by Anam Zakaria
According to BBC, ‘Mr Shahid was a vocal critic of Pakistan’s alleged role in sending militants to fight a “proxy war” against India in Indian-administered Kashmir. He also criticized Pakistan’s policy of treating Kashmir as its “colony”. The Pakistani government banned him from travelling abroad in 2009, and later confiscated his passport and other identification documents. The ministry of interior told a court in December 2012 that his documents had been confiscated due to his “anti-state activities…”’10 Following his death, ‘Protestors carried banners with slogans against the Pakistani Army and the ISI intelligence service, which they blamed for the killing.’11 It is said that this was the first time a prominent nationalist leader was eliminated in this manner. However, according to Fazal Baig, several other nationalist leaders have also been targeted.
‘The agencies claim that so-and-so individual handed over confidential documents to Indian forces, that they are Indian agents and under those false allegations they arrest anyone who they see as a threat. My friend Colonel Nadir Hussain has been in jail for three months because he wanted to raise a voice against the issues that would be created for his people by the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC) in Gilgit-Baltistan. Pakistan saw him as an obstacle to their development projects and picked him up. Baba Jan, a prominent leader from Gilgit, has been given life imprisonment. Do you know what his crime was? He and his colleagues were simply demanding compensation for the villagers who had been displaced due to a landslide in Hunza river. The police opened fire and killed a few people during the protest. When Baba Jan raised his voice against the police, he was taken in and charged with violating the Anti-Terrorism Act. Many other people have been arrested too. We think it is because a new movement has begun in the region. People are becoming more aware and beginning to demand their rights. Out of fear that they may become powerful and attract more people to their movement, they are picked up by the establishment and get no chance to prove their innocence in court. The punishment is usually decided without following any due legal course.’
For the likes of Fazal Baig and Kamran Baig, Pakistan is as much of an occupier as India is on the other side. In fact, they also hold China equally responsible. ‘In 1966, when the NSF was established, members of the organization were certain that the aim was to seek independence from the two big nations, India and Pakistan. Later, China also became a part of that equation. We (those who advocate independence) believe that Hindustan, Pakistan and China are all to blame for our state,’ Kamran told me. ‘But we have always been clear that we would seek independence from all three nations through a political process, through democratic struggle. We have never taken a pro-India stance to speak ill about Pakistan or a pro-Pakistan stance to speak ill about India. We believe that both Pakistan and Hindustan have wanted to divide us from the beginning so that they could loot us.’
Visibly boiling with anger, over the next few minutes Kamran spoke even more openly about what he perceived as Pakistan’s hypocritical role in Kashmir. ‘Militant organizations that are banned in Pakistan are openly operating here in Kashmir. The National Action Plan, which was established to address militancy in Pakistan, is used against us nationalists, while militants are given sanctuary on our mountains. (The National Action Plan was implemented in Pakistan after the Peshawar attack on the Army Public School in 2014.) Publishers have been banned in Mirpur and Rawalakot, political restrictions have been imposed upon us. Earlier we could still speak up against the Pakistani establishment but now they use the National Action Plan to stop us. Pakistan used to be a liberal state but in the late 1970s it went towards being a militant Pakistan and today it is suffering the most itself… woh jo aaj fasal kaat raha hai woh mere khayal mein uski hi boyi hui hai (the seeds of the harvest it is reaping today, in my opinion, were sown by Pakistan itself). But we tell them… the Pakistani establishment… prepare as many mujahids as you want, no one in the world can divide Srinagar from Muzaffarabad, Gilgit-Baltistan from Ladakh. For over sixty years the routes between us have been closed but people still love each other the same way. In comparison to Pakistan, people from Gilgit, from Srinagar, from Jammu give us more love.’
Without inhibition, Kamran asserted that Pakistan supported the militancy movement in Kashmir during the 1980s and ’90s, including giving support to the JKLF’s militant activities. ‘Support to the JKLF came very clearly from the establishment. However, from the very start, the JKLF’s agenda was independence. At that time there was a widespread fervour for independence, and the JKLF wanted Pakistan’s help in seeking that independence. But then, in the 1990s, Pakistan went a step further and created Islamist outfits like Hizbul Mujahideen and gave the entire movement a religious angle to crush any pro-independence sentiment being promoted by the JKLF. The Hizbul Mujahideen, which could still be construed somewhat as an indigenous movement, was then succeeded by (Punjabi) outfits… the likes of Jaish-e-Mohammad, Lashkar-e-Taiba, etc. These external extremist organizations hijacked the indigenous movement to such an extent that today, none of these so-called freedom fighters are residents of the state of Jammu and Kashmir, nor do they represent us. I mean, if they truly represented us, why wouldn’t they come and talk to us, ask us what we wanted? We don’t even know the faces of the people who are apparently fighting for our freedom.’
While Kamran and Fazal agreed that after 9/11 many of these organizations faced crackdowns, they also believed that they were not eliminated entirely because the Pakistani establishment did not want to create a vacuum in ‘Azad’ Kashmir, which could be usurped by nationalist elements. ‘We believe the establishment still continues to support these militant outfits. It gives sanctuary to groups like Lashkar-e-Taiba, Jamaat-ud-Dawa and Jaish-e-Mohammad so that they can recruit youngsters and crush any desire for independence,’ Fazal claimed.
When I asked them if the NSF or the nationalists on this side of the LoC ever thought of joining the militancy movement to gain independence, Kamran shook his head. ‘In terms of our mandate, there is certainly a link between the NSF and organizations like the JKLF but we have never shifted from our political and democratic stance. They picked up weapons but we have never done that. We do understand that in every freedom struggle there comes a point when people have to use force but until we reach that point, we are focused on making people politically aware and mature. Freedom isn’t just my problem or the NSF or the JKLF’s problem… it is a problem of 1.5-2 crore people who reside in the state of Jammu and Kashmir—on both sides of the divide. Until they rise up, who am I to fight for their freedom using weapons?’
Taking a deep breath and asking the waiter to bring tea and biscuits for everyone, he paused for a moment and Fazal took advantage of it, offering his own perspective, which was less critical of the JKLF and the like in Indian-administered Kashmir.
‘As a student of Maqbool Bhatt and as a member of the National Awami Party, I believe that people like Yasin Malik of the JKLF in makbooza Kashmir are struggling based on their ground realities. I don’t want to judge them because I’m not standing with them. The people struggling there have never made us their target… we are all struggling in our own ways. They are doing it as best as they can and we are doing it as best as we can. We feel that even if only 1 per cent of those sitting in makbooza Kashmir truly want azadi, it is only because of them that we are sitting here and talking today. It is because of them that the Kashmir issue was highlighted internationally. It has given the people of Gilgit-Baltistan, Muzaffarabad and Jammu a chance to speak up. We are all struggling based on the foundation that they created. Otherwise, it would have just remained a domestic issue.’
Kamran remained quiet for a moment and I was uncertain if he agreed with Fazal. When he spoke again, he decided to change the topic. ‘You must understand that the situation on both sides of the LoC is very different,’ he began, his voice calmer than before but only fleetingly before the fiery passion returned. ‘Udhar log jismani ghulam hain, idhar zehni ghulami hain!’ (Over there the oppressi
on is visible in the form of physical abuse. But here, it is the enslavement of the mind which is the biggest problem.) In makbooza Kashmir, people at least react. They throw stones at the Indian forces. They hold processions and rallies and criticize Indian policies. Here, I believe the situation is even worse. People are prisoners of the mind. There is fear everywhere, people are too afraid to ask questions, to speak up. People do not even know they are oppressed, that there is hegemonic control over every minute detail of their lives, from what they eat to where they work.’
‘Pakistan creates so much noise about the presence of seven to eight lakh army officials in makbooza Kashmir… where the population is large (according to the 2011 Indian census, the total population of J&K is 12,541,302),’12 Fazal interjected, this time in agreement with Kamran, ‘yet in Neelum Valley, where there are just about 2 or 2.5 lakh people, even if you make a generous estimate, there are lakhs of army personnel present all over. (As mentioned in Chapter 1, army check-posts, camps and patrolling remain frequently visible. However, official statistics are not easily available on the number of armed personnel in the region, and so it is difficult to give an accurate estimation and to gauge how precise Fazal’s assessment is.) If you have travelled to Neelum Valley, you must have seen all the check-posts one has to drive through all the way from Muzaffarabad. Even if women are travelling with you, the soldiers flash lights into your car, they ask for your ID cards, harass people. They make the passengers get out and fill in their information, but this is a violation of our privacy. You have to tell them where you’re coming from, where you’re going. Most of these soldiers don’t even know anything about the area… you could say you’re going to Srinagar or Baramulla (which fall in Indian-administered Kashmir), and they still wouldn’t know, so it’s all a drama, just to harass ordinary people!’
On each of my eight trips to ‘Azad’ Kashmir, I certainly had to go through various check-posts, entering information at multiple points on the way. Many of the check-posts are not just barricades that one has to cross, as in most parts of Pakistan, but are in fact gated army communities that one has to drive through. And yes, often the soldiers posted there do not know much about the territory. Once, when Haroon and I were in Shardah, Neelum Valley, we had asked a soldier how far the Line of Control was from us. He seemed to have no idea but to cover up his ignorance had stated that it was very far away. Later, we learnt that we were in fact quite close to the LoC. Many of the soldiers come from Punjab or other provinces of Pakistan, unaware of the complex political realities of the region. Despite having visited Neelum Valley several times over the past few years, it is still difficult for me to decipher whether it is Indian- or Pakistani-administered territory across from me. For ordinary Indian and Pakistani soldiers, it must be as challenging to distinguish between names like Aishmuqam or Kupwara in Indian-administered Kashmir and Athmuqam or Kutton in Pakistan-administered Kashmir.
Apart from genuine unfamiliarity and ignorance regarding the region, military personnel often share darker, more violent tendencies as well. Armies from around the world have been accused of rape, harassment and abuse, be it the UN peacekeeping forces in Central African Republic13 or the US army in Iraq.14 Indian forces have also come under serious condemnation over the years over rape charges in Kashmir. The book, Do You Remember Kunan Poshpora?, written by five Kashmiri women activists, provides detailed insight into the reported gangrape of women from two Kashmiri villages in Kupwara district in Indian-administered Kashmir, at the hands of Indian forces in 1991. Reportedly, ‘the Indian army soldiers… raped between twenty-three and (one) hundred women in Kashmir’s Kunan and Poshpora villages’,15 with some estimates placing the number of rape victims at forty.16 The book details how ‘rape has been used as a weapon of war and terror in Kashmir’.17 Until this research I had never heard of any rape charges against Pakistani military personnel in ‘Azad’ Kashmir. Yet, according to Fazal, women have faced a similar fate on this side—though the scale and frequency of such atrocities have been less as compared to Indian-administered Kashmir. While some cases must go unreported, Fazal tells me of a woman who was allegedly raped by soldiers in 2005.
‘The woman, who belonged to Palri village in Neelum Valley, had gone to collect firewood when she was raped by three soldiers. The case surfaced as an example only because a BBC reporter heard about the story and filed a report. A proper FIR was registered and there were protests all over Neelum Valley. This was the first time an incident like this actually made headlines. However, soon, a few army generals from GHQ (General Headquarters, Rawalpindi) came and said mitti pao (let the case go). Usually such cases just get suppressed under pressure.’
The BBC report regarding the incident states, ‘This is the first alleged rape in Pakistan-administered Kashmir in which military personnel have been accused… hundreds of people from Palri and neighbouring villages staged a protest in nearby Athmuqam… demanding the culprits be arrested… and brought to justice. The woman’s brother-in-law says military authorities were informed of the incident. But, he says, instead of helping they put pressure on his family not to pursue the case…“When our protectors started plundering our honour, who are we supposed to turn to?” he asked in the application.’18 According to the BBC article, the police report alleged that there had been another attempt to rape a woman in Bun Chattar village in Neelum Valley, which also involved military personnel, but the villagers had decided not to press charges as she had managed to escape.
Just two to three years ago, another woman was allegedly abducted from Athmuqam in Neelum Valley. Locals say that an official in the establishment picked her up against her will. The woman was already married and had children. According to the locals, the officials put pressure on the family not to file a case. They told them to forget about their daughter, wife and mother. No one ever saw her again.
‘Anyone is capable of crime,’ Fazal continued, ‘regardless of their religion, colour or caste. Our women have to walk through these military camps to go to school, to go to the market, and suffer harassment on a daily basis. Has the Pakistani establishment ever thought of that? Why do we need so many check-posts, so much security, so much military presence? And if it is there, shouldn’t it be targeted at the Indian forces? Why are common people harassed? After all these years, the Pakistani establishment still does not trust Kashmiris. They feel we need to be constantly scrutinized, constantly watched… why? No foreign national (without a no-objection certificate, which is extremely difficult to obtain) is allowed…’
After the 2005 earthquake, when outsiders were finally allowed into one of the most closed-off territories in the world, for humanitarian assistance, ‘Azad’ Kashmir came under international scrutiny. The Human Rights Watch published a 72-page report, ‘With friends like these,’ the title based on the quote of a Muzaffarabadbased resident who stated, ‘Pakistan says they are our friends and India is our enemy, but with friends like these, who needs enemies?’19 According to Brad Adams, Asia director of the Human Rights Watch, ‘The Pakistani authorities govern Azad Kashmir with strict controls on basic freedoms.’20 The report detailed narratives of persecution, imprisonments, corruption, censorship, and abuse of Kashmiris who do not swear allegiance to the Pakistani state and narrative. ‘Singled out are Kashmiri nationalists who do not support the idea of Kashmir’s accession to Pakistan. Anyone who wants to take part in public life has to sign a pledge of loyalty to Pakistan, while anyone who publicly supports or works for an independent Kashmir is persecuted. For those expressing independent or unpopular views, there is a pervasive fear of Pakistani military intelligence services—and of militant organizations acting at their behest or independently.’21
Brad Adams further stated, ‘The Pakistani government often pretends that the only problems faced by Kashmiris are in India. It should start looking into ways of ending human rights abuses in Azad Kashmir.’22 This is exactly the kind of inspection and advice that the Pakistani establishment would like to avoid. No wonder fo
reign nationals have to obtain no-objection certificates in order to enter. Meanwhile, my friend Sharjeel tells me that local journalists are pressured into silence. They face threats and economic deprivation when they attempt to challenge the Pakistani state narrative.
‘If you ask me to compare makbooza Kashmir and Pakistan-occupied Kashmir, I would say there is more political freedom on that side,’ Kamran interjected from the corner. ‘The Pakistani media states that 70 per cent of people in Srinagar raise the Pakistani flag and want to join Pakistan, but I say that means that makbooza Kashmir gives its residents greater rights. Here, no one would dare raise the Indian flag. There is more torture there, more abuse by the Indian forces, but at least Kashmiris can protest, at least there is a reaction, some retaliation.’
Based on my research, I doubt anyone would want to raise the Indian flag in Pakistan-administered Kashmir. The women I had interviewed by the LoC had threatened the armed forces, claiming that they would raise the Indian flag at Keran to intimidate the Pakistan Army into ensuring that no infiltration took place from their area. But even as they narrated this incident, they had laughed at the sheer absurdity of the idea. It is my understanding that even if ‘Azad’ Kashmiris are dissatisfied with Pakistani policies—and many indeed are—they are equally, if not more, disgruntled by Indian policies. As mentioned earlier, for them the fact that Pakistan, at least publicly, acknowledges that the political status of Kashmir can only be resolved after a plebiscite—as per the wishes of the people—is in stark contrast to India’s stance on the dispute, which claims that J&K is an integral part of the country. Moreover, while cases of rape and torture have materialized in ‘Azad’ Kashmir, they do not match the scale and frequency of the reported use of force by the Indian Army. In 2016, when pellet injuries and arrests were taking place across Indian-administered Kashmir, hundreds of ‘Azad’ Kashmiris came out in the streets to protest against these violent means of control. In 2017, when an Indian Army officer resorted to using a civilian as a human shield during elections, it provoked wide condemnation against human rights violations in Indian-administered Kashmir. And when Major Leetul Gogoi, who strapped the twenty-six-year old Farooq Ahmad Dar to the army vehicle as a ‘human shield’, was ‘awarded the chief of army staff’s commendation card for his sustained effort in counter-insurgency operations’,23 it further provoked people inside and outside of Kashmir. The Human Rights Watch reportedly stated: ‘The Indian Army’s rewarding of an officer for actions that included serious human rights violations undermines accountability and the stature of the military.’24
