By: Khwaja Kabir Ahmed
A review of the history of the movement in Jammu and Kashmir over the past 78 years reveals a recurring reality: this history has consistently been viewed through the prism of specific political, religious, and organizational interests, as well as the national interests of certain powers. Each party centered the movement’s history on events that suited its own agenda, crafted arguments to bolster its stance, highlighted the transgressions of the opposing side, and glossed over the errors, silences, and compromises within its own ranks. Consequently, an entire generation grew up reading and hearing a version of this history that offered little room for questioning and relied heavily on pre-determined answers.
However, circumstances are changing. The new generation holds a mobile phone alongside a book; while state, political, religious, and organizational narratives exist on one hand, global newspapers, human rights reports, historical documents, and diverse political perspectives are accessible at the mere touch of a finger on the other. They are asking: if the history of the Jammu and Kashmir movement was as straightforward as portrayed, why do such diverse events, conflicting narratives, and varied questions exist? If the fault lay solely with the opposing side, why did the region’s own political history become marred by such bitterness, failures, and tragedies?
This question is not new; it has persisted for decades. Following the 1987 elections, political unrest in Indian-administered Jammu and Kashmir took a new turn, and armed resistance intensified after 1988. Numerous studies have identified flaws in the electoral process and political mistrust as key factors contributing to this crisis. Subsequently, various international reports emerged regarding the support, training, and cross-border infiltration of armed groups from Pakistan. Declassified US government documents also mention specific Kashmiri armed groups based in Pakistan, their training infrastructure, and their activities in Jammu and Kashmir.
However, the other side of this history of the movement is equally significant—and perhaps even more harrowing. The massive military and administrative force employed by the Indian state in response to armed resistance resulted in ordinary Kashmiri civilians bearing the brunt of severe human rights violations. Human Rights Watch documented widespread arrests, house raids, torture, firing on civilians, extrajudicial killings, and enforced disappearances during the events of the early 1990s. Amnesty International also reported numerous incidents of arrests, torture, custodial deaths, and disappearances during the same period.
The situation deteriorated further following Jagmohan’s return as Governor in January 1990. The firing on protesters at Gaw Kadal in Srinagar on January 21, 1990, stands out as a pivotal event in the modern history of the movement in Jammu and Kashmir—one that severely eroded trust between the state and the people. According to Human Rights Watch, at least 35 people were killed, though other estimates placed the death toll significantly higher.
The cycle of violence did not stop there; incidents involving civilian casualties were subsequently reported in Sopore, Bijbehara, and other locations. Regarding the Sopore incident of January 6, 1993, Amnesty International reported the deaths of at least 53 people and stated that security force personnel had taken action against the civilian population following an attack—actions that included allegations of arson involving homes and shops.
A highly sensitive and tragic chapter in this history involves allegations of sexual violence against women. On February 23, 1991, allegations emerged regarding the gang rape of dozens of women during an Indian Army search operation in Kunan Poshpora; the reported number of victims varied across different accounts. Amnesty International called for a reinvestigation of these allegations and, as recently as 2013, emphasized the need for an independent inquiry into the matter.
Similarly, regarding alleged sexual violence and abuse against women in Shopian, Amnesty International reported in 1993 that while Indian authorities dismissed the allegations, the organization expressed concern over the absence of an independent and impartial investigation.
(The standard protocol dictates that allegations remain merely allegations until their definitive legal status is established through an independent and credible judicial or investigative process. However, it is also a matter of principle that such allegations should not be dismissed simply because they challenge a state, an army, or a political narrative. The accusation that a woman’s body is being used as an instrument of war, terror, humiliation, or revenge cannot be considered a trivial matter for any society.)
This same principle must also apply to armed groups. Incidents involving the killing and abduction of civilians, threats, the targeting of political opponents, and violence against minority populations by armed organizations in Jammu and Kashmir are also documented in human rights records. Human Rights Watch has explicitly highlighted the killings, abductions, and other violations committed by armed groups against civilians and alleged informers.
The fundamental issue here is whether the wrongdoing of one party legitimizes the wrongdoing of the other. Can the killing of civilians by armed groups be justified as a response to the abuse of state power by India? Conversely, can every exercise of state power be deemed legitimate simply by citing the excesses of armed groups? A serious discourse on politics and human rights must answer “no” to both questions.
Unfortunately, this double standard frequently appears in the history of the movement in Jammu and Kashmir. One side labels its own casualties as martyrs while dismissing the other side’s casualties as “suspicious”; arrests on one side are decried as oppression, while on the other, they are termed a necessity; a gun on one side represents resistance, while on the other, it signifies defense. Consequently, the history of the movement ceases to be a true reflection of reality and instead becomes a tool for political expediency.
Over the past few decades, religious sentiments have also become a significant part of this politics. The Muslim-majority identity of Jammu and Kashmir has at times been so inextricably linked to political demands that even dissent was framed as a matter of religious loyalty. Religion is a matter of faith and spiritual life; however, when it is harnessed for political or military objectives, one must ask: who benefited from this, and who paid the price?
The ordinary people of Jammu and Kashmir have paid the price for this politics in various ways. Some lost sons, brothers, or husbands; homes were destroyed and businesses ruined; people endured imprisonment, displacement, and lives lived under the constant shadow of fear. Thus, the history of the movement in Jammu and Kashmir is not merely a chronicle of maps, resolutions, speeches, and slogans; it is also a history of the ordinary person’s suffering, fear, and hope. Another fact that cannot be overlooked is that, over the past several decades, countless individuals associated with various political, nationalist, and resistance platforms have sacrificed their lives for the dream of complete freedom and sovereignty for the State of Jammu and Kashmir. Regardless of differences regarding their political methods, organizational affiliations, or ideological preferences, the sacrifice of anyone who laid down their life—driven by a belief in a specific vision for their homeland’s political future—must be viewed as a significant human chapter in the history of the movement.
From Aurangzeb—a close associate of Maqbool Bhat—to Maqbool Bhat himself, and all those across various eras who sacrificed their most precious asset—their lives—for the vision of the State’s complete freedom and sovereignty, these sacrifices are an integral part of the movement’s history. These individuals did not enter the arena for material gain, office, or personal interest; rather, they stood firm on their political convictions and a vision for their homeland’s future, ultimately laying down their lives.
In any human struggle, offering one’s life represents the ultimate act of sacrifice. While the history of the movement and future generations will certainly pass judgment on these individuals’ political ideologies and the methods they adopted, the reality of their sacrifice, their sincerity, and the loss of their lives cannot be ignored.
For this reason, their names and sacrifices will remain an enduring part of the political and historical narrative of the Jammu and Kashmir movement; their ultimate place in that history will be determined by the research, consciousness, and collective memory of future generations. It is essential to pay tribute to the political leaders and organizations that played a role in the movement for the freedom of the State of Jammu and Kashmir during their respective eras—honoring their political struggles, sacrifices, and contributions. However, alongside this tribute, the current leadership must also ask itself: can the traditional political methods of past decades remain equally effective in today’s world?
Across the globe, political movements are charting their courses based on new approaches, modern strategies, research, data, media channels, diplomatic ties, and scientific foundations. Therefore, it is imperative for the current leadership to openly acknowledge its errors and shortcomings, pave the way for the new generation, and provide them with the opportunity to move forward—utilizing their capabilities, knowledge, and creative thinking—in alignment with the demands of the times, modern tools, and the evolving nature of political struggle worldwide.
Every generation has its own era, and perhaps the time has come to grant the new generation the freedom to shape the politics of the future while still honoring the past. After all, while the past struggle—the impact of which remains evident today—was practically focused solely on liberation from India, the new generation demands freedom for the entire State of Jammu and Kashmir. Thus, the same principle that applies to Indian-administered Jammu and Kashmir should also apply to the Jammu and Kashmir administered by Pakistan; why should the latter be considered an exception?
This is precisely where the new generation and contemporary events command attention. In recent years, public demands within Pakistan-administered Jammu and Kashmir have taken on a new political dimension. Protests emerged under the banner of the Jammu & Kashmir Joint Public Action Committee, addressing issues such as electricity, flour supplies, government privileges, representation, resources, administrative authority, accountability, and other public concerns. The 38-point charter of demands prompted a broad segment of society—particularly the youth—to question where the true locus of state resources and political power lies, and what share actually reaches the ordinary citizen.
Recent periods of protest have witnessed “shut-down” strikes, transport blockades, long marches, sit-ins, and massive public gatherings. Diverse political and state perspectives regarding this movement have emerged; some quarters have hailed it as a struggle for public rights, while state authorities and certain political circles have raised serious objections regarding specific tactics employed and the roles played by certain leaders.
The situation has been further complicated by the ongoing public rights movement—active since May 2023—particularly due to rifts between the government and the Jammu & Kashmir Joint Public Action Committee, significant loss of life (with the toll reaching nearly 120 precious lives so far), arrests, and incidents of violence. A recent fact-finding mission by the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan (HRCP) also emphasized the need for immediate and comprehensive political dialogue, highlighting issues such as institutional mistrust, restrictions on communication and freedom of expression, the state’s response, and conflicting accounts regarding protest methods.
Amnesty International has expressed concern over the crackdown, restrictions on the right to peaceful assembly, and the overall human rights situation amidst the ongoing public movement in Pakistan-administered Jammu & Kashmir. Similarly, the UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights (OHCHR) has previously documented concerns regarding human rights, freedom of expression, and freedom of assembly in the region in its reports.
It would be incorrect to view this situation solely through the lens of a single political party or organization. Not every protest is inherently sacrosanct, yet labeling every protest as an act of hostility against the state is not the solution to the problem. The fundamental questions should be: what are the demands? What is the mode of protest? To what extent are citizens’ rights being respected? How strictly are state institutions adhering to the rule of law and the principle of proportionality? And to what extent is the political leadership pursuing the path of dialogue?
Similar questions have frequently arisen in Gilgit-Baltistan. Over the past few years, the Gilgit-Baltistan Awami Action Committee has organized protests regarding the price of wheat, electricity, taxation, land rights, local resources, representation, and other public grievances. In 2024, following prolonged protests and sit-ins, negotiations took place between the government and the protesters concerning wheat subsidies, taxes, and other demands.
In 2026, the arrest of Awami Action Committee leaders in Gilgit-Baltistan once again raised questions regarding political freedom, the right to peaceful assembly, and the right to dissent. The Human Rights Commission of Pakistan expressed concern over the arrests of several Action Committee leaders in March 2026, and the legal community also staged protests.
All these events point to a larger question: can public politics in the two regions of the Pakistan-administered state of Jammu and Kashmir remain confined merely to electoral politics? Or must issues such as public demands, resource distribution, political representation, administrative authority, human rights, and accountability become part of the central political discourse? Perhaps no single party, organization, or state institution holds the answer to this question.
The most significant lesson of the past 78 years is, perhaps, that the gun has not resolved the Jammu and Kashmir issue. Armed actions have neither granted the people of Jammu and Kashmir full political authority nor ended the division or established lasting peace. Conversely, the use of state power has also failed to resolve issues surrounding political dissent, human rights, and public trust. In fact, the use of force complicated the issue rather than resolving it.
Therefore, as the new generation studies the history of the movement in Jammu and Kashmir, it is not enough to simply tell them who the enemy was. They must also be informed about the errors made within the ranks of Jammu and Kashmir itself: where political decisions failed, where religion was exploited for political ends, where the gun was viewed as a substitute for political struggle, and where ordinary Kashmiris were allowed to be used as pawns in the clash of vast geopolitical, state, and power interests.
Similarly, a crucial question arises: when voices are raised against human rights violations in Indian-administered Jammu and Kashmir, should the same principles not apply to Pakistan-administered Jammu and Kashmir and Gilgit-Baltistan? If freedom of expression, assembly, protest, and political dissent are fundamental human rights, why should their value fluctuate based on geography, state boundaries, or political affiliations? And if demands for transparent investigations, justice, and accountability are made of the Indian state, should the same standards not be accepted for the territories administered by Pakistan?
This is precisely where the role of the observer becomes vital. Their task is not to champion the cause of one specific party, but to keep the inquiry alive. They must not alter the standards of justice based on a victim’s religion, political affiliation, or geographical location. They must question the misuse of state power just as they question the killing of civilians by armed groups. They must demand accountability from the government as well as from political organizations that claim to represent the people.
They must also be vigilant to ensure that public sentiment is not being steered once again down a path that could lead to the destruction of yet another generation. Jammu and Kashmir now requires a serious political and intellectual dialogue rather than mere slogans—a dialogue in which “freedom” signifies more than just a geographical shift, encompassing the right to think, question, dissent, and express opinions regarding one’s political future. It calls for a political vision wherein the people are not merely participants used to swell the numbers at rallies, but citizens who wield genuine authority over their resources, institutions, and political destiny.
The role of the younger generation is of extraordinary importance here. Instead of being used for the political agendas of any state, party, organization, or external power, they must study the history of these movements themselves. They need to consult various sources—examining official narratives, understanding opposing viewpoints, and reviewing human rights documents—before forming their own opinions. A young person who asks questions is not an enemy of a movement; rather, they represent the fundamental asset of future politics.
Yet, perhaps the most difficult task in this entire process is not holding others accountable, but holding oneself accountable. One must ask: where was the truth concealed over the past 78 years? Where was the history of movements distorted to suit political expediency? Where was religion weaponized for politics? Where was the gun viewed as a substitute for political struggle? Where was silence maintained in the face of the abuse of state power? Where were the excesses of armed groups overlooked? Where was dissent equated with treason? And where were decisions made in the name of the people—decisions for which the people themselves paid the price?
These questions are not directed at any single party; they are for everyone.
In fact, the question is not merely about who said or did what over the past 78 years; the real question is what has been learned from this long history of movements. Will we continue to read only those pages of history that support a specific stance, remaining trapped within the confines of various political, religious, and partisan biases? Or can we summon the moral courage to acknowledge the errors, the silences, and the compromises made for political expediency? A reckoning with the history of the movement remains pending for all those who lost their lives in this long struggle—those whose homes were devastated, whose loved ones went missing, who endured imprisonment and torture, or who were forced into exile. If nations do not acknowledge the mistakes of their past, future generations repeat those same errors under new names and slogans.
If it is not possible to answer every question posed by the families of the martyrs, it is at least possible to speak the truth to one’s own conscience. For the history of a movement is not judged solely by today’s political slogans; future generations also ask questions, and individuals must answer for their actions before their own consciences.
Therefore, the real need today is not to construct yet another narrative favoring a specific individual, party, organization, or external power; rather, the need is for a political mindset that regards truth, justice, human rights, democratic mandate, peaceful political struggle, and public accountability as fundamental principles. We need a politics that does not turn a blind eye to past mistakes, does not use one party’s crimes to justify another’s, does not equate dissent with treason, and offers the new generation knowledge, awareness, reason, and a political path instead of guns, hatred, and a distorted history of the movement.
Thus, the politics of Jammu and Kashmir must break free from the burden of its past and look toward the future. Concealing the history of the movement does not alter it; suppressing the truth does not extinguish it; and averting one’s gaze from the past does not heal its wounds.
Change does not always begin by scrutinizing others; sometimes, it is essential to look within oneself. And perhaps, that is precisely what Jammu and Kashmir needs most today.
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