Opinion | ‘The Common Kashmiri Did No Wrong’: Why LG’s Statement Matters

The significance of Lt Governor Manoj Sinha’s statement for me is that it differentiates the guilty from the people. It reminds us that terrorists must be brought to justice for their crimes but we must not hold ordinary Kashmiris responsible for things they did not do or approve of.

A Kashmiri is often known for his gentleness, humility and hospitality. Ours is a land whose civilizational roots are deeply embedded in spirituality and communal harmony. Time and again, whether during the COVID-19 pandemic, the events following August 2019, natural calamities or prolonged road closures, ordinary Kashmiris have opened the doors of their homes to strangers, offering them shelter, food and comfort. Such gestures reflect the true character of our society. Yet, whenever a Kashmiri speaks about communal harmony, one question invariably follows: What about the exodus of the Kashmiri Pandits? It is a painful chapter of our history that cannot and should not be denied. The suffering of the Kashmiri Pandit community deserves remembrance, justice and dignity. At the same time, it is equally important to remember that terrorism does not recognise religion. Its only objective is to spread fear, hatred and division. Official records state that 219 Kashmiri Pandits lost their lives to terrorism. The Government has also recorded 14,125 civilian deaths in Jammu and Kashmir between 1990 and 2018 due to militancy, though it does not provide a religion-wise breakup. These figures are not meant to compare suffering. They remind us that terrorism devastated countless families and scarred every community. Even today, many Kashmiri Muslims continue to share close bonds with their Kashmiri Pandit brethren and sincerely hope for the day they return to their homeland with dignity and security. It is in this context that Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha’s recent statement at an inter-faith conference in Srinagar assumes particular significance. By saying that the common Kashmiri did no wrong in the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits, he introduced an important distinction between those who perpetrated terror and the society that endured its consequences. That distinction deserves serious reflection.

Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha’s statement in the recently held ‘Rishiwar’ Inter-Faith Conference at Sher-i-Kashmir International Conference Centre (SKICC), Srinagar deserves serious consideration. Addressing a gathering of religious leaders and dignitaries, he said: “Whatever has happened in Kashmir, the common man of Kashmir is not responsible for that. He said the ordinary Kashmiri should not be blamed for the tragedy of the exodus of the Kashmiri Pandit community which was masterminded by terrorists and those who prospered from violence. He also pointed out that those who were supposed to protect the people had instead exploited their sentiments and reiterated that Kashmir has been a land of spirituality, coexistence and communal harmony for centuries. He said that Constitution is the only religion of India and stressed on strengthening the bonds of brotherhood that have always defined the region. Initially, these comments may sound like just another political statement. But read more carefully and there is a much deeper message. They do not deny the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits. Nor do they try to dilute their suffering. Rather, they draw a distinction that has been lost in public discourse: the distinction between terrorists and the ordinary people who bore the brunt of their actions. I think that’s a timely and important distinction.

So why do I think this statement is important? The answer isn’t just what was said, but what it sought to differentiate. For decades, the story of the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits has been told through two extremes. On the one hand there are those who try to minimize or deny the tragedy. But there are those who believe that an entire society is morally responsible for what terrorists do. I feel both ways are doing a disservice to history. If there is one principle that every democratic society must maintain it is that responsibility for a crime is individual, not collective. We punish people who don’t follow the law. We cannot blame an entire community for the acts of individuals who happen to share the same religion, language or homeland. The terrorists who engineered the exodus deserve unequivocal condemnation. But extending that guilt to every ordinary Kashmiri risks replacing justice with generalisation. For this very reason, the Lieutenant Governor’s statement resonated with me as a Kashmiri. It is also equally important to understand that admitting the innocence of the common Kashmiri does not diminish the pain of the Kashmiri Pandits. Both truths can be true at once. We can accept that Kashmiri Pandits suffered through one of the darkest chapters of our history while at the same time acknowledge that thousands of ordinary Kashmiris, especially Muslims, fell victim to the same terrorism that wrecked the valley. We shouldn’t have to deny one truth to believe in another. What I find truly meaningful in the statement is its attempt to free a society from those who held it hostage. Terrorism wanted to divide neighbours, to break centuries-old relationships and to leave a legacy of mistrust. When we keep blurring the lines between the perpetrators and the people, we unwittingly allow that objective to survive. A just society must find the guilty, but at the same time the guilt of the future must not be loaded with the guilt of the past.

There is another side to this history which I think has not gotten the attention it deserves. The exodus of the Kashmiri Pandit community is one of the darkest chapters in Kashmir’s history but the years that followed also saw the loss of thousands of ordinary Kashmiri Muslims to the same terrorism. Teachers, political workers, public servants, police personnel, village representatives, religious scholars and civilians who refused to submit to terrorist diktats were eliminated. Families of every faith buried their loved ones. They lived with fear and uncertainty for decades. Terrorism did not only target individuals. It was meant for the social fabric of Kashmir. But even in those hard years, people did not die out. There are several documented incidents of Muslim families providing shelter to their Kashmiri Pandit neighbours, safeguarding their homes after they left, guarding temples, and helping families escape safely when the situation deteriorated. In several Valley villages, neighbours continued to tend to each other’s properties for years, hoping that displacement would end someday. These stories might not have made the front pages, but they are a part of Kashmir’s collective memory just as important. I am a Kashmiri and I believe we should remember all our history. If we only remember the acts of hatred, and forget the acts of courage, compassion and solidarity we give future generations an incomplete picture. A terrorist wanted to divide communities who had lived together for centuries. Many ordinary Kashmiris, even as they lived under the shadow of violence, did not let that bond disappear altogether. Maybe that is why I consider the distinction of Lieutenant Governor so important. It does not wipe out the crimes committed on the Kashmiri Pandit community. It reminds us instead that those crimes were committed by terrorists, not every Kashmiri who shared the same land. The recognition of difference does not diminish the claim for justice. Rather it reinforces it by putting the responsibility where it belongs.

As a Kashmiri I do not want the history of 1990 to be reduced to denial or collective blame. The exodus of our Kashmiri Pandit brethren is a wound that continues to ache and deserves truth, justice and remembrance. The pain of thousands of common Kashmiris who fell prey to terrorism must also find its rightful place in our collective memory. A society is not healed by choosing the lesser pain, but by meeting each pain with honesty and care. The significance of Lt Governor Manoj Sinha’s statement for me is that it differentiates the guilty from the people. It reminds us that terrorists must be brought to justice for their crimes but we must not hold ordinary Kashmiris responsible for things they did not do or approve of. It is in the face of inherited or collective guilt that justice loses its moral force. Like many Kashmiris, I look forward to the day when our Kashmiri Pandit brethren return to the Valley, not as visitors but as neighbours. The temples resonating with prayers, the neighbourhoods celebrating festivals, the friendships that made generations, deserve to live again. Their return should not be understood as a government programme or an administrative objective. It should be viewed as the re-establishment of a connection that terrorism tried to erase, but failed.

Kashmir has always been more than the hatred imposed on it. If we are to be serious about building a peaceful and inclusive future, we must remember history honestly and hold the guilty accountable fairly, and welcome back those who’s absence has left our shared home incomplete. I think that would be the best tribute to justice and Kashmiriyat.

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