Pahalgam exposes India's Kashmir contradiction

The recent terrorist attack in Pahalgam, which claimed the lives of Hindu tourists, all male, was tragic and reprehensible by every standard of human decency. No justification can be given for such bloodshed. However, equally troubling has been the immediate and uninhibited reaction across India, particularly targeting the Muslim population of Indian-occupied Kashmir, without any credible investigation or fact-based reporting.

Instead of appealing for calm or ensuring a neutral inquiry, India's politicians and media began placing blame on Kashmiris and accusing Pakistan of orchestrating the attack.

On social media, Hindus openly called for boycotts of Kashmiri goods and tourism to the Valley in an attempt to bring economic deprivation to the Muslim population in Kashmir. The vitriol was disturbingly collective in tone — punishing an entire community based on nothing more than religious identity.

This episode has yet again unmasked the Hindutva-driven contradiction at the heart of the Indian state: a nation that claims Kashmir is its "integral part" but treats its Muslim majority population as outsiders at best and enemies at worst. The events following Pahalgam have laid bare this duplicity.

The Modi government's longstanding narrative - that peace has returned to Kashmir post the revocation of Article 370 - now stands dismantled by its own people's behaviour. If indeed Kashmiris have embraced India, why does Indian public discourse continue to paint them as complicit in terrorism every time violence occurs?

The two-nation theory, once deemed an ideological relic of Partition, has found unintended vindication under the Modi regime. General Asim Munir, Pakistan's Army Chief, recently stated that Muslims and Hindus are two nations with distinct identities, histories, and visions for society. While India often dismisses this theory as divisive, the policies and postures of its ruling elite make the argument more convincing than ever before.

Under Modi's leadership, India has taken a civilisational turn, not a democratic one. From laws that marginalise Muslims, such as the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA) and National Register of Citizens (NRC), to consistent crackdowns in Kashmir, the Indian state today bears more resemblance to an exclusivist Hindu project than a secular federation.

It is critical to understand that communalism is not just a domestic fault line in India — it is a strategic posture, increasingly used to shape New Delhi's foreign and security policy. The Pahalgam attack is now being used as justification for a new and dangerous form of coercion: weaponising water.

Since 1960, the Indus Waters Treaty (IWT) has overseen the distribution of the six Indus Basin rivers between India and Pakistan. Brokered by the World Bank, the treaty is a rare example of sustained bilateral cooperation — even during wars. However, post-Pahalgam, Indian voices, including former diplomats and ministers, have renewed calls to reconsider or suspend the treaty, suggesting that water deprivation be used as a retaliatory tool against Pakistan.

Such aggressive calls are in violation of international law. The IWT is not a political agreement; it is a binding legal instrument under international customary law. Unilateral withdrawal or manipulation of river flows — especially the western rivers (Jhelum, Chenab and Indus) allocated to Pakistan — would constitute an act of environmental and economic warfare.

While much analysis focuses on Pakistan-India dynamics, one cannot ignore the Chinese dimension of water politics. China controls the headwaters of several Himalayan rivers and has significant interests in hydrological stability in South Asia.

India's repeated threats to tamper with river flows are not lost on China. With existing tensions in Ladakh, and India's increasing military presence in Arunachal Pradesh, China has every reason to monitor Indian behaviour on water-sharing. While it remains diplomatically quiet, any dramatic shift in river politics could provoke a response — not just in political terms but also through counter-infrastructure on its own upstream projects.

Despite India's aggressive posturing no major world power, neither the United States nor the UK, or any European Union state, has endorsed India's call for retaliation. This diplomatic isolation speaks volumes. While India touts itself as a rising global power, its inability to marshal international consensus on such issues exposes the limits of its influence — particularly when domestic communalism and repression are on display.

Another telling sign of India's authoritarian drift is its digital censorship. In the wake of Pahalgam, Pakistani media outlets, diplomatic channels and analysts have been systematically blocked on Indian digital platforms. Whether it was statements by Pakistan's Foreign Office or counter-narratives from Kashmiri voices, Indian regulators have ensured only one narrative was amplified — that of a vengeful state.

This raises uncomfortable questions about India's democratic credentials. Is democracy not defined by pluralism, dissent and the freedom of information? Is it not the mark of civilised discourse to allow opposing voices, especially in times of crisis? Instead, Modi's India appears to be fashioning itself as a digital autocracy — one where truth is filtered, dissent is criminalised, and even geography is manipulated to suit majoritarian myths.

Perhaps the most damning contradiction lies in India's simultaneous claim over Azad Kashmir and its intent to starve that region of water. If, as India insists, the region is its own territory, then why punish its people through water deprivation and economic warfare? This is not just hypocritical, but morally bankrupt.

Modi's India cannot claim Kashmir as its own and then treat its inhabitants as enemies. It cannot claim to be a democracy while silencing opposing views and weaponising natural resources. And it certainly cannot aspire to global leadership while abandoning the principles of cooperation, legality and humanitarianism.

The world must take note — not just of the violence of one incident, but of the broader violence embedded in India's strategic thinking today.