RASC News Agency: So-called Afghanistani war rugs are far more than objects of traditional craftsmanship. They function as living visual archives of more than four decades of war, occupation, displacement, and political upheaval in Afghanistan textiles in which rifles, tanks, helicopters, maps, and political figures have replaced classical floral and geometric motifs.
According to MAP Academy, these carpets known in Persian-Dari as qalin-e jang or jihadi carpets first emerged after the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979. They were largely produced for Western markets, a trade that from its inception has operated with little formal regulation or ethical oversight.
Carpet weaving in Central and South Asia, particularly among nomadic and semi-nomadic communities, has a history stretching back centuries. Women from Baluch, Turkmen, Hazara, and Taimani Afghanistani communities were among the pioneers of this art form. The Soviet–Afghanistani war (1979–1989), however, not only devastated the lives of millions of Afghanistani citizens but also fundamentally altered the trajectory of this ancient craft.
Historical research suggests that the earliest war rugs were woven by Baluch women in northern Afghanistan. As the conflict intensified and millions of Afghanistani people were forced into exile in Pakistan and Iran, informal weaving workshops sprang up inside refugee camps. There, women from different ethnic backgrounds worked side by side, blending distinct regional styles. For the first time, men previously absent from the craft also entered carpet weaving as a means of survival.
Most war rugs are pile-woven wool carpets, densely populated with imagery of light and heavy weaponry, tanks, fighter jets, bombs, and later drones. In early examples, these elements appeared symbolically and abstractly alongside traditional motifs. In later works, however, scenes of warfare dominate the entire visual field, crowding out decorative balance.
Researchers note that many classical motifs were transformed by war:
• the boteh (paisley) began to resemble hand grenades,
• flowers and stars came to signify explosions,
• the traditional Turkmen gul was reinterpreted as tank tracks or tanks themselves.
The introduction of chemical dyes in the 1990s further expanded the chromatic range of these carpets, intensifying their visual impact.
Some war rugs depict maps of Afghanistan, Soviet troop withdrawals, the battle of Tora Bora, or even Iraq after the 2003 invasion. In certain pieces, political figures such as Babrak Karmal and Mohammad Najibullah appear in symbolic compositions, often framed as imposed or proxy rulers.
Following the attacks of September 11, 2001, carpets featuring the Twin Towers and English-language slogans entered the market works many scholars view as tailored to American and Western consumer tastes rather than organic expressions of Afghanistani lived experience.
MAP Academy reports that the rapid commercialization of Afghanistani war rugs from the late 1980s onward profoundly shaped their production. Middlemen and traders imposed standardized designs, and concerns emerged regarding child labor and economic exploitation within the supply chain.
Yet alongside these critiques, more affirmative interpretations persist. Many scholars regard Afghanistani war rugs as a form of resistance art, a visual anti-war protest, or a means of recording collective memory objects that simultaneously narrate trauma, endurance, and creative agency.
Today, Afghanistani war rugs are held in major international collections, including the British Museum, the Textile Museum of Canada, the International Folk Art Museum, and the Penn Museum, and remain the subject of sustained artistic, historical, and political inquiry.
MAP Academy concludes that the future of this craft particularly in light of Afghanistan’s recent political transformations remains uncertain. What is clear, however, is that Afghanistani war rugs endure as one of the most uncompromising visual testimonies of modern warfare, rendered through an ancient artistic language.
