Criminalising Education Under a Colonial Framework

 By Nisar Ahmed Thakur 

Indian occupation authorities have recently banned South Kashmir's premier educational institute, Darul Uloom Jamia Siraj-ul-Uloom, under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA), 1967—a law that has widely been criticised for being used to criminalise political activity, religious practices, and even institutions that have long served underprivileged and marginalized communities.

This move, with far-reaching consequences, raises serious concerns about the authorities’ apparent disregard for a population already struggling to preserve its identity under an increasingly centralised political framework shaped by an RSS-influenced regime that pursues an exclusionary, majoritarian agenda leaving little space for minorities.

It is important to recall that Jamia Siraj-ul-Uloom has been among the Valley’s well-established institutions, shaping the futures of thousands and producing doctors, scholars, and professionals whose contributions to society extend beyond the borders of the J&K state. As an affiliate of the Jammu and Kashmir Board of School Education, the seminary—where Hifz, Fiqh, and Arabic are taught alongside a strong focus on modern education—has operated within a recognised framework since its establishment in the late 1990s. Its abrupt closure, without a clear and transparent process, has forced thousands of students from economically weaker backgrounds to abandon their studies midway, putting their academic futures in immediate jeopardy.

This action is not an isolated development. In recent years, Kashmir has witnessed the closure or takeover of trusts, shrines, and mosques, alongside increasing state intervention in institutions serving economically underprivileged and marginalized communities.

Earlier actions involving the banning of schools and colleges run by the Falah-e-Aam Trust (FAT) point to a growing pattern under which educational institutions have been arbitrarily shut down on one pretext or another. The FAT, which oversaw a large network of educational institutions across Kashmir, was declared an “unlawful association” under the UAPA in 2022, on allegations of links with Jamaat-e-Islami.

As of April 2026, a total of 273 institutions linked to the trust have reportedly come under government control, including 215 in 2025 and a further 58 this year. While these are official figures, some observers argue that the actual scale could be higher due to concerns over the reporting and classification of institutions. In any case, the numbers indicate a sustained pattern that is difficult to overlook.

Over the years, the Kashmir region is increasingly being reshaped into a system resembling serfdom, where externally appointed authorities—acting in a manner reminiscent of colonial viceroys—exert influence not only over governance but also over the intellectual and cultural direction of society. Decisions about what Kashmiri students should learn, which institutions they should attend, which curriculum they should follow, and what language they should speak are increasingly being dictated by administrators from outside the region rather than by those elected by its own people.

This is a classic textbook example of colonial education, which seeks to regulate, assimilate, and ultimately control the indigenous population through the imposition of a foreign curriculum, language, and cultural framework. As far as the colonisation of education in Kashmir is concerned, its roots could be traced back to the 1980s, when the NCERT-based system was introduced, under which the status of Islamiyat (Islamic Studies) within the national curriculum began to change.

The move significantly contributed to the restructuring of the education system in the region. Under the JKBOSE framework, Islamic Studies held a more prominent position in many institutions across the Valley, often as a compulsory or semi-compulsory subject. However, with the adoption of the NCERT-based system, Islamiyat was reduced to an optional or elective subject rather than a mandatory component of the curriculum.

This transition is viewed by many observers as part of a broader reorientation of the education system aimed at reducing the role of Islamic identity in Kashmiri society. Against this backdrop, FAT-run schools and seminaries such as Siraj-ul-Uloom have played a crucial role in safeguarding the region’s Muslim identity.

The closure of such institutions is no longer an administrative matter. The issue is that the BJP government increasingly views developments in Kashmir through a security lens, treating anything associated with Muslims—whether institutions, history, or language—as a problem.

While International law recognises the right to religious education within broader protections of freedom of religion and the right to education, the Indian authorities’ selective targeting of educational institutions amounts to a brazen infringement of Kashmiris’ religious rights and an egregious assault on their right to education.

The Covenant on ESCR protects the freedom to manifest religion in teaching and practice and affirm parents’ rights to ensure religious and moral education for their children. Similarly, the Convention on the Rights of the Child upholds respect for a child’s religious identity and cultural values in education. Even instruments such as the UDHR and related covenants affirm the right of communities to educate their children in accordance with their beliefs.

So the problem does not lie in the institutions, but in a system that views Kashmiris with suspicion and portrays their distinct political, cultural, and religious identity as a threat to the Indian state.

Tail piece: The use of a counter-terror framework to justify actions against educational facilities risks blurring the line between security concerns and the fundamental right to education. India must ensure that educational institutions in Kashmir are not criminalised under sweeping security laws, and that legitimate spaces of learning are not treated as extensions of security threats. Safeguarding education requires restraint, transparency, and adherence to constitutional and international commitments, rather than their erosion through broad and indiscriminate application of UAPA provisions.

Writer is Director media communications at Kashmir Institute of International Relations (KIIR) and can be reached: nissarthakur@gmail.com

When Invoking History Becomes a Crime

 

 By Nisar Ahmed Thakur 

"When the telling of history and the expression of political beliefs are treated as threats, the danger extends beyond individuals to society itself."

The Indian judiciary’s controversial decision to sentence Asiya Andrabi and her two close associates to life imprisonment under the widely debated Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act has sparked intense debate across political and legal circles. Known as the ‘Iron Lady of Kashmir’, Ms. Andrabi was sentenced to life imprisonment by a special court of the National Investigation Agency (NIA) under the UAPA and Sections 120B and 121A of the Indian Penal Code. Her associates, Sofi Fehmeeda and Nahida Nasreen, were each sentenced to 30 years, marking the first time Kashmiri women faced such harsh penalties for ‘waging war against the State [sic]'.

What sets Andrabi’s case apart from other Kashmiris previously handed life sentences is the nature of the charges. For the first time, the court appears to have imposed such a severe penalty primarily on the basis of social media posts and public speeches, raising serious questions about freedom of expression and the thresholds of criminal liability.

To many, the ruling came as a shock. But for Kashmir-watchers, who closely monitor developments since the revocation of Article 370, it reflects an unfolding reality—where laws such as the UAPA are no longer exceptional tools, but central instruments shaping the post-2019 governance framework of intensified control over the majority population.

While Indian courts have previously sentenced numerous Kashmiri leaders on alleged terrorism charges involving “killing of civilians”, however, this is the first case in which life imprisonment has been imposed solely for speeches and social media posts. It underscores the deepening crisis in the region, where a significant portion of the population aligns with the political ideology championed by the Dukhtaran-e-Millat chairperson. However, it remains to be seen how this judgment will affect those who have been involved in this kind of social activism for years.

‎Anyhow, the ruling has set forth a chilling precedent, punishing individuals not for acts of violence, but for the words they spoke and the history they invoked. Beneath the veneer of legalese, a more unsettling question emerges: can the mere act of invoking history itself be criminalized? Could a social media post reflecting one’s political beliefs—or even chanting a slogan at a public gathering—trigger repercussions of unimaginable magnitude? It is, in effect, a judicial coup against Kashmiri voices that have refused to accept Indian diktats and its claims over the Kashmir dispute.

Kashmir has long been recognized as a disputed region, its origins tied to the turbulent events of the 1947 partition of the subcontinent. For decades, it has often been described—politically and historically—as an “unfinished agenda” of the partition. This is not merely rhetoric; it is rooted in international agreements, including multiple United Nations resolutions that acknowledged the contested nature of the region and called for its final settlement in line with the wishes and aspirations of the Kashmiri people.

One may agree or disagree with these interpretations. One may reject them entirely. But can their mere articulation be equated with terrorism?

It is also important to situate the case within the ideological position of Dukhtaran-e-Millat, the organization with which Andrabi has long been heading. The group has historically advocated for a political resolution of the Kashmir dispute, framing its stance in alignment with United Nations Security Council (UNSC) resolutions. While its position is often viewed through a particular geopolitical lens, it exists within a broader spectrum of political opinion in the region

Kashmir is a multilingual, multicultural, and multi-religious region, where people hold diverse political beliefs: some support accession to Pakistan, others advocate full integration with India, and still others envision an independent Kashmir. In any democratic framework, individuals must have the right to hold and peacefully advocate for these ideologies without fear of criminalization.

Notably, one of the principal charges against Ms. Andrabi and her colleagues is that they promoted a pro-Pakistan ideology and advocated for accession to Pakistan. This raises critical questions about the veracity of the judgment.

If certain ideological positions—such as open support for Hindutva ideology or the call for Kashmir’s full integration with India—can be freely expressed, why are other ideological frameworks treated as inherently criminal? If expressing loyalty to India is deemed acceptable for a Kashmiri Pandit or a Hindu, why does a Muslim face criminal charges for invoking the Two-Nation Theory? This selective policing exposes a fundamental imbalance in the notion of political freedom.

The two-nation theory forms the ideological and historical basis for the partition of the subcontinent. Whether one agrees with it or not, it remains part of the region’s political and historical discourse. In a territory widely regarded as disputed, where the question of its future status has long been debated, can adherence to one historical or political viewpoint alone justify being labeled anti-national?

If the people of the region are, in principle, meant to determine their political future—as suggested in multiple UNSC resolutions—then the space to articulate differing visions must remain open for all, regardless of their political ideologies.

In its judgment, the court concluded that the accused were not simply expressing a political view but were actively promoting secessionism. Video evidence presented by the National Investigation Agency (NIA) was cited to show that they claimed Kashmir belonged to Pakistan and was under Indian occupation. Yet, this is precisely where the line between speech and crime begins to blur.

If a political issue has, for decades, been debated at international forums, documented in historical records, and discussed across generations, how does invoking that same issue transform an individual into an “anti-national” or a threat to the State? When does a contested narrative—however uncomfortable—cross the threshold into criminality?

These questions are not about endorsing or rejecting anyone’s position on Kashmir. They are about safeguarding the space in which such positions can be expressed freely.

Sadly, in Kashmir, the UAPA serves less to prevent danger and more to regulate and control political expression. Its real danger lies not just in punishment but in how it repeatedly crushes Kashmiri voices and stifles freedom of expression. Ms. Andrabi’s case is a litmus test of whether the world’s so-called largest democracy can reconcile its democratic ideals with the use of law to control thought, erase historical narratives, and suppress dissent in a contested territory—awaiting final settlement under the UN resolutions.

The writer is Director media communications Kashmir Institute of International Relation and can be reached @ nissarthakur@gmail.com

 

 

Erosion of Kashmiri Voices from State Hierarchy

 

By Nisar Ahmed Thakur 

In Indian occupied territory of Jammu and Kashmir, gradual erosion of Kashmiri voices from the state hierarchy is perhaps the biggest challenge the region’s majority population is facing today. They are not just politically sidelined — they are systematically being pushed out of the institutions that once gave them a say in their own governance.

Biased recruitment practices, reservation recalibrations that skew opportunities away from Valley candidates, and the deliberate invocation of regional and communal narratives by those in the corridors of power have steadily hollowed out the space for ethnic Kashmiris. This is no longer a debate confined to politics; it is a structural reality that shapes everyday life and opportunity.

The 2024 Assembly elections were projected as an important milestone to restore normalcy and rule of law after years of direct central rule. But what is unfolding under that veneer tells a different story — one of exclusionary politics that is steadily erasing Kashmiri voices from the institutions meant to serve them.

Behind the façade of electoral legitimacy lies a calculated interplay of biased recruitment policies, skewed reservation frameworks, and the deliberate use of regionalism and communal narratives by those in power, determined to hollow out the space for ethnic Kashmiris. A cursory look at recent recruitments makes it clear how governance is being reshaped into a hierarchy that no longer reflects the people it is meant to serve.

Consider recruitment data. In the 2022 JKPSI (Sub-Inspector) process conducted after the 2019 reorganisation, roughly 79% of the selected candidates came from Jammu, while Kashmir accounted for only about 17%. Reserved category allocations such as SC and ALC/IB went almost entirely to Jammu. Subsequent police constable recruitments (2025–2026) followed the same pattern, with the Valley claiming barely 15–20% of posts, despite being home to over half (nearly 60%) of the UT’s population. Judicial recruitment, too, has shown similar imbalances.

Similarly, around 11.8 lakh reservation certificates have been issued across multiple categories. A large proportion of these certificates have been issued in the Jammu division compared to the Kashmir division.

Under the Scheduled Tribe (ST) category, Jammu accounts for 92.5% of the certificates while Kashmir receives only 7.4%. A similar pattern is visible in the Scheduled Caste (SC) category, where 98.76% of certificates have been issued in Jammu and merely 1.24% in the Kashmir Valley. In the Actual Line of Control (ALC) category, Jammu holds 93.6% compared to 6.4% for Kashmir, while in the International Border (IB) category the entire 100% share belongs to Jammu with none issued in Kashmir. The Other Backward Classes (OBC) category also shows a noticeable tilt, with 59.8% certificates issued in Jammu and 40.2% in Kashmir.

These figures go beyond statistics — they reveal a deliberate pattern, one that gradually pushes ethnic Kashmiris out of institutions that should reflect their community. Such recalibrations in the reservation framework have intensified concerns among the majority population in the region that they are being deliberately pushed to the margins. By the way they have reason to believe so, as in just a couple of years the RBA quota allocated to the Valley has fallen from 20 percent to 10 percent, while other categories — largely benefiting Jammu — have either been retained or expanded.

Far from being a reform, it represents a form of structural exclusion that steadily narrows opportunities for local youth.

On the other hand, policies of this nature, have the potential to significantly reshape the region’s administrative, cultural, linguistic and political landscape. As recruitment patterns increasingly tilt away from the Valley, the composition of the bureaucracy is bound to change, gradually reducing the representation of locals within key institutions.

A look at the Valley’s administrative structure reveals a striking pattern: many key positions are occupied by non-Kashmiri bureaucrats drawn from other Indian states. The Lieutenant Governor (LG) of Jammu and Kashmir, for instance, is a non-Kashmiri, and several senior posts in the police hierarchy — including the Director General of Police (DGP) and the heads of agencies such as the State Investigation Agency (SIA) — are held by officials who are not from the region.

Over time, this shift may also alter the linguistic and cultural character of governance in the Valley, where Kashmiri, the predominant local language risks being pushed to the margins as administrative spaces become less reflective of the region’s social and linguistic realities.

Political leaders across Kashmir have consistently warned that the existing reservation framework erodes merit and sidelines the ethnic Kashmiri community.

Unfortunately, the present day government, which capitalised on Kashmiri sentiment in the previous elections, has failed to protect the fundamental interests of the Kashmiri people. It appears totally paralyzed and unable to respond to the real concerns of the people, who are steadily being pushed to the periphery of their own land.

When it comes to restoring the region’s statehood or defending its territorial integrity they once called non-negotiable, the NC has once again disappointed those who entrusted them with power.

Kashmir today stands divided not only along political lines, but this divide has also permeated administrative processes at every level. Bureaucratic postings, resource allocation, and routine decisions are all filtered through a communal lens. Officers are no longer judged by their competence, but by their religion or region of origin.

At the top tier of governance, these fault lines are even more visible. In so-called Legislative Assembly elected representatives frequently appear to champion community interests rather than the broader interests of the state. Assembly debates are increasingly dominated by voices that champion regional and communal interests, often at the expense of the state’s broader welfare.

In January 2026, a senior Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) leader and MLA made headlines by calling for a separate state for Jammu and casting doubts on the loyalty of residents in the Kashmir Valley.

The discourse that fosters communal divisions also underscores the RSS–BJP’s ideological focus on Hindu nationalism, using stereotyping as a political strategy that intensifies mistrust rather than encouraging reconciliation.

Once priding itself on a shared, composite identity, Jammu and Kashmir today faces stark polarization, with fault lines running through its political, administrative, and psychological landscape.

The writer is Director media and communications Kashmir Institute of International Relations (KIIR) and can be reached at : nissarthukar@gmail.com

Balancing Populations in Kashmir: Is Another Gaza in the Making?

 

By Nisar Ahmed Thakur 

‎‎The recent remarks of Ashwani Kumar Chrungoo have once again ignited a sensitive debate over the Indian government’s settler colonial policies aimed at changing the demographic complexion of the Kashmir Valley—a region with over 98% Muslim population.

In an interview to The Telegraph, Kolkata Mr. Chrungoo, a BJP leader who has served as an office bearer of a group representing a section of Kashmiri Pandits who left the Valley in the early 1990s during the tenure of then Governor Jagmohan, lifted the lid off the BJP’s game plan on Kashmir, which, at prima facie, contains all the elements with the potential to turn the region into another Gaza.

While much of his interview covered issues long discussed in the public domain, the most explosive revelation came when he suggested that the Indian state is actively seeking to “balance” the Valley’s population by settling lakhs of Hindus from outside, confirming fears widely held among the Muslim population since the constitutional changes of 2019.

Chrungoo argued that efforts to address this so-called “demographic challenge” are not confined to Kashmir but extend to other parts of India where Muslims are, or risk becoming, a majority. ‎He cited Bengal, where BJP leaders have spoken openly about “Bangladeshi and Rohingya infiltrators”, Assam, and the Sambhal district of Uttar Pradesh, where numerous mosques, mazars, and madrasas have been demolished.

‎‎“So far as Kashmir is concerned, I believe the Indian State is thinking of addressing its demographic balancing, its demographic challenge; I say that people are thinking on these lines… People are working on it”, he told The Telegraph.

Among the proposals he referenced is the creation of a Union Territory covering half of Kashmir to settle Pandits—a plan fraught with catastrophic implications for the region that has been home to multiple religions and ethnicities, with a centuries-old tradition of interfaith harmony and coexistence. The purported plan may fit well with the BJP’s broader scheme of things or massage the ego of certain self-proclaimed leaders of the Kashmiri Pandits; however, creating ghettos or dividing the region along communal lines would be tantamount to erecting another Berlin Wall, separating communities that have lived side by side and coexisted harmoniously despite their diverse faiths and religions.

Pertinently, Panun Kashmir, an organization representing Kashmiri Pandits, has been calling for a separate homeland in the Kashmir Valley, even though Pandits make up less than 4 percent of the total population. The demand has faced serious criticism from multiple quarters, with opponents arguing that it is not only impracticable but also tantamount to dividing the Valley on communal lines. The 1981 census found the Hindu population in the Valley at less than four per cent, and by 2011, following their self-displacement in 1989–90, it had declined to just under three per cent. Thus, the idea of carving out a separate Union Territory from the Valley for this particular community is a disastrous recipe, likely to create social disorder, deepen rifts between communities, and further complicate the Kashmir issue—a region that has already witnessed extensive bloodshed and violence due to India’s refusal to address the problem and respect the political aspirations of the majority community.

‎Taken together, these discussions reveal a grand design aimed at curtailing the political agency of the Kashmiri Muslims by manipulating the region’s demographics. Since 2019, political, legal, and constitutional changes introduced by the Indian government have significantly transformed the Valley’s political environment.

In this context, phrases like “balancing the population” are interpreted as signals that the majority community is being viewed less as citizens and more as a demographic problem.

‎‎Balancing the population would mean settling millions of Hindus — non-state subjects — in the Valley, where the Hindu-to-Muslim ratio stood at roughly 2:98 in 1991. Any such move would be deeply destabilizing for the majority community, which has experienced relative disempowerment in nearly every sphere of life in recent years. The social and psychological impact of such a policy could be profound, further eroding trust and exacerbating existing tensions.

‎‎The BJP appears to be repeating a strategy in the Valley reminiscent of what occurred in the Jammu region in 1947, when large-scale violence led to the killing of hundreds of thousands of Muslims and forced nearly half a million to migrate to Pakistan. The difference now, as Chrungoo aptly noted, is the plan to import large numbers of Hindus from mainland India for settlement. Such a move risks inflaming historical grievances and could further polarize an already fragile social landscape.

‎‎It is essential to recall here that Kashmiris, across political divides, have consistently maintained that Kashmiri Pandits are an inseparable part of the Valley’s social fabric. Apart from the pro-Indian political leadership, the leaders of the All Parties Hurriyat Conference, including Mirwaiz Umar Farooq and the late Syed Ali Shah Geelani, repeatedly emphasized that Pandits must return with dignity and honour. Their opposition was not to the return itself, but to segregated townships or enclaves, which they said would institutionalize separation and divide the region along communal lines rather than restore shared spaces.

‎‎The Panun Kashmir organization, meanwhile, has long been controversial even within the Pandit community. While it strongly welcomed the 2019 abrogation of Jammu and Kashmir’s special status, many Kashmiri Pandits have publicly challenged its approach, arguing that some leaders have pursued political gains at the expense of the community’s genuine interests. Critics and independent observers contend that advocating separate enclaves risks entrenching divisions rather than fostering coexistence.

‎‎So far, no one from the BJP has clarified or contextualized Chrungoo’s remarks. Yet his assertions such as “balancing the population of the Valley” carry unmistakable settler-colonial undertones. In a region already scarred by decades of conflict, such language risks deepening mistrust and tension, raising fears that Kashmir could be pushed toward a prolonged, high-stakes situation similar to contested territories like Palestine.

The tragedy of the Kashmiri Pandits’ displacement in the 1990s remains a profound wound. Yet it is equally unfortunate that few speak of the tens of thousands of Kashmiris forced to flee the Valley since 1990, or the millions who migrated to Azad Kashmir and other parts of Pakistan during 1947, 1965, and 1971. These communities also have an equal right to return to their native places and live a dignified life. Their return, safe, dignified, and voluntary, is both a moral and social imperative. However, this cannot be achieved by creating anxiety among the majority community or by framing justice purely in demographic terms.

Sadly, when political discourse reduces a community to numbers, it risks turning legitimate policy debates into a zero-sum struggle over identity and belonging.

‎‎ History bears testimony to the fact that policies aimed at “correcting” demographics or “balancing” populations have, always, contributed to social unrest and conflict.

In Kashmir, where decades of belligerent Indian occupation have torn the very social fabric of Kashmiri society, such rhetoric risks widening existing divides rather than fostering reconciliation. At its core, the conversation about Kashmir’s future cannot and should not revolve around balancing population ratios. It must focus on restoring trust between communities, rebuilding social cohesion, and addressing the region’s historical problems in their proper context. Above all, healing from the past requires empathy, respect, and dialogue—not policies that appear to pit one community against another.

Kashmir’s beauty lies in its diversity. It has been a mosaic of communities living side by side for generations, enjoying complete harmony. These communities can collectively envision a future, provided they are allowed to determine it through a free, fair, and impartial plebiscite, as recommended by United Nations Security Council (UNSC) resolutions.  

Settling communities in separate enclaves or invoking demographic rhetoric may offer short-term solutions, but any such venture, devoid of substance, cannot provide a durable framework for reconciliation, shared civic life, and, above all, lasting peace and stability.