Opinion | The Hollow Drama of Pakistan’s Kashmir Solidarity Day

The reality on the ground is clear: Kashmiris do not need foreign actors to declare their pain or represent their aspirations. What they need is the freedom to live, learn, work, and dream without fear. The annual theatrics of February 5 are therefore meaningless to the very people they claim to support, and they serve only as a reminder of Pakistan’s enduring attempt to manipulate a narrative for its own political gains.

It has been quite some time since I began using social media, especially X, which, along with podcasts, has taught me a great deal about geopolitics. As an activist, I have read extensively about Kashmir, listened to stories witnessed firsthand by different people, studied old news reports, watched archival videos, and personally observed street violence from 2008 to 2018. From all this, I have drawn one clear conclusion: Kashmiris are inherently peace-loving, yet they have repeatedly been used as pawns by Pakistan and its local handlers. Ordinary Kashmiris have been manipulated and radicalized in the name of Islamic Jihad; a concept that mainstream Islam does not teach. The reality is that Pakistan and its proxies in Kashmir were effectively challenged only after 2019, when terrorism began to subside and stability slowly returned. Observing this shift, Pakistan has never missed an opportunity to keep its so-called Kashmir issue alive, attempting to internationalize it at every platform. Over the years, they have orchestrated various theatrical observances such as Self-Determination Day and Kashmir Solidarity Day, but these had little relevance in Kashmir before 2019 and now hold absolutely none.

Every February 5, Pakistan declares a national holiday, organizes rallies, seminars, and human chains, and urges global attention on Kashmir under the banner of solidarity. State media and officials flood social platforms with claims of standing with Kashmiris and denouncing India. What is striking to me as a Kashmiri is the disconnect between this carefully curated rhetoric and the reality experienced by the people of Kashmir. On the ground, ordinary Kashmiris remember the decades of disruption, violence, and loss that were fueled in part by Pakistan’s actions and its proxies. From 1990 to the mid-2010s, Pakistan-backed militant groups were responsible for the deaths of thousands of civilians, security personnel, and militants themselves. Schools and colleges remained closed for months at a time, commerce was disrupted, and families lived in fear. Young men and women were radicalized, while cultural figures and peace activists were often targeted. We saw the tragic death of TV artist Amreen Bhat, and social activists like Ghulam Rasool Magray, whose only crime was advocating for peace, being murdered. This is the kind of so-called solidarity that Pakistan has offered over decades, and it is remembered vividly by ordinary Kashmiris.

Since 2019, the situation has changed drastically. Terror incidents have declined sharply, educational institutions function without interruption, and tourism has revived, bringing economic opportunities to places like Pahalgam, Gulmarg, and Sonamarg. Ordinary Kashmiris are now aspiring to UPSC, starting businesses, pursuing higher education, and reclaiming their streets from fear and disruption. They are focused on stability, peace, and development, not on slogans propagated from Islamabad. The contrast between Pakistan’s theatrical observances and the everyday reality in Kashmir is stark. Pakistan’s propaganda fails to account for the agency, aspirations, and resilience of ordinary Kashmiris. Even more telling is the sentiment among Kashmiris towards Pakistan. I have witnessed it firsthand after terror attacks that targeted civilians and tourists. Following the cowardly attack on tourists in Pahalgam, thousands of Kashmiris spontaneously took to the streets, chanting “Pakistan Murdabad.” This was not orchestrated by any political party. It was a spontaneous expression of anger and rejection from people who have lived through decades of terror and disruption. It was a clear message: Pakistan has no moral claim to represent Kashmiris, and its propaganda is a theatre divorced from reality.

The hypocrisy of Pakistan’s claim is even more evident when one considers its own administration of Pakistan-occupied Jammu and Kashmir and Gilgit-Baltistan. Residents in these territories continue to face political disenfranchisement, lack of constitutional representation, and systemic suppression of dissent. Reports document mass protests over land rights, resource exploitation, and taxation without consent, often met with arrests, intimidation, and internet shutdowns. While Pakistan claims to champion the rights of Kashmiris across the Line of Control, it denies the same rights to millions living under its control. Any genuine solidarity would have to start at home, addressing the grievances of the people it administers. Several voices across Kashmir echo these truths. Bashir Ahmad, a fruit seller in Srinagar, remembers decades of shutdowns engineered by Pakistan-backed terrorism, which kept him indoors for years, unable to run his shop. Hajra, a women’s rights activist, points out that she would have been silenced or worse if she had tried to speak freely in 2010. Firdous Ahmad, a digital marketing specialist, highlights how Pakistan has continued to manipulate youth even in recent years through drugs and narco-terrorism along the borders. Ordinary Kashmiris see through the theatrics and understand that Pakistan’s so-called solidarity does not translate into improved security, education, or livelihood.

Kashmiris today are focused on reclaiming peace and building a future. Their aspirations are tangible: children attend school without fear, young adults pursue competitive exams and careers, tourism and commerce are thriving, and public spaces are no longer dominated by terror and violence. Pakistan’s performative observances on February 5 have no resonance with these lived realities. They are a propaganda exercise designed to internationalize an issue, while ignoring the concrete progress that has been made in the Valley. Pakistan’s narratives continue to misrepresent Kashmiris as victims awaiting foreign saviors, even as they exercise agency, participate in democracy, and shape their futures independently. For Pakistan to claim solidarity is, at best, a hollow gesture. At worst, it is an insult to the resilience of ordinary Kashmiris who have borne the brunt of decades of external interference. Solidarity cannot be a staged holiday or media campaign. It must be grounded in respect for the people’s agency, dignity, and safety. The reality on the ground is clear: Kashmiris do not need foreign actors to declare their pain or represent their aspirations. What they need is the freedom to live, learn, work, and dream without fear. The annual theatrics of February 5 are therefore meaningless to the very people they claim to support, and they serve only as a reminder of Pakistan’s enduring attempt to manipulate a narrative for its own political gains.

Kashmiris, whether shopkeepers, students, activists, or professionals, have sent a clear message over the years. The streets of Pahalgam, the classrooms of Srinagar, the offices of young entrepreneurs, and the homes of families across the Valley all testify to a new reality. Pakistan and its deep-state should have understood it the day their coward terrorists attacked our tourists. Every Kashmiri was out in the streets to chant “Pakistan Murdabad.” It was a huge slap on Pakistan, and the message could not have been clearer. Kashmiris have always loathed Pakistan for reasons that are evident and lived. For God’s sake, Pakistan should stop these dramas now and let us live the way we are—peaceful, developed, and evolving, reclaiming our future on our own terms.

The writer is a student activist and can be reached at soulofkashmir1@gmail.com