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