Kashmir and the spectacle of manufactured crises

It was an old script, dusted off and recycled with all the subtlety of a Bollywood B-movie plot: an attack on tourists in Pahalgam, Kashmir—tragic, condemnable, and as predictable as New Delhi’s response. Within hours, India’s government, with its reflexes honed more for propaganda than forensics, pointed a convenient finger at Pakistan. No evidence necessary. No investigation needed. Pakistan, they declared, was the mastermind behind the attack—once again cast as the perennial villain in the feverish imagination of the Indian state.

But let us pause the theatre of the absurd and ask: is this really about tourists? Or is it yet another episode in a decades-long tragicomedy, where Kashmiris are the unacknowledged protagonists, and the world looks away as the two nuclear-armed neighbors play out their rivalry on the bones of a betrayed land?

India’s narrative is as old as it is tired. According to Delhi, no Kashmiri could possibly resist Indian occupation unless manipulated by Islamabad. Every protest, every stone thrown, every cry for justice is attributed not to lived experience but to cross-border mischief. In this vision, Kashmiri agency vanishes into the misty mountains—replaced by Pakistani puppetry. It’s a lazy narrative, and like all lazy narratives, it serves power beautifully.

Of course, New Delhi has long insisted that Pakistan breeds and exports jihadists like a cottage industry with government subsidies. Militants, they say, are packaged, blessed, and dispatched to attack Hindus and Indian forces alike in the valley. But this myopic fixation on Pakistani interference erases a fundamental truth: the resistance in Kashmir is indigenous, born of humiliation, violence, and the unfulfilled promise of self-determination.

Beyond the headlines: Exposing the machinery of Indian propaganda

The defining moment came in 1989, when Kashmiris, weary of India’s iron grip, erupted in a mass uprising. It wasn’t Pakistan that lit that fire. It was Indian repression, systemic disenfranchisement, and the daily violence that punctuated Kashmiri life. India responded not with dialogue, but with military escalation. The world looked away as thousands were killed, raped, tortured—many simply “disappeared” into the black hole of occupation. The valley became a graveyard not just of lives, but of international law, human rights, and broken UN promises.

And speaking of broken promises, let us not forget Article 370—the so-called special autonomous status of Kashmir. Once a fig leaf for democratic pretense, it was unceremoniously scrapped by the Modi regime in 2019, effectively annulling even the illusion of Kashmiri autonomy. With one stroke of bureaucratic penmanship, New Delhi declared that Kashmiris no longer had any say in their political destiny. The plebiscite once promised by the United Nations? It now resides in the dustbin of diplomatic memory, alongside such quaint notions as “international consensus” and “moral responsibility.”

In light of all this, the timing of the recent Pahalgam attack has prompted many a raised eyebrow among serious analysts. It’s almost too convenient, the way this tragedy aligns with broader geopolitical currents. One might even suspect that someone, somewhere, wanted a dramatic pretext. After all, nothing galvanizes hyper-nationalism like a well-timed tragedy. And in the age of algorithmic outrage and 24-hour media hysteria, a few bodies are often enough to rewrite the headlines and reshape public opinion.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the border, the Pakistani military leadership has its own set of embarrassments. The once-hailed China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC), touted as the gateway to prosperity, has devolved into a geopolitical headache. With Chinese workers targeted by attacks, and Beijing reportedly growing weary of Islamabad’s inability to secure its investments, the generals are now reduced to polite begging. “Please continue the investments,” they say to their Chinese patrons, even as the country sinks into political and economic chaos.

It doesn’t help that Pakistan’s ruling junta—because let’s call it what it is—has entirely lost credibility. It governs through fear, fraud, and force, repressing the most popular political movement in the country, the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI), led by the charismatic, imprisoned former Prime Minister Imran Khan. Once seen as a political phoenix, Khan now rots in a dungeon alongside thousands of political prisoners—guilty, apparently, of the grave crime of not toeing the military’s preferred line.

Yet, amid this domestic fiasco, the generals find time to serve Washington’s strategic whims. In the grand ‘New Cold War’ chessboard being set up against China, Pakistan has become the pawn that doesn’t even pretend to be a rook. It dutifully obeys the dictates of its Western overlords but is rebuked for not obeying them hard enough. Gwadar port, a critical node in China’s Belt and Road vision, is reportedly too ambitious for America’s taste. And so, the sabotage begins—cloaked in whispers, intelligence operations, and the ever-helpful triple alliance of Mossad, CIA, and RAW.

Yes, Kashmiri activists have long alleged that this trinity operates openly in their homeland—not even bothering with subtlety anymore. Their presence is felt in surveillance, subversion, and in the inexplicable string of events that always seem to benefit global hegemonic interests. That such allegations are dismissed by the mainstream media as conspiracy theories says more about the media than it does about their veracity.

Then comes the cherry on this blood-soaked cake: the visit of U.S. Vice-President J.D. Vance to India—right as tensions peaked. One can only marvel at the timing. It’s as if the empire likes to be present when the kindling is lit, just to make sure the fire starts properly.

And what about the Indian state’s own behavior in Kashmir? Far from acting as a democratic steward, it has gone full totalitarian. Tens of thousands have been arrested. Homes demolished. Dissent criminalized. Surveillance intensified. The Valley has become an Orwellian nightmare, where silence is survival, and speech is sedition.

READ: India, Pakistan take reciprocal measures as tensions escalate after Kashmir attack

In the midst of this, parallels between Zionist ideology and Hindutva fascism become too glaring to ignore. Both are supremacist ideologies fueled by historical grievance and modern state violence. Both use collective punishment as a political tool. Both present themselves as eternal victims even while acting as ruthless aggressors. And both enjoy the unwavering support of the American empire.

Which brings us full circle. The spectacle of Kashmir is not just a regional conflict. It is a nexus of military adventurism, geopolitical ambition, and nationalist delusion. It is where the dreams of empire intersect with the nightmares of the oppressed.

And so the farce drags on—predictable as a soap opera and just as manipulative. Another tragedy cues another round of sanctimonious speeches, staged condemnations, and strategic handshakes with foreign dignitaries whose only allegiance is to the choreography of empire. Meanwhile, the Kashmiri cry for justice ricochets through the mountains, reduced to background noise in the geopolitical theatre of the absurd.

But make no mistake: this isn’t a conflict—it’s a spectacle. One where Delhi dons the costume of civilization while bulldozing homes, and Islamabad polishes its victimhood medals while muzzling dissent and kneeling before foreign masters. Kashmir, in this grotesque pageant, is not a land of people—it is a chessboard, a bargaining chip, a pretext.

The tragedy is not just the violence—it’s the insult to intelligence. That we are meant to forget history, overlook occupation, and believe in the bedtime stories spun by two deeply compromised states. That we are supposed to cheer for one side while both trample the truth.

But fairy tales don’t last forever. The day will come—perhaps not soon, but inevitably—when the survivors will seize the pen from the pretenders and write history not in the language of power, but in the vocabulary of resistance. And on that day, neither Delhi’s jackboots nor Islamabad’s begging bowls will be spared scrutiny. Until then, let the record show: the world watched, and the world lied.

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.