The Taliban’s morality police recently summoned four young men in the city of Herat in western Afghanistan for a “rehabilitation programme”. Their offence: “imitating actors” and “promoting foreign culture”. The young men had formed what they called the “Thomas Shelby Group”, after Cillian Murphy’s character in the popular TV drama Peaky Blinders – and the week before their detention they’d been observed strolling confidently around Herat dressed in black three-piece suits and leather gloves, smoking cigarettes.

The Taliban are well known for actively policing what they refer to as “Afghan cultural and Islamic traditions”. And the morality police’s role is to ensure the “promotion of virtue and prevention of vice”, according to the Sharia, Islam’s legal code – as interpreted by the Taliban.

The Taliban also emphasise their role in preserving the purity and dignity of their conception of Afghan culture. In recent weeks, videos on social media have depicted the morality police in Kabul ordering shopkeepers to remove billboards that include English terms written in Persian. They are apparently seen as enabling the influence of foreign values on Afghan culture.

The detention of these young men for promoting foreign culture is but one instance of the Taliban seeking to enforce a purified form of Afghan culture on people in the country in recent months.

At first glance it may seem surprising to hear, not only of an interest in Peaky Blinders in Afghanistan, but also of young men in one of the country’s most historic cities going to considerable lengths to procure and wear the show’s signature outfits.

But the fact is that despite the Taliban’s best efforts to depict Afghan culture as static and traditional, there has always been a connection and awareness in Afghanistan of what is going on culturally in the rest of the world. Those who think of Afghanistan as backward and isolated culturally are very mistaken.

Much recent scholarship demonstrates that Afghanistan is best understood as a place shaped through historic and ongoing global circulations of people, things and ideas.

Cultural exchange

Far from being tradition-bound tribespeople who take pride in only wearing local clothing, from the days when Silk Road merchants moved goods between Europe and Asia, people in Afghanistan have long incorporated global fashion trends into their own ways of dressing.

In the early 20th century, Afghanistan’s ruler Emir Habibullah Khan, who ruled from 1901 to 1919, introduced a uniform for members of his court based on styles of dress popular in British India.

In the era leading up to the second world war, urban people effortlessly adopted styles they encountered through foreign visitors and residents in the increasingly international city of Kabul. Many who travelled also brought home new trends from across Asia, Europe and America.

Despite the obvious displeasure shown by the country’s religious authorities, in this period the neatly trimmed “French cut” beard became popular among Kabul’s intelligentsia.

John Lennon wore an Afghan coat and a sporran at the press launch for the Beatles’ Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band album, held at Brian Epstein’s house in May 1967. John Downing/Getty Images

This culture and fashion exchange was not a one-way process. Clothes designed in Afghanistan played a significant role in shaping fashion trends in some of the world’s most cosmopolitan cities, including Paris, Los Angeles and London.

For much of the 20th century, the thirst for fur coats in Europe and America was quenched through the import from Afghanistan of Persian lamb pelts from the prized Karakul sheep.

The popularity of Karakul fur expanded in Britain after Nasr Allah Khan, a son of Afghanistan’s Emir Abdur Rahman Khan (who ruled from 1880 to 1901), presented Queen Victoria with a gift of 80 pelts during his 1894 visit to Britain.

Artisans in Afghanistan knew how to turn the pelts of Karakul lambs into a soft and glossy fur-like material. Millions of skins were used to make coats for sale across Europe and North America until as recently as the 1980s. These included the famed “Afghans”, beloved of hippies in Europe and North America in the 1960s.

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• ** Read more: Friday essay: how ‘Afghan’ coats left Kabul for the fashion world and became a hippie must-have ** *

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Popular culture

In this way, culture in Afghanistan has been shaped by the circulation of people, capital, things and ideas – and this is embedded in the country’s social and cultural fabric. Even a movement as assertive as the Taliban will confront obstacles in its attempts to limit this circulation and impose rigid and bounded ideas of Afghan culture on the country’s diverse and globally oriented population.

A good example of how this attempt to control Afghan culture was subverted during the Taliban’s previous period of rule (1996–2001) was the craze for the Hollywood blockbuster, Titanic. Cinema, television and music were banned (as were barber’s shops).

But underground video shops flourished, and Titanic became a popular symbol to show that one was aware of the wider world. Some bakeries in Kabul are reported to have produced cakes decorated to resemble the ill-fated ocean liner for consumption by the city’s globally connected residents on occasions such as birthdays and weddings.

The young men whom the Taliban deemed to be in need of rehabilitation are hardly isolated mavericks. They represent a key facet of culture in Afghanistan – a fluidity born of, and informed by, the country’s historic global connectedness.

This aspect of the country’s cultural dynamics has long interacted in complex ways with attempts to construct, maintain, preserve and purify what the authorities see as “tradition”. The four young men got away with a warning.

Like the Titanic cakes of the 1990s, the Peaky Blinders outfits are a way of making a statement that challenges the Taliban’s understanding of “Afghan culture” without being enough of an offence to land their wearers in serious trouble.