In June this year, violent clashes erupted between police and local protestors in Pakistan-administered Jammu and Kashmir (PaJK), resulting in death and injuries to scores of people. The immediate trigger for the protests was the ban on the Joint Awami Action Committee (JAAC), a grassroots civil society coalition, under the Anti-Terrorism Act. The JAAC had emerged in 2023 to protest soaring electricity bills, wheat prices, and governance issues. Islamabad’s approach to the festering grievances — while it did meet some demands, larger issues have been ignored — together with its use of force against protesters, has resulted in the periodic eruption of mass protests.
Political analyst and author of “Across the LoC: Inside Pakistan-Administered Jammu and Kashmir” Luv Puri spoke to The Diplomat’s South Asia editor Sudha Ramachandran about what is driving this little-known but important and complex conflict on the Pakistani side of the Line of Control (LoC), the de facto border between the two parts of Jammu and Kashmir (J&K). The “protest demands combine everyday governance concerns with deeper structural, political, and economic issues,” Puri said.
Unlike disquiet on the Indian side of Jammu and Kashmir, which manifested in an armed insurgency against the Indian state, public anger in PaJK has been more muted. However, Islamabad cannot be complacent. As Puri noted, “while many participants state that their demands are not directed against Pakistan itself, they also express frustration over contradictions within Pakistan’s Kashmir policy and the handling of dissent.”
What triggered the recent violence in Pakistan-administered Jammu and Kashmir (PaJK)?
The recent unrest in PaJK – which has reportedly claimed at least 20 lives this year according to official figures, following at least 17 deaths during last year’s protests – appears less an isolated episode than the continuation of a deeper political and social process that has become increasingly visible over the past two years. Rather than a sudden eruption of discontent, the recurring protests point to accumulating grievances over governance, representation, and the relationship between the region and Pakistan’s federal establishment. Focusing only on immediate triggers risks overlooking deeper frustrations shaped by decades of political manipulation, constrained political expression and perceptions of political hypocrisy.
The Joint Awami Action Committee (JAAC) was banned by the establishment, which also announced rewards for information leading to the arrest of its members. The locals cite the decision as an example of hypocrisy, noting that less than a year earlier, senior Pakistani ministers such as Interior Minister Rana Sanaullah had met with several of the group’s leaders to address their demands.
What stands out is that the protest demands combine everyday governance concerns with deeper structural, political, and economic issues. They range from improving public services, including access to MRI facilities and healthcare, to institutional reforms such as abolishing the reserved refugee seats in the legislative assembly. Taken together, these demands suggest that public discontent extends beyond administrative shortcomings to the very framework through which PaJK is governed. The movement, therefore, is not merely about service delivery but also about questions of political representation, accountability, and the region’s constitutional relationship with Pakistan.
Alongside this, a current of opinion supporting an independent Jammu and Kashmir has persisted within the region. Its supporters have long argued that they bore the brunt of state pressure. Notably, among figures associated with recent agitation, some identified by authorities belong to this ideological stream. While immediate grievances may trigger mobilization, they often reveal deeper, long-standing tensions. In PaJK, the current unrest must therefore be understood within a broader political history shaped by the unresolved legacies of Partition and growing discontent with the Pakistani state’s political and constitutional approach to the region.
The recent developments also unfolded within a broader geopolitical context in which Pakistan’s international profile appeared to rise following its role in facilitating dialogue between the United States and Iran. Against this backdrop, the Pakistani establishment viewed the crisis as an unnecessary domestic irritant to be defused quickly and, unlike during a similar episode last year, adopted a more hardline posture.
Media reports have drawn attention to governance issues. But there are strong political roots to the anger and unrest. Could you throw light on this? What is the political arrangement in PaJK?
There is little doubt that political factors underpin much of the anger and periodic unrest witnessed in PaJK. The region’s institutions evolved not in isolation but within the broader framework of Pakistan’s Kashmir policy and its wider political culture. At a broader level, political leadership in PaJK has often shifted alongside changes in Islamabad. Given the region’s institutional structure and financial dependence, Pakistan retains significant political and fiscal leverage, reinforcing perceptions that political outcomes are externally influenced rather than locally driven.
The Islamabad-based Kashmir Council, chaired by Pakistan’s prime minister, was widely regarded as more influential than the PaJK Legislative Assembly for much of the region’s history. Although the 13th Amendment to the Interim PaJK Constitution in 2018 transferred many of the Council’s powers to the PaJK government, critics contend that Pakistan’s federal establishment continues to exercise significant influence through other constitutional and administrative mechanisms.
Geography and economics also mattered. A mountainous region with limited economic diversification, combined with the centrality of Kashmir in Pakistan’s national imagination, left limited space for politics focused primarily on local governance and socio-economic issues. Even so, local leadership has generally remained aware of political red lines. Demands have largely been framed around governance, more fiscal outlays from Islamabad, and budgetary allocations commensurate with population rather than complete rupture.
Why is the question of refugee seats so contentious?
First, it is important to explain what these 12 seats represent. The 12 reserved seats, commonly referred to as the “refugee seats,” in the PaJK Legislative Assembly are designated for individuals and families who migrated to Pakistan in 1947 from areas that today fall on the Indian side of J&K.
Their origins lie in the demographic and political realities of the undivided princely state. Before Partition, communities speaking allied languages, including Dogri, Punjabi, Pahari, and Gojri formed the majority of the state’s population. The principal migration from J&K to Pakistan was from this category. Jammu province, including much of present-day PaJK, had a Muslim majority alongside the Kashmir valley, though geographical and political differences shaped distinct responses to the events of 1947 in both regions. Migration from the Kashmir valley itself remained limited, although figures such as K. Khurshid, then the Mirwaiz (the religious head in the Kashmir valley), and some elite families relocated.
Today, the 12 refugee seats are divided equally: six for descendants of refugees from Jammu and six from Kashmir. Since most first-generation refugees have passed away, the electorate largely consists of second-, third-, and fourth-generation descendants now integrated into Pakistani cities.
Yet these seats continue to carry disproportionate political weight. Around 436,000 registered voters elect these 12 seats, while roughly 330,000 voters elect the remaining 33 directly elected seats in PaJK, giving refugee constituencies greater electoral influence per voter.
Within the Pakistani establishment or even some legislators elected from these seats, the intensity of reactions whenever these seats are questioned reflects how they remain tied to memories of Partition, displacement, and loss. These experiences continue to shape political identity across generations. Speaking in Pakistan’s National Assembly, Pakistan’s Defense Minister Khawaja Asif, who hails from the border city of Sialkot, a city that received many refugee families from the Jammu plains after Partition, defended the reserved refugee seats on the grounds that they recognize the sacrifices made by these families during the 1947 Partition. He invoked memories of women who, he said, had jumped into the River Chenab to escape the violence of 1947.
Similar memories exist among many Hindu and Sikh families on the Indian side who got displaced from PaJK. My own family carries such memories. My aged and ailing maternal great-grandfather was killed by his own son while fleeing the 1947 violence, because his son refused to abandon him as mobs were chasing the family. Stories like these remind us that behind competing national narratives are human experiences of fear, loss, and impossible choices on both sides.
The debate over these seats, therefore, reflects two competing impulses: for refugee descendants, they symbolize recognition of historical suffering; for many residents inside PaJK, they increasingly represent an institutional arrangement that amplifies constituencies outside the territory and can potentially be used by governments in Islamabad to influence electoral outcomes within PaJK. At the same time, the anger and unrest over these seats reflect accumulated frustration over nearly eight decades of keeping the region’s political status and aspirations in limbo under Pakistan’s approach to J&K. While some sections of the region, particularly the political elite, benefited from this arrangement, the wider society increasingly appears to be questioning the costs of this prolonged uncertainty.
The recent unrest is not the first time that grievances have exploded in violence. Yet anger in PaJK has not manifested in an armed insurgency against the Pakistani state, as it did on the Indian side of J&K. Why?
The undivided princely state of J&K was a diverse mosaic of ethnic and linguistic communities. Jammu itself contained Dogri, Pahari, Gojri, and Punjabi-speaking populations and was more populous than the Kashmir valley, where the Kashmiri language was spoken. Before 1947, Srinagar remained economically connected with British India through Rawalpindi (undivided Punjab), while Jammu’s historical railway links ran through Sialkot (undivided Punjab). While Pakistan’s original claim rested on the Muslim-majority character of J&K and the fact that established links were with Pakistani Punjab areas, individual agency, popular sentiment and the subsequent ceasefire created new realities.
The LoC fundamentally reshaped political realities. With the entire Kashmir valley remaining on the Indian side, Kashmiri-speaking Muslims became the dominant political constituency within the Indian side of J&K. This occurred under the leadership of Sheikh Abdullah, whose political influence was central in creating political conditions that made accession to India possible. At the same time, the Kashmir valley defined the strength and limits of Sheikh Abdullah’s leadership in undivided J&K.
Sheikh Abdullah’s later estrangement from New Delhi after August 9, 1953 introduced new complexities into the relationship between the Indian state and J&K. Yet, he retained an ability to absorb and channel public sentiment, eschewing violence. After his death, successive leaderships operated with declining political capital. Subsequent developments, including the dismissal of Farooq Abdullah in the 1984 coup, largely seen as engineered by the center and the widely criticized 1987 election, further weakened political legitimacy. These internal developments coincided with Pakistan’s continued search for strategic opportunities. Local disaffection of Kashmiri-speaking Muslims, the absence of Sheikh Abdullah, and Pakistani support converged in the late 1980s, contributing to violence whose consequences continue to shape J&K and the wider India-Pakistan relations today.
PaJK followed a different trajectory. Until 1947, most of the present-day PaJK formed part of Jammu Province, with the exception of Muzaffarabad District, which belonged to Kashmir Province. However, Muzaffarabad, like much of the rest of the region, was predominantly Pothwari- or Pahari-speaking. Its politics evolved under stronger patterns of administrative oversight and within the strategic importance Pakistan attached to the Kashmir question.
India, while maintaining its formal claim over PaJK, invested relatively limited attention and resources in shaping outcomes inside PaJK and gradually operated within the practical logic of the ceasefire line and later the LoC as a de facto boundary without recognizing it as an international border. On the Indian side, there are leaders like the former J&K CM Farooq Abdullah who have consistently advocated for the Line of Control becoming the international border. Even today, India’s public response to developments in PaJK remains relatively calibrated.
Recent protests and movements in PaJK reveal a more complex reality: while many participants state that their demands are not directed against Pakistan itself, they also express frustration over contradictions within Pakistan’s Kashmir policy and the handling of dissent.
Both regions, therefore, require independent historical inquiry. Their trajectories diverged as each evolved under different political, social, and strategic conditions.
Fencing near the Line of Control that divides Kashmir between India and Pakistan at Silikote near the Line of Control. Photo by Shuaib Masoodi.
