By GL Raina
Kashmir’s prolonged social and political stagnation cannot be understood solely through the lens of conflict, security concerns, or economic indicators. These factors matter, but they do not explain why stagnation has persisted even during phases of relative stability. At the heart of Kashmir’s deeper crisis lies a more uncomfortable truth: the sustained normalisation of double standards in public life. This is not an episodic failure or a reaction to isolated events; it is a historically entrenched pattern in which principles are applied selectively, outrage is strategically deployed, and silence becomes a shield whenever accountability threatens entrenched interests.
This phenomenon is neither unique nor accidental. Empirical research on conflict-affected societies—particularly studies by the Institute of Peace and Conflict Studies (IPCS) and scholars of political radicalisation—identifies selective moral framing as a major driver of social fragmentation. When ethical standards shift depending on who is involved rather than what is done, institutions weaken and social trust erodes. Kashmir fits this model with unsettling precision. Public reactions are rarely anchored in constitutional values, legality, or universal human rights; they are determined instead by identity, convenience, and narrative utility.
A recent example illustrates this contradiction vividly. The intimidation and online harassment of a transgender artist for a New Year’s Eve performance in Pahalgam was justified under the vague invocation of “local sensitivity.” The event was lawful, non-violent, and procedurally approved. No statute was violated, no legal remedy was sought. Moral authority was simply assumed by a vocal minority, enforced through social pressure rather than institutional process. Yet, when comparable claims of cultural sensitivity are raised elsewhere in India, many of the same social voices denounce them as evidence of systemic oppression. This asymmetry is not cultural; it is political.
History shows that this is not an aberration. Since 1947, Kashmir has repeatedly witnessed social coercion overriding institutional norms. The forced disbandment of Pragaash, the all-girls band, in 2013 remains a telling example. There was no legal prohibition on their music. What silenced them was organised intimidation, amplified by clerical statements and online mobilisation. Over decades, similar pressure tactics have targeted writers, academics, journalists, and professionals. The cumulative result has been what sociologists term self-censorship induced by social threat—a condition where individuals suppress expression not due to law, but due to fear.
The selective invocation of “merit” and “local sentiment” further exposes this inconsistency. Kashmir’s own institutional history contradicts this sudden moral enthusiasm. Courts have repeatedly acknowledged that merit was sidelined in favour of other considerations in state decision-making. The landmark Supreme Court judgment in Triloki Nath Tiku & Anr. vs State of Jammu & Kashmir (1966) is particularly instructive. The Court noted that promotions were being granted preferentially to specific religious and caste groups. While the State defended this as a corrective measure to address social imbalance, the Court rejected the argument due to the absence of empirical data establishing backwardness or under-representation. The present-day weaponisation of “merit,” selectively deployed to oppose inconvenient outcomes, therefore rings hollow.
The consequences of this moral inconsistency are measurable. Media freedom indices and internal migration studies reveal a sustained and disproportionate outflow of professionals from Kashmir—doctors, educators, artists, entrepreneurs—far exceeding comparable conflict regions. Security concerns alone do not explain this exodus. A deeper cause lies in a social environment hostile to independent thought and deviation from dominant norms. No society can retain talent when conformity is rewarded and originality is punished.
Perhaps the starkest example of selective morality is visible in the public response to the drug menace that has engulfed Jammu and Kashmir. Unlike cultural performances or artistic expression, narcotics trafficking rarely triggers sustained outrage. In some cases, notorious drug dealers enjoy social respect, and their release on bail is celebrated as a communal victory. More disturbingly, close relatives of individuals accused of drug trafficking have even been elected to offices of profit. The silence here is not moral restraint; it is moral selectivity.
What is often described as “popular sentiment” is, in reality, the dominance of a determined minority exercising moral intimidation. Political theorists have long warned that such environments produce preference falsification—a condition in which individuals publicly conform while privately dissent. The appearance of consensus masks internal decay. Institutions hollow out, creativity retreats, and mediocrity becomes normalised.
The long-term costs are severe and cumulative: weakened civil institutions, cultural regression, economic underperformance, and chronic dependency on external support. A society cannot modernise while suppressing dissent, nor can culture be preserved through fear. Stability imposed by intimidation is neither stability nor culture; it is stagnation.
Kashmir’s fundamental challenge, therefore, is not excessive sensitivity but selective sensitivity. A society that demands rights without reciprocity, tolerance without consistency, and freedom without responsibility ultimately forfeits moral credibility. Universal principles cannot be invoked selectively without being emptied of meaning.
As 2026 begins, introspection must move beyond ritualistic rhetoric. Kashmir faces a clear and unavoidable choice: uphold constitutional and moral principles consistently, irrespective of identity and convenience, or continue a tradition of selective outrage that has already cost generations of social capital. The path forward does not lie in louder slogans or deeper silences, but in the courage to apply the same standards to everyone—especially to ourselves.
(GL Raina is a former Member of the legislative council of erstwhile Jammu Kashmir and spokesperson of the BJP JK-UT)
