The recent massacre in Pahalgam has pierced the collective conscience of South Asia, leaving behind a trail of grief, confusion, and uncomfortable questions. Over two dozen civilians, many of them tourists, were killed in what should have been one of the most secure and scenic parts of Indian-occupied Kashmir. Amid a heavily militarized region blanketed with surveillance systems, checkpoints, and constant patrolling by Indian security forces, the notion that seven armed attackers could execute such a brazen act and vanish without a trace defies logic – and demands scrutiny.
The Kashmir Valley, particularly districts like Anantnag, functions as a fortress under the constant gaze of military, paramilitary, and intelligence apparatuses. Given this reality, the attack is more than a catastrophic failure of security – it raises serious doubts about the credibility of the official narrative. How could such an operation unfold in an environment under 24/7 surveillance? How could the attackers have moved, targeted, and escaped so cleanly?
In the immediate aftermath of the killings, accusations were hurled across the border, with Pakistan once again placed in the dock without evidence. Within hours, diplomatic ties were strained, trade agreements suspended, and the rhetoric of revenge dominated headlines. The script feels all too familiar – from Uri in 2016 to Pulwama in 2019 – when crises were swiftly politicized, conveniently distracting from pressing domestic issues like inflation, unemployment, and rising dissent.
Adding to the skepticism is the highly curated narrative surrounding the attack. Eyewitness accounts reported in the Indian media suggest that the assailants specifically targeted non-Muslims, demanded religious recitations, and identified victims based on faith. But these reports, repeated without independent verification, align too neatly with a long-running stereotype of Islamist terror – fueling suspicions that the narrative may be less about truth and more about perception management. Has this incident, like others before it, been framed to fit a political agenda?
Kashmiris, who have endured decades of occupation, surveillance, and systemic rights violations, are all too familiar with the consequences of such narratives. Following the massacre, the region witnessed a fresh wave of arrests, internet shutdowns, and intensified military crackdowns. Far from addressing the roots of violence, these measures deepen the alienation and disillusionment of a population that has long lived under siege. What remains conspicuously absent is any call for an independent, international investigation – something that could provide credibility and clarity, yet is consistently resisted by the Indian government.
Pakistan, on its part, has strongly denied any involvement and called for transparency, arguing that at a time when it is focused on economic recovery and global reengagement, instigating regional instability would be self-defeating. Yet, the incident is already being used to isolate Islamabad diplomatically and to justify continued repression in Kashmir – framed as a necessary response to manufactured threats.
In today’s world of optics and orchestrated narratives, the Pahalgam massacre is more than a horrifying tragedy – it is a textbook case of how human suffering can be spun into strategic advantage. The silence of the international community only reinforces this dangerous trend, emboldening those who exploit violence for power.
As scholars, journalists, and defenders of truth, we have a duty not just to mourn the victims but to interrogate the storylines being woven around them. We must resist the urge to accept convenient conclusions and instead pursue the hard, often uncomfortable questions. Because if we don’t, the next Pahalgam may not just be a possibility – it may already be underway.