The recent agitation in Pakistan-administered Jammu and Kashmir (PaJK) led by the Joint Awami Action Committee (JAAC) has drawn both attention and misunderstanding. Among the many demands raised during the protest, one stood out for its controversy — the call to abolish the seats reserved for refugees who migrated to Pakistan from the Kashmir Valley and Jammu after 1947. That demand, whether made in frustration or earnest, has created the impression that the movement was anti-Kashmiri.
For observers across the Line of Control, especially in Srinagar, this sounded unsettlingly familiar. Some even compared it to the Praja Parishad agitation in Jammu in the 1950s or the Ladakh Buddhist Association’s campaign of the early 1990s — both movements seen as pushbacks against the Kashmir Valley’s political dominance.
These comparisons, however, overlook the context and intent of the PaJK protests. Unlike those past movements, the current agitation was not about identity or autonomy. It was a struggle against poor governance, rising living costs, and unfulfilled promises.
The agitation began over rising electricity tariffs, food prices, and growing economic hardship. It quickly gathered momentum across Mirpur, Kotli, Poonch, and Muzaffarabad, uniting traders, teachers, and transporters under the JAAC’s umbrella. These were not political elites but ordinary citizens angry about an unresponsive administration.
Years of neglect have deepened frustration. Despite being called “Azad,” PaJK’s administrative and financial autonomy has remained limited. Key decisions, especially on power generation and revenue, are often dictated from Islamabad. Locals argue that the region produces cheap hydroelectric power yet pays higher tariffs than neighbouring Pakistani provinces. This economic injustice — not ethnic animosity — drove people to the streets.
At the heart of the controversy are 12 seats in the PaJK Legislative Assembly reserved for refugees from Jammu and Kashmir, who settled in Pakistan. These seats, enshrined in the Interim Constitution, were meant to symbolise PaJK’s claim as the provisional government representing the entire undivided state of Jammu and Kashmir that existed in October 1947.
For decades, these seats have been more symbolic than functional, as most refugees live outside PaJK’s territory. Yet they preserve the constitutional fiction that PaJK speaks for all Kashmiris. The JAAC’s call to scrap them was meant, according to several movement leaders, as a protest against misrepresentation — not against Kashmiris themselves. They argue that the system allows outsiders to influence local politics without facing the region’s hardships. Still, the timing and phrasing of the demand fed into wider fears of regional fragmentation.
Many friends in Srinagar, with whom I could interact, had seen the agitation differently. They feared that abolishing refugee seats could symbolically sever PaJK’s link with the broader state of Jammu and Kashmir. For them, those 12 seats are not about electoral arithmetic but about emotional and political continuity.
The Valley has long been the symbolic core of Kashmiri identity — its language, culture, politics and 5000-year-old written history have defined “Kashmiriyat.” Movements in other regions that seem to distance themselves from this identity are often read as betrayals.
Some local sources and discussion forums suggest a linguistic composition in PaJK of roughly Pahari 68%, Gojri 19%, Kashmiri 5%, and others 8%, though no official census confirms this. By contrast, in IaJK, Kashmiri speakers form an overwhelming majority 52.9%, followed by Dogri 20.5%, Gojri 9.25%, and Pahari 7.98% communities. This contrast underscores that ethnic or linguistic tensions involving Kashmiri-speaking populations are largely absent in PaJK, where the linguistic mosaic has evolved into a shared cultural identity rather than a source of division.
The JAAC’s rhetoric, especially on social media, amplified this suspicion. Many accused the group of echoing the separatist tone of the Praja Parishad or the communal undertones of the early 90s Ladakh agitation.
Such analogies, however, miss the point. The PaJK movement has not demanded integration with Pakistan or rejection of Kashmiri identity. Its slogans and charters revolve around governance, taxation, and fairness — not ethnic separation. To interpret it otherwise is to misread a domestic protest through the prism of old divisions.
When Sardar Muhammad Ibrahim Khan and his colleagues formed the PaJK government in October 1947, their intent was not to create a mini-province of Pakistan, but rather to establish a temporary administration representing all of Jammu and Kashmir until the final disposition of the entire state. The reserved seats were a reminder of that unfinished project.
Over time, however, PaJK’s politics evolved into a hybrid system — autonomous in name but dependent in practice. Its leadership has often juggled dual expectations: catering to Islamabad for funds while asserting symbolic independence to satisfy local sentiment. This duality has bred contradictions. Ordinary citizens, facing economic strain, now question why their daily lives should remain hostage to a political structure frozen in 1947.
The JAAC’s call on refugee seats may be understood within that frustration — as a demand for local accountability, not as a declaration of ethnic rivalry.
Electricity tariffs, flour shortages, and tax hikes are not abstract issues. They directly affect households already burdened by unemployment and inflation. When protesters blocked roads and shuttered shops earlier this year, their anger was aimed at the government’s inefficiency and Islamabad’s indifference.
Yet, because of the refugee seat controversy, those economic grievances were overshadowed by political misinterpretation. The media spotlight shifted from rising bills and governance failures to alleged “anti-Kashmiri” sentiment — a framing that neither reflected the movement’s goals nor its grassroots composition.
JAAC’s leadership now faces a delicate task. It must reaffirm that its struggle is for better governance and social justice, not against any ethnic or regional group. That requires clear messaging and coordination with Kashmiri voices. Silence or ambiguity only deepens mistrust.
Equally, observers in Srinagar must resist the temptation to see every administrative demand in PaJK through the lens of identity politics. If PaJK is to function as the symbolic “base camp” of the wider Kashmiri movement, it must also have the space to debate and reform its internal systems without being accused of betrayal.
Kashmiri diaspora activism has added another layer of complexity. Protests in London, Brussels, and Toronto — often directed at Pakistani embassies — have drawn attention to governance failures in PaJK. While these actions sought to express legitimate frustration, they ended up being perceived in some quarters as if PaJK’s struggle were turning against Pakistan rather than advocating for Kashmir as a whole.
For many in Srinagar and within the wider Kashmiri diaspora, this shift in optics is troubling. It signals that Azad Kashmir’s discourse is increasingly focused on administrative grievances rather than the unresolved political question of Jammu and Kashmir. If the rhetoric hardens and positions remain unyielding, the movement—while not anti-Kashmiri—risks being perceived as detached from Kashmir’s larger cause.
Such optics matter. Diaspora voices have long been the international face of the Kashmiri struggle. If their messaging shifts from unity to internal grievances, it can weaken the broader cause that binds PaJK and IaJK together.
There is a need for JAAC’s movement to clarify its agenda. If its demands are economic — about fair electricity pricing, transparent governance, and budget autonomy — they should be presented as such. If the refugee seats issue remains on the table, its proponents need to explain that the intent is reform, not exclusion.
Ultimately, the movement’s legitimacy will depend on whether it strengthens or fractures Kashmiri unity. Administrative reform and Kashmiri solidarity need not be mutually exclusive. PaJK’s people have every right to demand accountability, but their struggle must be framed within the shared history and aspirations that unite all parts of Jammu and Kashmir.
The agitation in PaJK is not another Praja Parishad or Ladakh Buddhist Association moment. It is a citizens’ movement against misgovernance, framed unfortunately in language that lent itself to misunderstanding. To preserve both its moral and political credibility, the leadership must speak with clarity and empathy — reminding all sides that demanding justice at home does not mean denying identity abroad.
(The writer is a PhD scholar in International Relations from Pakistan-administered Kashmir. She can be reached on X (Twitter): @NylaKayani.)
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