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Map of Asia |
CIAO DATE: 01/03
Kashmir: A Taste of Peace
Amb Schaffer
The South Asia Monitor
Number 25
September 1, 2000
Violence remains high in Kashmir, and ten years of insurgency have taken a terrible toll on the economy and on ordinary people’s lives. Two initiatives in the past few months may have started building a political foundation for peace in Kashmir. In June, the Kashmir State Assembly requested the Indian government to restore Kashmir’s pre-1953 autonomy. In July, the Indian government and one of the militant groups declared a temporary ceasefire to permit talks. Both efforts fell apart quickly, but for the first time they generated stirrings of hope and creativity in Kashmir, as well as in India and Pakistan. If efforts at another peace initiative bear fruit, the process is sure to be difficult and crisis-ridden, but the past two months’ experience may teach the participants something about how to get discussions started.
Violence and alienation: The pace of violence has remained high in Kashmir. Artillery shelling occurs almost daily between Indian and Pakistani forces. Within the valley of Kashmir, militant groups stepped up their attacks on military, paramilitary and police targets after last year’s fighting in the Kargil sector. In March, just as President Clinton was starting his state visit to India, 36 Sikhs were killed in a village named Chattisinghpura. The Indian Government blamed the attack on Pakistani-backed militants; the Pakistan government and many Kashmiris blamed Indian intelligence. Indian government figures reported in the press claim that the army killed 1000 “militants” between January and mid-August 2000, up 31 percent from last year. The number of Indian troops killed in Kashmir during the same period was reported as 263, a 38% increase from last year.
Looking back on the ten years of militancy, people from the valley speak of a “lost generation.” Strikes and security roundups have disrupted daily life and education, and regular arrests of young men create an atmosphere where no one feels secure. The tourist industry has disappeared for the time being, and much of the handicrafts industry has moved outside the state, at least temporarily. Agricultural production continues, subject to the disruptions of the security situation. No investment has taken place during this time. Add to this gloomy picture a dysfunctional state government mired in rumors of corruption. The resulting economic depression deepens the already profound alienation of Kashmiris from India.
The autonomy move: The Chief Minister of the parts of Kashmir under Indian administration, Farooq Abdullah, whose late father was the dominant political leader of Kashmir for decades, cast his lot years ago with the Indian government. His reputation for leadership in Kashmir is at best shaky. He owes his present position partly to the bargain he struck with the Indian government, and partly to divisions in the militant movement and the militants’ unwillingness to participate in what they believe are rigged elections.
In June, Farooq Abdullah backed a move in the Kashmir State Assembly to petition the central government in New Delhi to restore the state’s pre-1953 autonomy, and apparent attempt to restore his leadership credentials. After brief deliberations, the Indian cabinet rejected the petition without submitting it for debate in parliament. They argued that such a sweeping restoration of autonomy would sweep away decades of intervening legislation applicable to Kashmir. Prime Minister Vajpayee undoubtedly faced strong pressure from the right wing of his own party not to give any encouragement to the Kashmiris. Nonetheless, the flat rejection was unfortunate, and left the impression that the Indian government had nothing to offer the Kashmiris, despite its earlier statements that all options were open except secession.
Talking to the militants: Meanwhile, a number of back channels were carrying communications between the Kashmiri movement and the Indian government. This effort focused on a group called Hizbul Mujahideen, most of whose adherents were Kashmiris rather than “guest fighters” from other Muslim countries, and which also has links with the Pakistani political party Jamaat-e-Islami.
On July 24, the operational chief of the Hizbul Mujahideen, Abdul Majid Dar, announced a unilateral ceasefire for three months in Srinagar in Indian-administered Kashmir. The move was confirmed the next day by the group’s Pakistan-based commander, Syed Salahuddin. Talks between the Hizb and the Indian government were set in motion on August 1.
From the start, the agreement was threatened by two issues. The first was whether the talks were taking place “within the Indian constitution,” i.e. whether they assumed continuing Indian sovereignty over Kashmir. Senior Indian officials had initially been silent on the issue, and the Kashmiris had been heartened by Prime Minister Vajpayee’s statement that the guideline would be “humanity”. However, National Security adviser Brajesh Mishra then remarked that no government officials could act outside the Constitution, and Prime Minister Vajpayee told parliament that while talks were unconditional, any deal would be bound by the Indian constitution. The Hizb read these statements as violating their earlier understanding, and demanded that the government come out with a “fresh and unequivocal” commitment to an unconditional dialogue.
The second issue was whether Pakistan would be part of the process. In the past, India had never included Pakistan directly in its talks with Kashmiris. But as the carefully constructed ambiguities on the “constitution” issue came apart, increasingly pointed statements from Hizbul Mujahideen leaders based in Pakistan insisted that the talks be “tripartite.” The Pakistan government’s initial public position was that it would wait to see what the Hizbul Mujahideen could work out. Clearly, however, this public exclusion posed a fundamental challenge to Pakistan’s standing in the Kashmir issue, a critical policy point and one of the few that unites Pakistanis.
Meanwhile, violence flared in Kashmir, notably with the murder of some 100 people, most of them Hindu pilgrims. Once again, the Indian government blamed a rival militant group, but Pakistan and many Kashmiris fingered Indian intelligence – especially after five “suspects” killed by Indian security forces turned out to be local youths unconnected with the killings.
In the end, the Hizb set an August 8 deadline for resolving the issues of the Indian constitution and Pakistani participation. With so much public controversy, the veiled phrases India tried to put forward on the constitution were not able to bridge the gap, and the Hizb announced the end of the ceasefire. On August 10, the Hizb struck in downtown Srinagar, throwing a grenade into a bank where it said security forces came to cash paychecks, and then detonating a car bomb when the police had gathered to respond to the grenade.
Picking up the pieces: The collapse of the ceasefire is not surprising. The fractured Kashmiri political scene, Pakistan’s probably conflicting views on the whole enterprise, and the difficulty the Indians were having in holding to their talking points all put it under pressure. But the hopes that were evident in India and Kashmir, and in some quarters in Pakistan, were striking. In midst of the terrorist attacks during the ceasefire, Prime Minister Vajpayee said, “The path we are following in Jammu and Kashmir is one of peace and we will not leave it.” A prominent separatist leader, Shabir Shah, said the start of talks between home ministry officials and Hizbul Mujahideen leaders was a healthy sign and a good beginning. The All Parties Hurriyat Conference (APHC), an umbrella organisation of Kashmiri political parties, complained that the Hizb had acted naively and without full consultations, but also welcomed the government’s invitation to talks, and said that if Delhi’s offer were realised, there was now hope of a permanent settlement to the crisis.
In India, commentators named Pakistan as the villain behind the breakdown of talks. There has been some effort to maintain communication with the Hizbul Mujahideen, however, and the government is clearly more open to dialogue with Kashmiri groups than it has been in the past. This reflects in part their recognition that Chief Minister Farooq Abdullah, whom they had seen as a pliable instrument, cannot exercise the leadership needed to keep Kashmir quiet.
In Pakistan, the reaction was mixed. The Jamaat-e-Islami and some commentators saw the whole enterprise as an Indian ploy to divide the Kashmiris and marginalize Pakistan. Others, however, hailed the original ceasefire effort as a welcome attempt to infuse some momentum into the Kashmir problem. When the ceasefire broke down, all were quick to blame Indian intransigence.
Within the Kashmiri community, despite bitter recriminations over Indian intransigence, there seems to be widespread sentiment in favor of trying again, and satisfaction that Kashmiris were at the center of this process. Proponents of talks have vowed fuller consultation within the Kashmiri community. The All Parties Hurriyet Conference is divided, with the newly designated leader putting forward a proposal for parallel talks between itself and India and Pakistan.
Learning from experience: This ceasefire was the first serious effort in ten years to break through the taboos that have prevented progress on the governance of Kashmir. It was also the first time a Kashmiri group had put itself in the driver’s seat.
They need to try again. India’s periodic efforts to handle Kashmir simply as a law and order problem will only feed the insurgency. And unless the basic political issues are addressed, each new surge in violence is likely to be worse than the last, even if there are intermittent periods of quiet. The chances of success will improve if everyone involved absorbs some basic lessons from the last experience.
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