I Ahmad Wani
At a time when Jammu and Kashmir is battling one of the most dangerous social crises in its modern history, political messaging matters. Every public statement, every criticism, and every attempt to dilute the seriousness of the issue carries consequences far beyond television debates and party offices. The issue is not about politics anymore. It is about survival — particularly the survival of a generation increasingly vulnerable to narcotics.
In recent days, two women leaders from the National Conference and the Peoples Democratic Party questioned and criticised Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha’s aggressive anti-drug campaign. In any democracy, criticism of government policy is legitimate and often necessary. Governments must be questioned. Administrations must remain accountable. But there are moments when political criticism risks crossing into moral confusion. This is one such moment.
Jammu and Kashmir today is facing a drug epidemic that has quietly entered villages, towns, colleges, schools and even homes that once believed they were insulated from such destruction. The spread of narcotics is no longer confined to isolated pockets or urban centres. From Kupwara to Kulgam, Baramulla to Banihal, reports of young boys and girls falling prey to addiction have become painfully common. Families are breaking down silently. Parents are selling land and jewellery to fund treatment. Rehabilitation centres are overcrowded. Teachers are witnessing students lose focus and discipline. Doctors are raising alarms. Police officers are repeatedly warning that narcotics have become one of the biggest threats to the social fabric of the region.
In such a climate, an aggressive campaign against drugs is not political theatre. It is an administrative necessity.
The criticism directed at the Lieutenant Governor’s anti-drug initiatives appears deeply misplaced because it ignores the scale of the emergency. One may disagree with the style of governance, the optics of padyatras, or the political symbolism attached to campaigns. But questioning the intent or dismissing the seriousness of the drive against narcotics sends a troubling message to society. At a time when communities require clarity and collective resolve, mixed political messaging only weakens public confidence.
The truth is uncomfortable but unavoidable: for years, the drug menace in Jammu and Kashmir was either underestimated or conveniently ignored. Political parties spoke passionately about roads, electricity, employment and security, but the silent spread of addiction rarely received sustained attention. While leaders traded accusations over constitutional issues and electoral calculations, narcotics networks quietly expanded their reach. Entire neighbourhoods began witnessing increasing substance abuse among teenagers. Yet the response remained fragmented.
Today, when the administration is attempting to place the issue at the centre of public discourse, political leaders should ideally strengthen the movement rather than undermine it.
Critics argue that symbolic campaigns alone cannot solve the problem. That is true. No padyatra, speech or awareness rally can eliminate drugs overnight. But symbolism also matters in public life. Large-scale awareness campaigns create conversations inside homes and schools. They remove stigma around reporting addiction. They encourage parents to seek help. They send signals to law enforcement agencies that the administration considers the issue a priority. Most importantly, they tell young people that society has not abandoned them.
Public campaigns have historically played major roles in changing social behaviour. Whether it was anti-smoking drives, campaigns against dowry, sanitation movements or road safety awareness, visibility has always mattered. The fight against narcotics is no different. To dismiss awareness initiatives as mere “optics” is to misunderstand how social change works.
More importantly, the criticism ignores the fact that the administration’s anti-drug efforts are not limited to speeches or rallies. Over the past few years, law enforcement agencies in Jammu and Kashmir have intensified crackdowns against drug peddlers, seized narcotics worth crores, attached properties linked to trafficking networks and increased surveillance in vulnerable areas. Rehabilitation and counselling facilities have also expanded, though much more still needs to be done. Schools and colleges are being engaged more actively. Community participation is being encouraged. Religious leaders, teachers and civil society groups are being asked to become stakeholders in the campaign.
Can these measures be improved? Certainly. Is the problem still massive? Absolutely. But dismissing the campaign altogether simply because it originates from the Lieutenant Governor’s administration appears more political than principled.
One of the most damaging aspects of contemporary politics is the tendency to oppose initiatives not on merit but on identity. If one political side launches a programme, the other side instinctively attacks it — regardless of whether the issue concerns public welfare. This approach may help create headlines, but it weakens society. Drug addiction is not an issue that should be viewed through partisan lenses. Narcotics do not ask whether a victim belongs to the NC, PDP, BJP or Congress. Addiction destroys families without checking political affiliations.
The larger concern is the kind of signal such criticism sends to young people already standing at the edge of vulnerability. When influential political voices appear dismissive of anti-drug campaigns, even indirectly, it risks normalising cynicism around the issue. Society begins debating the politics of the campaign rather than the urgency of the crisis itself. The focus shifts from saving lives to scoring political points.
This is precisely where silence becomes complicity.
There is also a deeper contradiction in the criticism. Political leaders frequently speak about protecting Kashmir’s youth, empowering the younger generation and securing their future. Yet no future can be protected if addiction continues hollowing out society from within. Unemployment is a challenge. Mental health concerns are rising. Social alienation exists. All of these issues can push vulnerable youth towards substance abuse. That is exactly why political leaders should support every serious intervention aimed at prevention, rehabilitation and awareness — even if they disagree with the administration on other matters.
Supporting an anti-drug campaign does not mean surrendering political ideology. It means recognising a humanitarian emergency.
The unfortunate reality is that Jammu and Kashmir’s drug crisis has already reached alarming levels. Health experts have repeatedly warned about rising opioid dependency. Synthetic drugs are increasingly accessible. Smuggling routes remain active. In several districts, police officers privately admit that the average age of users is decreasing. Schools are no longer untouched spaces. Even rural areas, once considered socially conservative barriers against such trends, are witnessing cases of addiction.
This is not the time for hesitant messaging.
Political maturity requires the ability to separate governance disagreements from social emergencies. A responsible opposition strengthens society by constructively engaging with issues that affect public welfare. If political parties believe the anti-drug campaign lacks certain elements, they should propose stronger rehabilitation policies, demand better healthcare infrastructure, push for employment generation, or recommend more effective monitoring mechanisms. They should expand the conversation — not weaken it.
Unfortunately, modern politics often rewards outrage more than responsibility. Sharp criticism generates attention faster than nuanced cooperation. But leadership is ultimately measured not by the ability to oppose everything, but by the wisdom to recognise which battles transcend politics.
The war against drugs is one such battle.
No administration can fight this crisis alone. Parents must remain vigilant. Schools must become emotionally supportive spaces rather than purely academic institutions. Religious organisations must openly address addiction instead of treating it as social shame. Media houses must continue highlighting the issue consistently instead of covering it episodically. Civil society must stop viewing addiction as someone else’s problem. And politicians — regardless of party — must avoid statements that weaken public consensus against narcotics.
The people of Jammu and Kashmir have suffered enough from violence, uncertainty and social disruption over decades. Allowing drugs to consume another generation would be a collective failure of historic proportions. Future generations will not remember which party criticised whom. They will remember whether society acted when warning signs were visible.
That is why this moment demands responsibility over rhetoric.
Criticism is essential in democracy. But criticism without sensitivity to ground realities can become dangerously disconnected from public suffering. The anti-drug movement in Jammu and Kashmir may not be perfect. No campaign ever is. But undermining it at a time when addiction is rapidly spreading risks sending precisely the wrong message.
The real debate should not be whether one supports or opposes the Lieutenant Governor politically. The real question is far more serious: does Jammu and Kashmir want to confront the drug menace with unity and urgency, or reduce it to another arena for political contest?
Because when society starts politicising even the fight against narcotics, the beneficiaries are never the people.
The beneficiaries are the drug networks watching silently from the shadows.
