BITTER OR BUTTER TOAST: Why Kashmir’s Civil Society is Losing its Passionate Citizens as Members
The question is whether the groups will change, or whether they will continue to lose the very people they most need.
A. Ameen
Kashmir has no shortage of civil society groups. Walk through any town in the Valley and you will find organisations with grand names, impressive letterheads, and solemn declarations about serving the people. Yet beneath the surface of these well-intentioned pronouncements lies a troubling question: why are passionate, sincere individuals increasingly choosing to work alone rather than through these groups? The answer, uncomfortable as it may be, lies in a growing credibility gap between what these organisations claim to be and what they actually do.
The Apolitical Myth
Many civil society groups in Kashmir insist they are apolitical. Their brochures speak of social welfare, community service, and humanitarian concern. Yet their actions tell a different story. Their attendance at political gatherings, their writings infused with political commentary, and their selective engagement with issues reveal a different reality altogether. The claim of being apolitical has become a convenient shield—a way to appear neutral while operating firmly within political orbits.
This is not merely about perception. When groups that profess to be above politics are seen at political rallies or issuing statements that align conspicuously with one side of Kashmir’s political divide, trust erodes. Citizens are not naive. They notice the discrepancy between the declared mission and the demonstrated behaviour.
The Press Release Syndrome
Perhaps the most damning indictment of Kashmir’s civil society is what might be called the “press release syndrome.” A group identifies an issue, drafts a statement, sends it to a favoured newspaper, and considers its work done. No follow-up. No sustained engagement. No measurable impact. The cycle repeats when the next issue emerges, with misplaced priorities ensuring that the truly urgent concerns of ordinary Kashmiris receive little more than a fleeting mention.
This pattern is not merely ineffective—it is corrosive. When citizens see the same groups issuing statements year after year with nothing to show for it, they conclude that the exercise is performative rather than substantive. The secretary who makes a press release and considers the job finished is not practising activism; he is practising ritual.
Silence When It Matters Most
The test of any civil society organisation is not how it responds to comfortable issues but how it responds to uncomfortable ones. Consider the recent rape and murder of a 12-year-old girl in Budgam—a crime that “shattered something much larger” in Kashmir’s collective psyche. While some individuals and organisations did speak out, there was a notable hesitation from many groups that otherwise position themselves as defenders of rights and dignity.
Even when prompted, some organisations chose to debate and deliberate until the story lost its urgency and the moment for meaningful action had passed. This is not leadership; it is evasion. When civil society cannot muster unambiguous condemnation of a child’s brutal murder, what exactly is it there for?
The Retirement Industry
A striking feature of Kashmir’s civil society landscape is the proliferation of groups led by retired bureaucrats, police officers, and politicians. Mohalla committees, masjid committees, social trusts, and NGOs run by retirees have become ubiquitous. There is nothing inherently wrong with retired professionals contributing to society. Indeed, many bring valuable experience.
But the question that frequently arises, time and again —must be a fair one—is: “Why this activism now?” When these same individuals held positions of power and authority, what did they do? Some face stiff criticism for having dismissed the very concerns they now champion with such fervour. Environmentalists who were once treated with arrogance by those in power now find themselves listening to the same voices preaching ecological concern. The credibility gap here is vast and obvious.
The Currency of Convenience
Critics argue that many of these groups understand precisely “what sells.” They know which issues attract attention, which statements please which audiences, and how to remain relevant in Kashmir’s politically charged environment. The prefixes—President, Chairman, General Secretary—matter more than the work. The platform matters more than the purpose.
Some groups have become bridges to political relevance, a way for individuals to remain in the public eye long after their formal careers have ended. The concern is not that retired people serve society; it is that society is being served as a means to personal relevance rather than as an end in itself.
What Sincere Citizens See
Sincere individuals who wish to contribute are increasingly choosing to work outside formal structures. They observe. They assess. They evaluate. And too often, they conclude that the organisations bearing noble names are not serious about what they say.
This is a tragedy for Kashmir. The region faces real challenges—economic distress, social fragmentation, institutional weakness. It needs genuine civil society engagement. But when the organisations that claim to provide it are seen as self-serving, politically motivated, or simply ineffective, the entire sector suffers.
The fragmentation of charitable efforts, with multiple organisations working independently on the same issues while genuine cases remain unattended, has undermined public trust. This disorganisation has even opened the door for exploitation, with anti-social elements taking advantage of public sympathy to collect money without transparency or accountability.
A Way Forward
The solution is not to abandon civil society but to demand more from it. Citizens must hold these organisations accountable. Groups must demonstrate impact, not just intent. They must show continuity, not just press releases. They must speak clearly on uncomfortable issues, not just convenient ones. And they must be honest about their political engagements rather than hiding behind the apolitical label. Modern civil society suffers from a growing addiction to optics. Meetings are organised. Panels are constituted. Resolutions are passed. Photographs are circulated. Press statements are issued. Social media celebrates engagement. Everyone appears active, yet the issue itself often remains unchanged. Environmental degradation continues. Traffic worsens. Drug abuse expands. Public health challenges persist. Institutional dysfunction survives. The activity is visible. The impact is not. This is where ordinary citizens begin losing trust. They observe a recurring pattern: a concern is identified, a seminar is organised, experts speak, recommendations are made, and a press release follows.
“The public does not want silence; it demands consistency. Officers should apply the same passion to executing practical solutions as they do to criticizing or lecturing.”
Too often, there is little monitoring, follow-up, or measurable outcome. The concern ends where the seminar ends.
But it should not become a theatre of relevance. Society does not need more seminars that end in press releases. It needs initiatives that end in results. The public is not asking retired officers to remain silent. It is asking them to be consistent to bring the same passion to implementation that they bring to advocacy, to demonstrate through action what they now articulate through speeches, to convert experience into solutions rather than visibility. For ultimately, the measure of public service is neither the office one held nor the platform one occupies after retirement. It is whether one’s efforts leave society better than one found it. Everything else is optics.
Kashmir’s civil society has the potential to be a force for genuine good. I know many civil society groups, NGOs, societies, trusts are doing phenomenal service- example to follow. But that potential will remain unrealised as long as the gap between claim and practice remains so wide. Passionate citizens are leaving because they see through the pretence. The question is whether the groups will change, or whether they will continue to lose the very people they most need.
(The author is an apolitical civil society campaigner and a guest contributor who writes on public policy, governance, civil society, and social issues.)
