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Commentary: An advocate’s perspective on the Afghan evacuation’s bruising aftermath

In the wake of a traumatic three years, the human rights advocate Shannon Galpin reflects on her experience.

Bike maintenance workshop in Bamyan with first women-founded team, Team Shamama. July 2015. Photo: Steve Bouey

Afghans marked a sombre anniversary on August 15: three years since the Taliban walked into Kabul and the international community walked away. Over the years since, the governance of international cycling has become unexpectedly tied to this event, following an evacuation of 125 Afghans spearheaded by the UCI and Israel Premier Tech owner Sylvan Adams on October 11, 2021.

This evacuation of “mostly cyclists” was declared a humanitarian victory – but the plane’s occupants were soon thrust into the centre of a fierce debate as Afghan cyclists and human rights advocate Shannon Galpin questioned the final manifest. Under the guidance of Afghan Cycling Federation president Fazli Ahmed Fazli, many of the cyclists initially put forward for consideration had seemingly been eliminated from the list.

Ever since, fierce debate and denials from the UCI and Fazli have raged, with Galpin at the eye of the storm. Galpin – the first woman to mountain-bike in Afghanistan – has deep knowledge of the cycling community in the country, having trained, supported, and helped develop the original Afghan National Team, and supported the first women-led cycling team in Bamyan province. She was also aware first-hand of the possibility of corruption and abuse in the country’s cycling institutions, having raised these issues with the UCI in 2015-2016. 

After the recent announcement that Fazli had been suspended as president of the Federation – following allegations of verbal abuse, torture, and death threats – Galpin has come forward to share her story. 


The UCI’s failure to protect Afghan cyclists, particularly after the Taliban takeover, has been heartbreaking to witness. As someone who has dedicated over a decade to empowering Afghan women through cycling, seeing the UCI prioritise its own image over the safety and wellbeing of these athletes is deeply disheartening.

My work in Afghanistan, starting in 2008, allowed me to see firsthand the transformative power of cycling as a tool for mobility, justice, and societal change. I trained with, supported, and rode alongside these incredible women, witnessing their strength and resilience as they challenged gender barriers and embraced the freedom cycling offered. But when the Taliban retook Kabul in 2021, I knew these athletes – especially the women – were in grave danger. On August 15 I began the work of evacuation alongside dozens if not hundreds of others digitally connected around the world. 

Immediately, I reached out to Fazli Ahmed Fazli, then-president of the Afghan Cycling Federation, seeking an updated list of registered cyclists to begin evacuation efforts. What he provided was a grossly inadequate list, dismissing many deserving athletes – particularly those outside the national team – as “not real cyclists”. This callous disregard for their safety was just the beginning of the UCI turning a blind eye to misconduct within the Afghan Cycling Federation.

Despite my efforts to provide a comprehensive list of cyclists, the UCI, along with Sylvan Adams, celebrated their evacuation of 125 Afghans, “mostly cyclists.” This “humanitarian victory” rang hollow for me given that there were no more than a dozen cyclists on that evacuation. UCI support was the best chance to get the cyclists out, and both Sylvan Adams and UCI president David Lappartient had said on a phone call that they were committed to evacuating the cyclists. Yet, after that flight, the UCI was done with evacuations. It didn’t matter to them that almost all of the cyclists were still in Afghanistan. They had their PR victory.

Shannon organizing the first training camp with the Afghan National Women’ Team in Bamyan, June 2014. Photo: Deni Bechard

Facing the UCI’s inaction, it was up to me to evacuate the remaining cyclists. I fundraised tirelessly, arranged safe houses, and navigated dangerous escape routes across land borders, all while the UCI and Adams publicly took credit for these later evacuations they had nothing to do with. 

Fazli, instead of supporting his athletes, actively hindered evacuation efforts. He denied cyclists’ identities, threatened those who spoke out, and demanded that all fundraising go through him, putting countless lives at risk in the process. 

Despite being informed of Fazli’s actions, the UCI chose to protect its image. They gave him an award at the 2021 UCI Congress, ignoring the mountain of publicly available evidence I provided against him. This pattern of protecting abusers wasn’t new. Years earlier, I had brought evidence of corruption and misconduct by the former Cycling Federation President to the UCI, only to be met with silence. It felt to me that the UCI was more concerned with its own reputation than the safety of the athletes.

With the help of lawyers at Hogan Lovells, I filed an ethics complaint against Fazli. The process was gruelling: gathering and translating evidence, navigating a system designed to protect abusers, and facing insensitive communication from the Ethics Commission that showed little regard for the safety and well-being of the cyclists involved.

After an excruciating two-and-a-half-year wait, Fazli was found guilty by the UCI Ethics Commission. His punishment? A paltry 15-month suspension. To add insult to injury, the decision was communicated without any warning to the cyclists, some of whom were still in hiding, fearing for their lives. Fazli, despite the verdict, remains a powerful figure, continuing to exert control over the federation and further harming the cyclists who dared to speak out against him.

In an abuse case that involved written death threats, it is outrageous that there were no attempts to contact cyclists to warn them a decision was being made or to explain the decision. Two cyclists that testified are back in Afghanistan after not getting resettlement options; they fear for their own safety. The absence of harm-reduction, and lack of awareness of threats to the lives and mental health of cyclists, is alarming.

Training ride with Afghan National Women’s Team. (L-R: Shannon, Nazifa Hassani, Masomah Alizada, Zahra Alizada) June 2014. Photo: Deni Bechard

The UCI’s actions, or lack thereof, have had devastating consequences for Afghan cyclists. Many remain unable to compete in their new home countries, their future as cyclists undermined by the very organisation meant to protect them. The emotional toll on these athletes is immeasurable. They were forced to flee their homes, betrayed by those in power, and left to pick up the pieces of their lives while the UCI continues to celebrate hollow victories and prioritise its image over justice.

It’s also had a fierce toll on me. For years, I’ve been fielding pleas for help from the Afghan cycling community that was left behind. I’ve fundraised on social media, begged for help, fought homelessness, and been brought to the brink of death suffering a mini-stroke and multiple seizures following months upon months of stress, gaslighting, and violent messages from men in positions of power in cycling – all while maintaining a consistent flow of funds wired to Pakistan and Afghanistan to keep desperate Afghan cyclists fed, housed, and crossing borders. 

The UCI’s failings expose a deeply flawed system that values profit and reputation over the wellbeing of athletes. It’s a system that allows abuse to thrive, silencing those who speak out and leaving vulnerable athletes at the mercy of those entrusted with their care.

So, how do we reclaim the freedom and the spirit of cycling that these women risked their lives to find? Justice won’t come from UCI. It will come from the cycling community – those of us that give a shit. It always has and it always will. Bikes are a literal tool for social justice – they have changed communities since their invention. This is what we need to remember when we look at what the bicycle has brought to the cyclists of Afghanistan, and what will hopefully be able to continue to do so. 

After filming training ride for Afghan Cycles in May 2013. (L-R: Masomah Alizada, Nazifa Hassani, Shannon, Sadaf, Marjan Sediqe). Photo: Sarah Menzies

We need to get these Afghan cyclists – and especially the marginalised women – back on bikes across the 10 countries they are scattered into. We need to give them the support they need to ride, recognizing that it isn’t easy to ride as a refugee; work, language, school, and housing are all difficult, and several have attempted suicide. The cycling industry abandoned the Afghan cycling community  – both women and men – during the evacuation, despite my pleas for support to help get them out, and for support to keep them safe while we waited for their resettlement visas. Silence. Now, I’m begging for support to help get Afghan women back on bikes and connect them to each other. Help me do the work I once did in Afghanistan with these women in the countries where they are. Afghan cyclists deserve to ride.

The fight for Afghan cyclists is far from over – and it’s not just Afghans who suffer. It’s a fight against a system designed to protect abusers, a system that the UCI perpetuates. It’s a reminder that real change requires dismantling these power structures and holding those in power accountable.

Shannon Galpin is a human rights activist, author, artist, and filmmaker. She is currently writing Race from Kabul, archiving the decade of the Afghan women’s cycling revolution. Her first memoir Mountain to Mountain is about her work and experiences mountain biking across Afghanistan. She produced Afghan Cycles, about the first generation of Afghan cyclists, and supported the right-to-ride movement in Afghanistan from 2012-2017. She evacuated over 150 Afghan cyclists and family members and assisted on hundreds more evacuation logistics. She is a Fellow of the Royal Geographical Society. Find out more about Shannon at her website.

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