The Tangled Web of Narratives Fueling Kashmir’s Conflict
I Ahmed Wani
In the snow-capped valleys of Kashmir, where the air once carried the scent of saffron and the echoes of Sufi saints, a storm has raged for decades. The conflict in Jammu and Kashmir is not just a tale of guns and borders; it’s a story woven with threads of ideology, emotion, politics, and carefully crafted narratives. Many believe that ideology alone turns well-educated young men and women into terrorists. But is that the full picture? No, say experts and locals alike. While religious or separatist ideology plays a big role, it’s often the spark, not the fire. Deeper forces like personal grudges, rigged politics, and twisted stories keep the flames burning. In this article, we dive into how these elements sustain the Kashmir conflict, and why creating a fresh, honest narrative is the need of the hour.
Let’s start with the basics. Kashmir’s troubles didn’t begin overnight. The roots go back to 1947, when India and Pakistan partitioned, and Kashmir became a bone of contention. But the modern cycle of violence kicked off in the late 1980s. What triggered it? Not just ideology, but a deep sense of betrayal. Take the 1987 assembly elections in Jammu and Kashmir. Widely seen as rigged, they crushed the hopes of many Kashmiris who wanted change through the ballot box. The Muslim United Front (MUF), a coalition of opposition parties, was poised for a strong showing. But results were manipulated in favor of the National Conference (NC) allied with Congress. Protests erupted, and security forces cracked down hard. Young leaders like Yasin Malik and Syed Salahuddin, who started as poll agents, felt cheated. They picked up guns, not out of pure ideology, but as revenge against a system that denied them democratic rights.
This denial wasn’t a one-off. In the months after the elections, the NC government, led by Farooq Abdullah, faced accusations of police atrocities. Detentions, beatings, and disappearances became common. Delhi, trusting the state government, looked the other way. “We can handle it,” they said. But they couldn’t. The vacuum filled with militants, many backed by Pakistan. Ideology – a mix of Islamist fervor and calls for azadi (freedom) – gave them a banner. But the real push came from anger over stolen votes and crushed dreams. Today, even as India pushes for elections in the region post-Article 370 abrogation in 2019, old wounds fester. Young Kashmiris whisper about how democracy feels like a sham when voices are silenced.
Now, add emotion to the mix. Ideology might recruit, but personal stories seal the deal. Picture a young man from a middle-class family in Srinagar. He’s educated, maybe an engineer or doctor. What turns him? Often, it’s the “victim card.” Families claim a loved one was killed by security forces in an “accidental” encounter. But dig deeper: sometimes, the death was by militants, and the FIR (First Information Report) in the police station lists “unknown gunmen.” Yet, social pressure twists the tale. No one wants the stigma of a “militant” in the family. Society celebrates “martyrdom,” so the blame shifts to “sarkari bandooq bardar” – government gunmen. Outrage spreads, and the youth joins the fight, not for grand ideas, but to avenge a personal loss.
This isn’t rare. In the 1990s, during the first wave of insurgency, such stories multiplied. Militants targeted informers or rivals, but families pinned it on the army to save face. Today, with “freelance” terrorists – lone wolves not tied to big groups – the war industry profits. Arms dealers, smugglers, and even state actors across borders hire these freelancers. They aren’t driven by ideology alone; money and power play in. But the holy grail remains the “holiboli” (innocent) youth, lured by emotional hooks. As one former militant told me in a hushed conversation in Anantnag, “Ideology gives direction, but pain gives the gun.”
Then there’s the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits – a dark chapter often buried under narratives. In 1990, over 200,000 Pandits fled the Valley amid threats and killings. Militants gunned down innocents like telecom engineer Tika Lal Taploo and nurse Sarla Bhat. Homes were looted, temples vandalized. Yet, the political narrative blames Governor Jagmohan, appointed in January 1990. Critics say he orchestrated the exodus to paint Kashmiris as fanatics and justify crackdowns. “It was a conspiracy,” some politicians still claim. But facts tell otherwise: killings started before Jagmohan arrived, and he urged Pandits to stay, even setting up camps. The real culprits were terror groups like JKLF and Hizbul Mujahideen, who saw Pandits as “Indian agents.”
Why does this narrative persist? Because it suits the war machine. Blaming a governor shifts focus from terrorism’s horrors. In high-profile offices, even in Delhi or Srinagar, “sleeper cells” – sympathizers – push these stories. But narratives are deadlier than cells. They poison minds, justify violence, and keep the conflict profitable for arms lobbies and hawkish politicians. As the saying goes, “Truth is the first casualty of war.” In Kashmir, twisted truths keep the war going.
Religion adds fuel to this fire. When scholars glorify “heroes” who are villains to others, it creates a mess. Take history lessons in mosques or madrasas. Mughal emperors like Aurangzeb are hailed as pious rulers, ignoring their brutality towards non-Muslims. In my own childhood, during the 1990 insurgency, schools in Kashmir buzzed with hatred. I was in Class 6, and in morning assembly, I asked about the most talented “drunker” (drinker) among Muslim rulers in India. I meant Babur or someone known for excesses, but students and teachers jumped in: “No, he quit drinking after becoming king!” It was a lie – history books say otherwise – but arguing was risky. The air was toxic; violence seeped into playgrounds.
This denial isn’t harmless. It builds walls. When one community’s hero is another’s oppressor, empathy dies. In Kashmir, sermons paint militants as saviors fighting “Hindu India,” ignoring how they terrorize fellow Muslims too. Sufi traditions of harmony get sidelined. The result? A generation brainwashed, ready for jihad not out of deep faith, but manipulated emotions.
So, how do narratives power the war industry? Simple: they sustain division. Peace would bankrupt arms dealers, spies, and extremists. Pakistan’s ISI thrives on chaos; India’s hawks use it for votes. Global players sell weapons, drones, and tech. Narratives like “Kashmir is oppressed” or “Pakistan sponsors terror” keep the pot boiling. Even media plays along, amplifying sensational stories.
But there’s hope. We have a chance to deliver, modify, and create a new narrative. Start with truth-telling. Acknowledge rigged elections, Pandit exodus horrors, and police excesses without excuses. Promote shared histories: Kashmir’s syncretic past, where Hindus and Muslims coexisted under Dogra kings or Sufi pirs. Education is key – rewrite textbooks to show balanced views, not one-sided glory.
Dialogue matters too. Bring Pandits back with security and jobs. Engage youth through sports, tech hubs, and real democracy. Post-370, tourism booms, but hearts need healing. As Prime Minister Modi said, “Insaniyat, Jamhooriyat, Kashmiriyat” – humanity, democracy, Kashmiri ethos. Make it real.
Yet, the present situation raises tough questions about engaging the youth in politics. If we talk of real democracy, why are urban local body and Panchayat elections being ignored? These grassroots polls are key to pulling young people into the system, giving them a say in local issues like roads, water, and schools. But as of December 2025, they remain delayed.
The last Panchayat elections were in 2018, with terms ending in early 2024, and urban bodies face the same fate.
Why no push from the Centre to the elected government for holding them at the earliest? The Union Ministry of Panchayati Raj has issued advisories to Jammu and Kashmir, flagging the delays and urging action.
Opposition parties like BJP are pressing hard for early polls to strengthen grassroots democracy.
Still, the Omar Abdullah-led National Conference government seems to be beating around the bush. They focus more on restoring statehood, which would give more powers to the local setup.
But Panchayat and local elections are well within their domain as a Union Territory – why the delay? Sources say the government is waiting for full statehood to avoid polls under the current limited powers, where Delhi still holds many reins.
This hold-up is blocking development funds and leaving villages without elected leaders, hurting the very youth we want to empower.
If we truly want to engage the young in politics and heal old wounds, these elections can’t wait any longer.
Religious leaders can lead. Instead of divisive tales, preach unity. Scholars from all faiths should debate openly, admitting flaws in “heroes.” Media must fact-check narratives, not fan flames.
Finally, address root causes: jobs, education, justice. Well-educated youth turn to terror when opportunities dry up. Invest in Kashmir – not just roads, but minds.
In the end, ideology isn’t the only driver; it’s the vehicle for deeper pains. By crafting an alternate narrative – honest, inclusive – we can steer Kashmir towards peace. The Valley deserves it. After all, as an old Kashmiri proverb goes, “Agar dil saaf ho, toh raasta saaf ho jaata hai” – if the heart is clean, the path clears.
