When the government of Pakistan, the administration of Pakistan-administered Jammu and Kashmir (PAJK), and the Joint Awami Action Committee (JAAC) reached an agreement on October 4, 2025, the move was hailed as a rare breakthrough after months of street protests, strikes, and tense negotiations.
The pact was meant to calm public anger over inflation, energy costs, and governance failures. Yet, before the agreement could even take effect, the political landscape has already slipped into a state of uncertainty.
The JAAC, an umbrella coalition of civil society groups, traders, and activists, had mobilised thousands across the region earlier in 2025. Their demonstrations—some of which turned violent—demanded accountability and austerity in the local administration.
The October agreement sought to address those concerns. Among its key points were a commitment to reduce the size of the cabinet to a maximum of 20 ministers, barring non-resident members of the Legislative Assembly from holding ministerial positions, and limiting administrative secretaries to the same number.
Instead of implementing these steps, Prime Minister Chaudhry Anwar-ul-Haq’s government began to unravel under the weight of its own political alliances. Rather than issuing de-notification orders, the prime minister asked "non-resident ministers" to resign voluntarily. These ministers are Pakistani citizens and claim seats in the assembly for being refugees from across the Line of Control, originally from the Kashmir Valley and the Jammu region.
Only one, Religious Affairs Minister Muhammad Ahmad Raza Qadri, publicly announced on Facebook that he was leaving his post. It remains unclear whether his resignation ever reached the prime minister’s desk.
Another member of the Legislative Assembly elected on a reserved seat, Muhammad Mazhar Saeed, announced his resignation from the Ministry of Information during a press conference; however, he also clarified that he would continue to sit on the government benches—symbolising the half-hearted dissent within the ruling bloc.
The most vocal challenge, however, came from two non-resident ministers representing refugee constituencies in Pakistan—Finance Minister Abdul Majid Khan and Food Minister Muhammad Akbar Chaudhry. In a charged press conference, they accused the government of denying constitutional rights to refugees from Jammu and Kashmir settled in Pakistan, promoting hate speech, and undermining the unity of the state.
They said a deliberate campaign had been launched to divide “refugees” and “locals,” with social media used to brand refugees as “traitors” and “looters.” This, they argued, was the first-time politics in the state had been reduced to ethnic animosity. Citing examples from France, Italy, Portugal, and Algeria—where citizens abroad enjoy parliamentary representation—they defended the system that gives refugee constituencies seats in PAJK’s assembly.
Qadri’s move set off a chain reaction. Talk of a no-confidence motion and an “in-house change” quickly spread across Muzaffarabad. The government’s two coalition partners—the Pakistan Peoples’ Party (PPP) and Pakistan Muslim League-Nawaz (PML-N)—found themselves at a crossroads. Both parties sent delegations to consult their central leadership in Islamabad.
PPP leaders met separately with Pakistan President Asif Ali Zardari and his sister, Faryal Talpur, who oversees the party’s political affairs. Local PPP ministers claimed they had offered their resignations to the central leadership, leaving it to decide whether to stay in government or withdraw. But they stopped short of sending formal resignations to the prime minister. Zardari and Talpur, aware that a government collapse could create a constitutional vacuum, reportedly instructed them to remain part of the coalition for now.
The PML-N leadership faced a similar dilemma. Several of its local figures criticised Prime Minister Anwar-ul-Haq for poor governance and overreach, but they too avoided making a decisive break. For both parties, the political cost of triggering another crisis outweighed the benefits of distancing themselves from a floundering administration.
Finance Minister Khan, who has served in multiple administrations, accused Prime Minister Anwar-ul-Haq of politicising the bureaucracy, rewarding personal loyalty over merit, and neglecting public welfare. Ironically, Khan has played a central role in nearly every previous in-house change in Muzaffarabad’s turbulent politics. For two and a half years, he was part of this very government, only to now describe it as a victim of “bad governance.”
Apart from these resignations, no other minister has stepped down. But the uncertainty has paralysed governance. The Anwar-ul-Haq administration faces an existential question: can it survive amid eroding alliances and growing public discontent, or will the assembly see another reshuffle engineered from within?
The current crisis has revived debate over the structural imbalances in PAJK’s political system. Under the 13th Amendment to the Azad Jammu and Kashmir Interim Constitution (Act 74) in 2018, the size of the cabinet was capped at 30 per cent of the assembly, limiting it to 16 members in a 53-member house. However, when Chaudhry Anwar-ul-Haq became prime minister in 2023, he secured a new amendment removing that limit altogether—allowing him to expand his cabinet freely to stabilise his fragile majority.
The October 2025 agreement with the JAAC sought to reverse this expansion, restoring the cap to 20 ministers. But implementation has stalled, leaving both the prime minister’s credibility and the JAAC’s leverage in question.
Adding to the tension are fresh police cases against JAAC activists and protesters. In one First Information Report (FIR), authorities named JAAC leader Shaukat Nawaz Mir and 2,500 unidentified individuals for an incident at Neelum Bridge in Muzaffarabad on September 29. Similar FIRs have surfaced in Bagh and other towns, fueling public outrage and further eroding trust between citizens and the administration.
The crackdown on protesters has reignited the very resentment the October deal was meant to ease. Many see it as proof that the government is more interested in consolidating power than addressing legitimate grievances.
Ironically, most clauses in the JAAC-government deal were already aligned with the existing fiscal policy. Many commitments were embedded in the 2025–26 budget—such as increased transparency in development spending and rationalisation of administrative costs—but implementation has been slow.
For now, only the politically sensitive clauses, like cabinet downsizing and exclusion of non-resident ministers, remain unresolved. These are precisely the issues that threaten the power balance in Muzaffarabad. Prime Minister Anwar-ul-Haq’s hesitation reflects not just administrative inertia but also the delicate nature of coalition politics in a region where governments often depend on narrow majorities and fragile loyalties.
Observers note that this crisis is not new. Successive governments in Pakistan-administered Kashmir have been trapped in cycles of expansion and contraction—building oversized cabinets to reward allies, then pledging reform under public pressure. The result is a bloated bureaucracy, mounting fiscal strain, and recurring public unrest.
The JAAC movement emerged as a popular revolt against this pattern. Its demand for fiscal discipline and representation resonated across class and party lines. Yet by co-opting parts of its agenda without real reform, the current government may have unintentionally deepened the disillusionment.
For now, Muzaffarabad remains caught between promises and paralysis. The JAAC leadership insists that if the government fails to act, it will mobilise again. Civil servants, wary of political interference, are in a holding pattern. Coalition allies are calculating their next move. And the public, fatigued by repeated political dramas, watches with growing scepticism.
Whether the October 2025 agreement becomes a roadmap for reform or just another footnote in AJK’s long history of political bargains will depend on what happens next. If the government moves decisively to honour its commitments, it may yet salvage credibility. But if hesitation continues, the Awami Action Committee’s next march may not be as forgiving.
At its core, the crisis in Pakistan-administered Jammu and Kashmir is about more than numbers in a cabinet. It is about trust—between rulers and ruled, between refugees and locals, and between the promises of reform and the realities of power. Until that trust is rebuilt, governance in Muzaffarabad will remain suspended in uncertainty.
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