The Prime Minister of Azad Jammu and Kashmir (Pakistan administered J&K) addressing a rally in Rawalakot. Photo/Special Arrangement
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Muzaffarabad Diary: From Cipher to Negotiations

Saga of a so-called foreign hand in Pakistan-administered Jammu and Kashmir has exposed fractures within politics, public opinion, and handling of dissent.

Danish Irshad

On September 16, the current prime minister of Pakistan-administered Jammu and Kashmir, Chaudhry Anwar-ul-Haq, appeared alongside four of his predecessors—Raja Farooq Haider, Sardar Atiq Ahmad Khan, Sardar Muhammad Yaqub Khan, and Sardar Tanveer Ilyas. They held up a paper and claimed India had issued a cipher to spread chaos in the region. The cipher, they said, was addressed to Shaukat Kashmiri, leader of the United Kashmir People’s National Party in Europe.

cipher refers to a purported secret diplomatic or intelligence communication. How these politicians had access to such communication is itself a big question, although they claim that the cipher was leaked on the dark web.

The document they claimed is linked to ongoing protests against economic and political rights, as well as against refugee-allocated assembly seats. It was also seen as connected to the Jammu and Kashmir Joint Awami Action Committee to show that this agitation has foreign backing.

At the press conference, a joint declaration was read out.

It said, “Operation Bunyan al-Marsous” and the “Battle of Truth” had strengthened Kashmir’s freedom struggle and drawn global attention to the issue. All political leaders present reaffirmed their support for the movement across the Line of Control in Jammu and Kashmir and pledged to resist any conspiracy to destabilise Pakistan-administered Kashmir. They also agreed to work together on resolving public grievances and safeguarding state interests.

In the same event, they announced pro-army rallies under the banner of “Pakistan Zindabad” to be held in Rawalakot and Bagh. Alongside the five present and former prime ministers, leaders of four parties—the Muslim Conference, Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz, the Pakistan People’s Party, and the Jammu and Kashmir People’s Party—were in attendance.

The press conference painted the popular protest movement as disruptive and aligned with an Indian agenda. But the public reaction on social media was scathing. Many mocked the cipher document, pointing out technical errors and calling it a conspiracy by the sitting prime minister.

Chaudhry Anwar-ul-Haq later appeared on television to explain that he had not linked the cipher with the Joint Awami Action Committee, insisting the committee itself had assumed the connection. “This only shows they have something to hide,” he argued.

This is not the first time such a “cipher” has been waved in Pakistan. The first instance was in the 1970s when Zulfikar Ali Bhutto claimed US Secretary of State Henry Kissinger threatened to make him a “horrible example” if Pakistan pursued its nuclear program. The second came in April 2022 when Imran Khan held up a letter at an Islamabad rally, alleging Washington was plotting his ouster. Now, Raja Farooq Haider has introduced the third, blaming India for conspiring to sow unrest in Pakistan-administered Kashmir.

The Rawalakot rally that followed the September press conference turned out poorly attended, embarrassing the government. The very next day, Pakistan’s Prime Minister’s Office announced a negotiating committee to talk with the Joint Awami Action Committee. It included federal minister for Kashmir affairs, Amir Muqam and another federal minister, Tariq Fazal Chaudhry.

Talks began on Tuesday, September 24. The committee’s representatives immediately asked about the cipher: “Do you actually believe in it?” The Pakistani ministers replied bluntly: “If we had such evidence, we would not be negotiating with you.”

Talks stretched beyond 12 hours but broke down after the government refused to accept the first two demands in the Action Committee’s charter: ending refugee-allocated seats in the assembly and curbing elite privileges. Federal ministers later said they had accepted 36 out of 38 demands, but the remaining two were “extra-constitutional” and could not be conceded.

The Action Committee itself appeared divided after the talks. Representatives from Poonch took a hard line, unwilling to compromise, while others signaled some flexibility. Separate comments to the media by Shaukat Mir and Umar Nazir reflected this split.

Following the failed talks, the Action Committee kept the door open for dialogue but announced a lockdown on September 29. In anticipation, Islamabad dispatched 2,000 police and federal constabulary personnel into Pakistan-administered Jammu and Kashmir.

The critical question now is whether September 29 will bring violent crackdowns on protests or a return to the negotiating table. The answer will determine not only the fate of the Action Committee’s movement but also Islamabad’s credibility in managing dissent without hiding behind “ciphers.”

The recurring appearance of “foreign letters” in Pakistan’s political theatre reflects a deeper malaise. Each time, the cipher is less about foreign interference and more about domestic insecurity. Bhutto used it to rally nationalist sentiment around nuclear ambitions. Imran Khan brandished it to frame his ouster as an American plot. Today, in Pakistan-administered Kashmir, the cipher appears as a tool to delegitimise grassroots movements demanding economic justice and fair political representation.

But the difference this time is striking. Unlike Islamabad, where cipher claims reshaped governments and galvanised party loyalists, in Kashmir, the narrative fell flat. Citizens mocked it, dissected its flaws online, and saw through it as a clumsy attempt to deflect attention from local grievances.

The Awami Action Committee’s demands—especially on refugee quotas and elite perks—strike at the heart of the political order in Muzaffarabad. Ending these privileges would fundamentally alter how power is distributed in the territory. No wonder Islamabad is hesitant. Yet, suppressing dissent with police and paramilitary units risks inflaming a region already scarred by mistrust.

The coming weeks will show whether the state chooses coercion or compromise. For now, one truth is clear: waving papers may win headlines, but it cannot erase the anger simmering in the bazaars of Rawalakot and the streets of Bagh. The cipher story may fade, but the grievances it tried to bury remain alive—and they will keep resurfacing until addressed.

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