DATELINE: Kashmir’s Rulers, Lost Opportunities and the Perils of Political Complacency
When rulers become absorbed in their own priorities while the people struggle with theirs, history does not necessarily repeat itself; it finds new ways of delivering the same warning.
Peerzada Masarat Shah
History is rarely a mere chronicle of the past. It is often a warning to those who govern in the present. Kashmir, whose political destiny has repeatedly been shaped by the ambitions of external powers and the failures of its own rulers, offers several lessons in this regard. The fall of the Chak dynasty in the sixteenth century remains one such episode, not simply because Kashmir lost its independent political existence, but because internal disunity, administrative negligence and the failure of leadership weakened its capacity to withstand external intervention.
Sultan Yousuf Shah Chak, remembered as much for his association with the celebrated poetess Habba Khatoon as for his reign, presided over Kashmir during a period of mounting political uncertainty. His fondness for poetry, music and pleasure has been immortalised in Kashmiri folklore. Yet the political circumstances of his reign were considerably more complicated than the popular romantic narrative suggests. Court intrigues, competing noble factions, administrative instability and Mughal expansionism steadily eroded the strength of the Chak state. When Emperor Akbar summoned Yousuf Shah to his court in 1586, assurances of safe conduct notwithstanding, the Sultan was detained and eventually exiled to Bihar. His son, Yaqub Shah, failed to reverse the deteriorating political fortunes of the kingdom. Mughal intervention culminated in the annexation of Kashmir in 1586.
The subsequent accounts of religious scholars, including Sheikh Yaqub Sarfi and Baba Dawood Khaki, approaching Akbar amid the political turmoil reflect the complicated relationship between internal dissent and external intervention. Whether every condition attributed to their delegation can be established as a formal treaty is a matter of historical debate. Nevertheless, the episode raises an enduring question: when indigenous leadership loses public confidence and fails to protect its political institutions, who eventually fills the vacuum?
More than four centuries later, Jammu and Kashmir appears to be confronting a different political crisis, albeit under an entirely different constitutional and historical setting. The comparison is not intended to equate the Chak monarchy with an elected government, or Mughal conquest with contemporary constitutional arrangements. It is about a recurring failure of political leadership: the inability to recognise the gravity of a moment and act in accordance with the expectations of the people.
Following the abrogation of Article 370 and the reorganisation of the erstwhile state in August 2019, Jammu and Kashmir was reduced from an autonomous state to a Union Territory, with its constitutional and political position fundamentally altered. The people subsequently exercised their democratic choice and entrusted Omar Abdullah with a decisive mandate in October 2024. That mandate was not merely an endorsement of a political party or an individual. It represented an expression of hope, a demand for restoration of dignity, political empowerment, statehood and a government capable of confronting the extraordinary challenges confronting the region.
Two years into office, however, the gap between electoral expectations and governmental performance has become increasingly difficult to overlook. Unemployment continues to haunt the educated youth. Concerns surrounding recruitment, reservation and the shrinking share of open-merit opportunities have generated considerable anxiety. Economic sluggishness, inadequate infrastructure, fragile connectivity and the uncertain future of traditional economic sectors have compounded public disillusionment. Electricity tariffs have become increasingly burdensome, while the availability and quality of supply remain a persistent concern. Daily wagers, casual labourers and other categories of government employees continue to await justice despite the expectations raised during the electoral campaign.
These are not peripheral administrative inconveniences. They are fundamental questions of economic security, social justice and public confidence. A government elected on promises of change must demonstrate that it can translate political assurances into measurable outcomes.
The constitutional limitations of a Union Territory government are undeniable. The absence of full statehood, the distribution of powers between the elected government and the Lieutenant Governor, and the continuing influence of the Union Government impose genuine constraints. But constitutional limitations cannot become a permanent explanation for administrative inertia or political underperformance. Where authority is restricted, leadership must become more persuasive, strategic and determined. It must negotiate, build consensus and use every available constitutional instrument to secure public interests.
Equally disturbing is the growing disquiet within the ruling National Conference itself. The recent cabinet reshuffle, instead of consolidating the government’s political standing, has reportedly aggravated resentment among several legislators. Meetings, collective representations and expressions of dissatisfaction indicate a deeper problem of consultation, institutional functioning and internal democracy. A government already struggling to meet public expectations can ill afford to create another crisis within its own political ranks. Legislators are not ornamental constituents of a parliamentary system; they are elected representatives whose political legitimacy derives directly from the people.
At a time when the government required undivided attention to these pressing concerns, the Chief Minister’s second marriage in New Delhi has inevitably attracted public attention. Marriage is a personal choice and deserves respect. There is nothing objectionable about an individual beginning a new chapter in his personal life. The legitimate question, however, concerns political priorities and public perception. Personal milestones cannot substitute for public accountability, nor can the symbolism of a celebratory occasion obscure the mounting expectations of a population awaiting governance, employment, economic relief and political restoration.
The irony is that the people who voted for Omar Abdullah expected him to stand firmly for their political and constitutional aspirations, particularly before those who presided over the loss of Jammu and Kashmir’s special status. Instead, many increasingly perceive a government preoccupied with political accommodation, internal management and survival, rather than a sustained programme of public delivery.
New Delhi, meanwhile, has little reason to disregard the political consequences of this growing disconnect. History demonstrates that whenever Kashmir’s indigenous political leadership becomes divided, loses credibility or fails to articulate the aspirations of its people, external forces acquire greater room to shape the region’s political future. That does not mean history must repeat itself, but it certainly demands that its lessons not be ignored.
Kashmir has paid an enormous price for the misjudgements of its rulers. Its people cannot afford another generation of squandered political opportunities. The present leadership must understand that an electoral mandate is neither a personal inheritance nor an unconditional licence to govern. It is a public trust, renewed only through performance, accountability and fidelity to the promises on which it was secured.
The real danger for Omar Abdullah is not merely growing dissent within his party or criticism from political opponents. It is the gradual erosion of public faith. Once that confidence is lost, political recovery becomes considerably more difficult.
Yousuf Shah Chak lost his kingdom in an age of monarchs and imperial conquest. Today’s elected leadership operates in a democratic constitutional order, where accountability rests with the electorate. The circumstances are different, but the lesson remains remarkably relevant: when rulers become absorbed in their own priorities while the people struggle with theirs, history does not necessarily repeat itself; it finds new ways of delivering the same warning.
(STRAIGHT TALK COMMUNICATIONS EXCLUSIVE)
(Disclaimer: The views are of the author and not of the Straight Talk Communications)
