fairs of Maharashtra. However, with people losing their livelihoods because of the pandemic lockdown, vendors have reported a steep decline in sales / credit: Sanket Jain

In this stall, every item is sold for a fixed rate of Rs 10 (13 cents) / credit: Sanket Jain — In this stall, every item is sold for a fixed rate of Rs 10 (13 U.S. cents) / credit: Sanket Jain

Balu and Gangabai Jadhav were forced to work in ten occupations as the fairs remained banned. “If there’s another lockdown, we’ll all die of starvation,” Balu said / credit: Sanket Jain — Balu and Gangabai Jadhav were forced to work 10 different occupations as the fairs remained banned. “If there’s another lockdown, we’ll all die of starvation,” Balu said / credit: Sanket Jain

As much as 70 percent of rural India lacks an internet connection. With schools shut because of the coronavirus pandemic, several children have been forced to pick this line of work to make ends meet and support their families / credit: Sanket Jain

Horse and bullock cart races remain a major attraction during these fairs. Here, a horse is getting ready for the race / credit: Sanket Jain — Horse and bullock cart races remain a major attraction during these fairs. Here, a horse is getting ready for a race / credit: Sanket Jain

Sanket Jain is an independent journalist based in the Kolhapur district of the western Indian state of Maharashtra. He was a 2019 People’s Archive of Rural India fellow, for which he documented vanishing art forms in the Indian countryside. He has written for Baffler, Progressive Magazine, Counterpunch, Byline Times, The National, Popula, Media Co-op, Indian Express and several other publications.

An Accredited Social Health Activist (ASHA) worker monitoring the temperature of a community member in Maharashtra’s Kolhapur district

How Neoliberal Austerity Stripped India’s Healthcare Infrastructure

Sanket Jain June 2, 2021 Sanket Jain Admin, Admin, Archives, Asia

Narayan Gaikwad talks of the ostracism his family had to face after he tested positive in 2020 — Farmer Narayan Gaikwad and his family faced ostracism after he tested positive for COVID-19 in 2020 / credit: Sanket Jain

Narayan Gaikwad knew something was wrong.

For eight days in August, he was given intravenous drips of electrolytes and saline solution, twice a day. By the time he realized he was being treated by a quack, it was too late. Fatigue had grappled him, and in no time, he collapsed in his house in the village of Jambhali in the western Indian state of Maharashtra.

His family feared COVID-19 had caused his symptoms. They rushed 73-year-old Gaikwad to a makeshift public COVID center—10 miles from home. “There were at least 500 patients, while the facility had some 100 beds,” recalls his son, Bhagat. Next, they traveled another eight miles to a private hospital. “The doctor wouldn’t admit him because he didn’t have a COVID report,” recalls Bhagat.

“The entire system was saturated because many private doctors refused to treat COVID patients,” he says. Speedily, they rushed him to a local village doctor, who prescribed a few injections. “I did come to my senses, but my cough and cold didn’t go away,” remembers Gaikwad. All he wanted was a COVID test, which was hard to come by because the system was overwhelmed and unprepared. After that, he spent ₹5,000 (Indian rupees or $70 USD) and got a computed tomography (CT) scan. “We then rushed to a medical doctor, who prescribed week-long medicines and injections. It cost me another ₹13,000 ($180).” This was 10 days into his trek for proper healthcare and Gaikwad still couldn’t get a COVID test. “I was breathless.” To get tested, his family took him to a private university that had been converted to a COVID center—12 miles away. As anticipated, he tested positive. “I was put on oxygen, and within three days, I started feeling better,” he says with a sigh of relief.

Meanwhile, the nine members of the Gaikwad family tested positive for stigma. “People started circulating that my entire family tested positive,” says Narayan, a low-income farmer. None of them were allowed to step out of the house for a month. “We had to throw away 2,000 kilograms of harvested tomatoes worth $275,” says Bhagat. Gaikwad never anticipated this would cost them a season’s earnings.

After he tested negative, Bhagat posted a screenshot of this report on his WhatsApp status, with the caption ‘Negative’. “It was necessary. Otherwise, we would have died of hunger, as people wouldn’t let us step outside,” says Gaikwad. In India, as in many parts of the world, ordinary people rely on groups created inside the WhatsApp messaging application on their smartphones to communicate with wide swaths of people, like their neighbors, coworkers and political allies.

It didn’t take long for the second wave to devastate India. On May 14, India reported 414,182 infections in 24 hours—the highest single day spike in the world. India’s far-right prime minister, Narendra Modi, prematurely declared a victory against COVID in January 2021. Leaders of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP), of which Modi is a member, started addressing election rallies in four eastern and southern Indian states—drawing several thousand people without masks. At one event, Modi proudly said, “I’ve witnessed such a rally for the first time.”

On the same day, India reported over 234,000 infections. With an oversaturated healthcare system, India ran out of oxygen, hospital beds, ventilators and essential medicines. Soon, people took to social media, making SOS calls for healthcare facilities. Hospitals started petitioning high courts for the lack of oxygen supply as several people died. As of May 30, India reported over 28 million cases with 329,000 people succumbing to the virus. A New York Times analysis reveals a more likely scenario could be 539 million cases with 1.6 million estimated deaths.

But Gaikwad couldn’t find a bed in the first wave.

“For poor people like us, the system collapsed long ago,” he says.

Three Decades of Austerity

In 1991, India “liberalized” its economy, which meant opening it to international markets, leading to a mass-scale privatization of public services and goods. In 1993, the World Bank released its World Development Report, which focused on healthcare. Ravi Duggal, health researcher and activist writes, “This report basically is directed at third-world governments to reorient public health spending for selective health programs for targeted populations wherein it clearly implies that curative care, the bulk of health care, should be left to the private sector.”

The World Bank report said investments in specialized health facilities should be diverted to the private sector by reducing public subsidies. It encouraged “social or private insurance” for clinical services. The result: 85.9 percent of people in rural India have no medical insurance.

To encourage privatization, the government reduced the customs duty on imported medical equipment from 40 percent in the 1980s to 15 percent in the early 2000s. As of 2016, it was down to 7.5 percent. From 1986-87, India spent 1.47 percent of its GDP on healthcare. Now it has been investing a little more than 1 percent of its GDP. Meanwhile, it has 43,487 private hospitals and a mere 25,778 public hospitals. Yet, a 2019 World Health Organization report pointed out average global healthcare spending was 6.6 percent of GDP.

Frontline Health Care Workers Bear the Burden

In March 2020, India’s Health Ministry tasked the Accredited Social Health Activist (ASHA) workers to contain COVID across 600,000 villages. For this, they survey households, find suspected COVID cases, and monitor oxygen levels and body temperature. ASHAs also support COVID patients who are home-bound and act as a liaison to people who are able to get treatment outside the village. This is in addition to over 50 responsibilities that include universal immunization, ensuring proper pre- and post-natal care, spreading awareness about contraception, hygiene, and maintaining health records.

For every 1,000 people, an ASHA worker—normally a woman from within a village—is appointed under India’s National Rural Health Mission. Swati Nandavdekar, 40, from the village of Mendholi in Maharashtra’s Kolhapur district, is one of 970,676 ASHAs. “We are tired,” says Nandavdekar, who has worked without leave for 410 days. “People abuse me verbally and don’t answer my survey questions.”

In avoiding her, people are bypassing the ostracism that follows if they test positive, as in the case of Narayan. “In the previous lockdown, everyone lost their livelihood, and now they can’t afford an isolation of 14 days,” she elaborates. This is in contrast to last year, when ASHAs like Nandavdekar were able to successfully contact-trace COVID patients.

Dr. Sangita Gurav, the only public doctor for 15 villages that Kolhapur’s Bhuye Public Health Centre serves, commented on the rising fatality rate. “People consult us only after a week from testing positive,” she says. “By this time, their symptoms become severe, and oxygen levels start dipping.”

Sandhya Jadhav, an ASHA supervisor from Kolhapur, who oversees the work of 24 ASHAs, says, “Every day I get calls from ASHAs who talk of mental stress and the instances of verbal abuse.” ASHAs receive “performance-based incentive.” In Maharashtra, they average a meager monthly income of ₹3,000-4,000 ($41-55). But it comes down to $25 for ASHA workers like Nandavdekar, who is from a smaller village. “Most of them haven’t received PPE kits, masks, hand sanitizers and gloves for surveying even in the containment zones,” says Jadhav.

On May 24, ASHA workers across India had gone on a 1-day strike demanding legal status of permanent workers, adequate health safety gear, insurance and a hike in their wages. Last year, over 600,000 ASHA workers protested with similar demands.

For 833 million people, India has a mere 155,404 sub-health centers (which are the first point of contact for rural communities of 5,000 people), 5,183 community health centers, 24,918 public health centers and 810 district hospitals. That’s 1 district hospital for every 1 million people. With such a poor infrastructure, it’s the ASHAs who remain in direct contact with the villages. “We have been working since 2009 and have saved countless lives, which even the government knows,” Nandavdekar says. “But they won’t even treat us with respect.”

Last year, the Indian government announced an insurance program of $69,000 (USD) for frontline healthcare workers. “If there was insurance, why weren’t we informed of the company and other details?” Jadhav says. “They took our signature on a blank paper.”

As cases continue to rise, the job of ASHA workers is far from over.

“We are dying daily,” Nandavdekar says. “The only difference is that it’s not called death.”

Crushing Dissent During India’s Lockdown

Rishabh Jain May 26, 2021 Rishabh Jain Admin, Admin, Archives, Asia

“The very thought of him having to plead to jail authorities regarding a basic service like clean water to wash his swelled eye still gives me anxiety attacks,” says Jenny Rowena, wife of Hany Babu.

Babu, a 55-year-old Delhi University professor, is among many political prisoners who have been detained after having been charged under a draconian Indian law, the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act (UAPA). His family released a statement to the press that mentions Babu’s severe eye infection, which could damage his vital organs.

Only after Babu’s family’s repeated appeals did the court allow him to get proper medical treatment and tests at a private hospital, the expenses of which his family will bear.

This is a glimpse into the conditions the Indian state machinery forces people to endure as it goes about filling overcrowded prisons, in violation of basic civil and legal rights, as the pandemic ridden situation further deteriorates. The situation has worsened because of the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP)’s use of a 54-year-old draconian law.

India’s National Investigation Agency (NIA) had arrested Babu in a case referred to as the “Bhima Koregaon case.” Bhima Koregaon is a village in the western Indian state of Maharashtra. The NIA alleged several activists gave incendiary speeches, causing clashes to erupt January 1, 2018, between Dalits and Hindu right-wing groups.

Many other activists and academics, including Anand Teltumbde, Sudha Bhardwaj, Father Stan Swamy, Gautam Navlakha and others—most of whom are 50 or older—were arrested in the same case and continue to languish in jail. They have been denied proper medical treatment, even as they suffer ailments.

For example, Father Stan Swamy, 84, a tribal-rights activist, has Parkinson’s Disease. He told the court during a May 21 hearing that during the past eight months he has been detained, his health condition has worsened.

“When I came here, I could eat, read, take a bath by myself,” Swamy testified. “Now I have to depend on others even to feed me.”

The family of Sudha Bhardwaj, a 60-year-old lawyer-activist, approached the court to access her medical records. She suffers from diabetes, hypertension and several other health issues. Meanwhile, others like writer and activist Anand Teltumbde suffer from asthma.

Yet another political prisoner, G.N. Saibaba, a 53-year-old who was formerly a professor at Delhi University, continues to live in similar conditions. He is 90 percent disabled and also tested positive for COVID-19 in February. His daughter, Manjeera, says although he has recovered, Saibaba is weak. She says despite several letters to jail authorities and the Ministry of Home Affairs, which oversees Indian internal security and domestic affairs, no helper has been provided.

“He is 90% disabled and can’t do work on his own. He needs a helper to do his day-to-day activities. Whether it’s brushing his teeth, getting up from the bed, going to the toilet—he needs help with everything,” Manjeera says. “But there is no helper.”

She also alleges that despite knowing co-morbidities could be life-threatening for a COVID-19 infected patient, he wasn’t provided proper medical care after testing positive. The family had no choice but to hire a courier service to transport life-saving medicines and supplements to him.

A medical facility is attached to every jail. However, Manjeera said they are unprepared to treat inmates.

“The jail hospital—there is no hospital. It’s like a small barrack: A bed and that’s it,” she explained. “There is no one to take care of you.”

Meanwhile, Saibaba, who was arrested in 2014, is serving a life sentence for his alleged links to the banned Communist Party of India (Maoist).

All these political prisoners, lodged in several jails across India, continue to live in devastating conditions as the coronavirus wreaks havoc across the nation.

Deploying a Draconian Law During Lockdown

An important mechanism used by the Indian state to prevent political prisoners from being released is the Unlawful Activities Prevention Act (UAPA). The law—enacted in 1967—reverses “innocent until proven guilty” to “guilty until proven innocent.” The ruling BJP amended the UAPA in July 2019 to designate an individual as a terrorist without trial. Previous versions of the act only allowed groups to be designated as terrorists.

In introducing the amendment, Home Minister Amit Shah said individuals should be charged under the law for taking part in an act of terrorism, for helping prepare for such an act, and for raising money or spreading information to aid terrorism.

Amit Shah, Indian Minister of Home Affairs / Ministry of Home Affairs

“Sir, guns do not give rise to terrorism, the root of terrorism is the propaganda that is done to spread it, the frenzy that is spread,” Shah told the Indian Parliament in 2019. “And if all such individuals are designated as terrorists, I don’t think any member of parliament should have any objection.”

This anti-terror law allows the detention of the accused without charge for up to 180 days.

“UAPA is something that with its amendments is designed to detain people indefinitely,” as prominent social activist and author Harsh Mander points out. “This can be understood from the fact that no charge sheet has been filed in the Bhima Koregaon and Delhi riots case, and yet the people are being detained indefinitely.”

In December 2019, as the Indian government passed the controversial Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA), protests erupted across the nation. However, in the wake of the protests, riots broke out in various parts of northeast Delhi during February 2021, after which several activists—many hailing from the marginalised minority communities—were arrested under the UAPA.

Mander alleges the BJP-led government has used a medical emergency to keep political prisoners inside prison without access to lawyers and proper healthcare facilities.

“Although the amendments in UAPA were made by previous governments, the current ruling party has used it to a greater extent and as a weapon against dissent,” Mander said.

He also asserted courts have failed undertrials (people detained while awaiting trial) and prisoners in safeguarding their rights.

“The courts should have objected and released guidelines regarding the release of undertrials and de-congestion of prisons,” Mander added. “They should have taken a sympathetic and humane view regarding the political prisoners.”

The overcrowding in Indian prisons is not a new phenomenon. Currently, 44 million cases are pending in Indian courts, and that number continues to increase. The slow pace overburdens prisons, as undertrials are kept waiting.

Overcrowded Indian Prisons

In a National Crime Records Bureau (NCRB) report published in 2019, 478,600 prisoners are lodged inside Indian jails, whereas they only have capacity for 403,700 inmates.

That means Indian jails are at 118.5 percent capacity. Also, around 68 percent of detainees are undertrials—not convicted prisoners.

As the coronavirus spread across the country in 2020 and beyond, overcrowded prisons have become a hotbed of infection. On April 28, the High Court of Delhi, while hearing a petition on the release of detainees, asked the concerned authorities to come up with a plan to de-congest jails. On May 7, the Indian Supreme Court also directed states to protect prisoners’ right to life and provide them with proper medical care during this pandemic. It ordered states to release undertrials facing non-serious charges on bail and people convicted of similar charges on parole.

Last year, as the pandemic broke out, close to 42,000 prisoners initially were released. But later, with a dip in the number of cases, many were returned to the prisons on the orders of the Supreme Court.

With the classification of legal services as “unessential,” but the construction of the $2.8 billion (USD) Central Vista Redevelopment Project in New Delhi deemed “essential,” the BJP government’s priority is evident. Yet the lives of political prisoners hang in the balance as they are refused bail, and as they struggle for access to basic amenities and medical care behind prison bars.

Rishabh Jain is a journalist who writes on Indian politics and issues central to India. He is based in New Delhi.

As UN ‘Reviews’ Presence in Afghanistan, Afghans Face More Hunger and Poverty

Peoples Dispatch / Globetrotter News Service May 15, 2023 Peoples Dispatch / Globetrotter News Service Admin, Archives, Asia

This article was produced by Peoples Dispatch/Globetrotter News Service.

As Afghanistan’s economy continues to spiral, as many as 34 million Afghans are living below the poverty line, says a new UN report. The “Afghanistan Socio-Economic Outlook 2023” report released by the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP) on April 18 highlights the impact of cuts in international aid to Afghanistan since the Taliban took power.

The report notes that the number of people below the poverty line in Afghanistan has increased from 19 million in 2020 to 34 million today. It also adds, “Even if the UN aid appeal for international assistance to reach $4.6 billion in 2023 succeeds, it may fall short of what is needed to improve conditions for millions of Afghans.”

The UNDP report comes after the UN said that it was “reviewing its presence” in Afghanistan following the Taliban’s ban on Afghan women from working for the international organization earlier this month. The UN statement suggested that it may be planning to suspend its operations in the country.

The report also notes that Afghanistan is currently facing a severe fiscal crisis after the ending of foreign assistance “that previously accounted for almost 70 percent of the government budget.” A severe banking crisis also continues. In 2022, Afghanistan’s GDP contracted by 3.6 percent. The report adds that the average real per capita income has also declined by 28 percent from the 2020 level.

On May 1, the UN began holding crucial talks regarding Afghanistan in Doha. The participants include the five permanent UN Security Council members, countries in the region such as Pakistan, India, Uzbekistan, and Tajikistan, and key players such as Saudi Arabia and Turkey. Notably, the de facto Taliban government of Afghanistan was not invited to participate. “Any meeting about Afghanistan without the participation of the Afghan government is ineffective and counterproductive,” said Abdul Qahar Balkhi, Taliban foreign ministry spokesman.

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