Petty politicking in Ladakh will have terrible consequences
Ghazala Wahab
In one of those cruel twists of destiny, the moment Ladakh–which had been craving separation from the state of Jammu and Kashmir for decades–was made into a Union Territory in August 2019 after the government of India revoked Articles 370 and 35A and dismantled J&K into two UTs, its future got irrevocably intertwined with its former parent state and now a fellow UT.
While delimiting the boundaries of the two newly created UTs, the government had to also define the limits of Indian territory in Ladakh vis a vis China, replacing ambiguity with assertion. China promptly protested India’s unilateralism, rightly pointing out that historically there was no defined boundary between the two countries in this region. Conscious that China had history on its side, external affairs minister S. Jaishankar travelled to China to mollify the leadership there, explaining that India’s creation of border lines on the map did not change the reality on the ground. But China was not convinced.
In the early summer of 2020, just as the snow started to melt, the People’s Liberation Army sauntered into south eastern Ladakh up to the area it had been urging India to recognise as Chinese territory since the late 1950s. It continues to occupy that area, denying access to even local shepherds such as the Champa community to graze their cattle. And so, of the erstwhile state of Jammu and Kashmir nearly half is in the occupation of China and Pakistan, inexorably weaving the entire region—Jammu, Kashmir and Ladakh–together in one conflict zone; where resolution might only be a matter of deference to shared history and a nod to common future.
The remote and uninhabited eastern and south-eastern parts of Ladakh have for centuries been used as transit by trading caravans from China/ Tibet onwards to Central Asia, through East Turkestan (Chinese province of Xinjiang). Some of these caravans also travelled westwards into Kashmir, before moving north towards Gilgit en route Tajikistan through the Wakhan corridor. Trade spawned cultural, culinary, linguistic and religious linkages weaving this entire region into a tapestry of shared history and heritage.
The British colonialism not only sought to divide the land through arbitrary lines on unilaterally drawn maps, but also introduced elements of xenophobic identities in the region that historically absorbed all influences without the insider-outsider consciousness. Though the retreating British could not enforce their lines in Ladakh, they did succeed in creating distinct identities—religious, regional and linguistic. Hence, despite being regarded as part of the Kashmir province for political and administrative purposes for over a century, a few decades after Independence, the people of Ladakh started to bristle at the attention the Kashmir valley got from the mainstream India. The excessive attention also meant that out of Union government’s largesse for the state of Jammu and Kashmir, Ladakh got the smallest share. Worse, the region didn’t even figure in the name of the state, which made allowances for only the two provinces of Jammu and Kashmir. They got to share the state capital too!
The neglect of Ladakh was deliberate. From New Delhi’s perspective, the climatically inhospitable Ladakh was a buffer between India and China, especially after latter’s annexation of Tibet in 1951. Just as the government did not develop areas bordering China, including building of roads, for the fear of People’s Liberation Army using those to intrude into Indian territory, several parts of Ladakh were closed to Indian citizens, forget foreigners. These areas required a special permission from the ministry of defence, called Inner Line Permit, for access. The famous Zanskar Valley itself was opened to Indian tourists only in 1998.
In a topographically challenging—extreme high mountains and narrow deep valleys—and ecologically fragile region, tourism is one of the major means of civilian economic activity. Ladakh was deprived of this for a long time. In 1974, when buoyed by the success of its war against Pakistan in 1971, and China closing its borders with India in Ladakh, the government started to promote tourism, the efforts were constrained by geography. The airport at Leh, Ladakh’s largest town, was (and continues to be, despite a portion being run by Airports Authority of India) designated as a defence airport was operated by the Indian Air Force. The civilian flights were limited, hugely expensive and subject to weather conditions.
The road connectivity was similarly limited. Only two national highways connect Ladakh with mainland India. One links the Manali region of Himachal Pradesh to the Zanskar valley through the Rohtang Pass at an altitude of 13,000 feet. This Pass closes to traffic with the onset of snow and opens only after the spring when the snow melts and the road is made motorable again, roughly between late October to early May. The other road traverses the Kashmir valley and enters Ladakh through Zoji la at 11,580 ft. Like Rohtang, this also closes during winter. However, owing to lower altitude, and better weather conditions, Zoji la remains motorable until the middle of November and usually opens by the end of March.
Either way, for at least six weeks, Ladakh has no road connectivity with the rest of the country. This situation may change in the next few years once the under-construction all-weather Zoji la tunnel becomes operational. Tunnel connectivity is also in the works for the Rohtang Pass. But many places within Ladakh also have no connectivity with each other during winter. For instance, the Zanskar Valley, which can be reached only through Penzi la at over 14,400 ft is cut off from the rest of the region once the pass closes, sometimes for as long as four to five months. Similarly, the 215km highway between Kargil (Ladakh’s second largest town) and Leh traverses two mountain passes, Fotu la and Namika la at 13,400 ft and 12,000 ft respectively. If both or one of these passes close in winter, Kargil becomes an island on snow.
“Leh has an airport,” points out the member of Parliament from Ladakh, Haji Hanifa Jan, who hails from Kargil. “But all these years nobody thought about the plight of the people of Kargil, until the war in 1998,” he says referring to the Kargil conflict. During the conflict, the people of Kargil worked closely with the Indian military. “I have carried army load on my back, like so many other young boys and men at that time,” recalls Jan.
So, after the war, as an outreach to the people of Kargil, and also to ensure that Kashmiri insurgency didn’t spill over into the predominantly Muslim part of Ladakh, the Indian Army launched Operation Sadbhavana. The officer spearheading it was Lt Gen. Arjan Ray, whom Jan remembers fondly.
“He really understood the plight of the people of Kargil,” says Jan, “who caught between Kashmir and Leh, always got a raw deal.” Among other things that Ray did under Sadbhavana to help the people of Kargil was facilitating humanitarian flights by Indian Air Force’s AN-32 from Kargil to Srinagar and Jammu. Once a winter or need-based human courier service, now the AN-32 flights have become a weekly feature with a ticket of Rs 2,500 per person.
The aftermath of the conflict, incidentally, also put Kargil on the tourist map. A new category of patriotic tourism emerged, especially after the ceasefire on the Line of Control in November 2003. Zero Bridge, Dras and Kargil became part of a well-trodden circuit which combined fun in Sonamarg with nationalism in Kargil.
Together, But Separately
Jan was in New Delhi in the middle of October to mediate a compromise between the ministry of home affairs (MHA) and scientist-activist Sonam Wangchuk, who had been on a protest fast at Ladakh Bhawan for nearly a fortnight. He eventually ended his protest after the government assured him that it will restore the high-powered committee on Ladakh comprising senior officials from the ministry of home affairs, the Ladakh member of Parliament, chairman of the Ladakh Hill Council and three members each from Kargil and Leh; and re-commence dialogue, which was stalled due to the General Elections of 2024.
On social media, Wangchuk has been talking about protecting the glaciers and the environment of Ladakh, which is an ecologically fragile region. However, the four-point agenda which the high-powered committee has been discussing since 2020 and will continue to discuss, does not include environment.
Jan is dismissive of Wangchuk’s public outreach on environment. A career politician who spent his formative years in the National Conference, Jan is conscious of his political powers and limitations. He is also candid about his politics.
“As Kargilis, we were aware of how our interests were secure when we were part of the state of J&K,” he says. “Even when Leh wanted to break away from the state and become a UT, Kargil wanted to remain with the state. This is the reason, after the abrogation of Articles 370 and 35A, while Leh celebrated, there were protests in Kargil. The reason was simple. We are a sparsely populated, border area. The total population of Ladakh is barely four lakh, 90 per cent of whom is tribal. But we live on a large landmass. The fear of demographic change is very real for us.”
According to Jan, since PLA’s occupation of April 2020, the two districts of Ladakh—Kargil and Leh—had been in conversation with one another through Kargil Democratic Alliance (formed in 2020) and Leh Apex Body. With the Chinese physically on their lands, for the first time the Ladakhis realised the importance of speaking in one voice. Thereafter, they evolved a four-point agenda to start a dialogue with the Centre.
The first on their list is conversion of Ladakh into a full-fledged state, failing which, an empowered UT with a legislature. But the government cannot give them this. Any change in Ladakh’s political status today will have implications with China. And Jan is aware of this. He nods at my comment, without saying anything. Finally, he says, “Our people have been facing a lot of problem since 2020. Our grazing grounds have been taken away. Even in areas where there are no Chinese soldiers, Indian Army does not allow the shepherds to graze their cattle. Who would know better than us how sensitive the situation is.”
The second and the third point of the agenda emanates from the abrogation of Articles 370 and 35A. In their absence, the Ladakhis are demanding protection of their land, identity and culture under the Sixth schedule of the Constitution. Development is a double-edged sword. As connectivity to the region increases bringing greater influx of both tourists and traders, there will be social and cultural influences on the local society.
“The people of Leh are realising now how their culture would be overwhelmed by the so-called development. They see the Spiti Valley and shudder,” he says referring to the explosion of tourism-driven infrastructure and erosion of Buddhist culture.
The third agenda point demands an institution of either a separate Public Service Commission for Ladakh or reservation for Ladakhis in Jammu & Kashmir Public Service Commission (JKPSC). “Until 2019, we used to be covered under JKPSC. But since then, there has been no UT level recruitment from Ladakh. We get no reservation in all-India recruitment. The dreams of our children who were preparing for the civil services have been shattered.”
For the last agenda point, Jan draws attention to his own election as an independent candidate because the two constituents of the Congress-led INDIA couldn’t reach a consensus. According to Jan, Congress wanted a consensus candidate from Leh, instead of Kargil.
“So much for its claims of secularism,” he sneers. “The party did not want Ladakh to be represented by a Muslim candidate. After all these years of promoting Ladakh as the ‘Land of the Lama’ and ignoring its Muslim population, the Congress continues to propagate the idea that Ladakh is a Buddhist majority region.”
Congress’ reluctance to support Jan perhaps stemmed from the identity the government of India wanted to create for Ladakh. In the 1970s, when Ladakh, essentially Leh, was opened to tourism, the government presented it as a minor version of Tibet, by overplaying its Buddhist characteristics and underplaying the diversity of the region, which is home to several tribes of different ethnicities, majority of them Muslim (46.4 per cent). Though Buddhists comprise less than 40 per cent of the Ladakhi people (others being Hindus, Sikhs and Christians), there were probably two reasons for the super-imposition of the Buddhist identity. The first was to create a Buddhist tourist experience for international travellers who couldn’t go to Tibet. The presence of the Dalai Lama in India, and the broad similarity of the landscape helped in this. The second was to underplay the existence of multiple Muslim communities with affinities with the people of Baltistan, Xinjiang and other Central Asian countries, which reflected the historical reality of a border region until recently.
But with identity becoming a key determinant of politics, there has been a pushback against the monolith image of Ladakh, especially from Kargil. Says Jan, “One Parliament seat has been a cause of communalisation of politics in the region. This is extremely dangerous, given Ladakh’s uniqueness of bordering both Pakistan and China. Hence, to nip this communal sentiment, our fourth demand is that both Kargil and Leh should have a Parliament seat each.”
However, ignoring the demands of the Ladakhi people, earlier this year, the government announced the creation of five new districts in addition to the present two—Kargil and Leh. These are Zanskar, Nubra, Changthang, Sham and Dras. Of these only Dras is a Muslim dominated area, despite the religious group being the majority in the UT.
“It is clear that the government does not want to give adequate representation to the Muslims,” says Jan. “There have been protests in the past. There will be protests in the future too.”
Clearly, the government is indulging in dangerous politicking in a socially and communally volatile region. Given how much of our future now relies upon our history, it is important that before we start to distort it, we must have the facts about it. Of course, history is a tricky subject, and the truth depends upon who is chronicling it. But certain facts are sacrosanct, as they are corroborated by lived experiences and orally transmitted stories from one generation to another. Narratives do not replace memories. They could not do it in Kashmir; they will not do it in Ladakh. Could their futures be more aligned.