Jono Maryono
Muzaffarabad, Pakistan-administered Kashmir – The precarious journey to save his brother’s life remains etched in Zaheer Iqbal’s memory, a stark testament to the daily struggles amplified by the ongoing unrest in Pakistan-administered Kashmir. Iqbal, a construction laborer from the remote hilltop village of Keri Kot, recounts the precise fuel quantities – 2.5 liters for the arduous hour-long drive to the government hospital in Hajira, over 10 kilometers away, and an additional five liters, a precious commodity brought by a cousin from Kotli city, more than 60 kilometers distant, to ensure the continued journey to Islamabad, the nation’s capital. This harrowing ordeal, which unfolded in the dead of night in mid-June, began when his elder brother collapsed with severe chest pain.
The lack of a readily available ambulance service to Keri Kot, a village where residents predominantly rely on motorcycles or their own two feet for transportation, necessitated a desperate measure. Iqbal, along with his two sons and other relatives, carried his ailing brother on a makeshift bed for a considerable distance until they reached the nearest motorable road. “We put him on a bed and took him on our shoulders and walked a long way to the road connecting to the city,” Iqbal, 45, recalled. It was only through the kindness of a friend and the communal act of siphoning petrol from neighbors’ motorcycles that they managed to gather enough fuel for the initial trip to Hajira.
At the government hospital in Hajira, the limited medical staff could only offer stabilization. Doctors informed the family that an immediate transfer to a larger facility was imperative, ideally in Islamabad, approximately 140 kilometers away, a journey typically spanning nearly four hours. This meant another plea for assistance, the sourcing of another vehicle, and yet another desperate hunt for fuel before Iqbal could finally reach a government hospital in Islamabad, where his brother received the necessary treatment and is now recuperating.
Iqbal’s experience is not an isolated incident; it is a microcosm of the profound disruption that has gripped Pakistan-administered Kashmir, formally known as Azad Jammu and Kashmir (AJK), and particularly its Poonch Division, for the past six weeks. The region has been reeling under a wave of protests, strikes, and debilitating mobile and internet shutdowns, casting a long shadow over the lives of its residents.
The genesis of this widespread unrest can be traced back to June, when authorities banned the Joint Awami Action Committee (JAAC), a powerful coalition that had coalesced to voice a range of grievances, prominently demanding the abolition of 12 legislative assembly seats reserved for Kashmiri refugees. This ban ignited a firestorm of dissent, leading to weeks of sustained strikes, sit-ins, and often violent clashes. The ensuing confrontations have resulted in dozens of fatalities, claiming the lives of both protesters and law enforcement personnel, a grim prelude to the phased legislative assembly elections, originally slated to commence on July 27.
However, for a significant portion of the population in Poonch Division, a region that shares a border with India, and its neighboring areas, the defining characteristic of the past month has not been the impending election or the ongoing protests. Instead, it has been the pervasive and crippling disruption to their everyday lives, primarily caused by an intricate web of roadblocks and a prolonged, enforced digital silence.
A Digital Silence Descends
Since June 5, mobile data and broadband services across AJK have been suspended, plunging the region into an unprecedented information vacuum. While Iqbal, in his village of Hajira, noted that the impact of the shutdown was less severe on his immediate livelihood due to limited business activity, he acknowledged its devastating consequences for others. "This is one thing which impacts less than cities," he stated. "But for those who rely on it, especially students and businesses, this has impacted people a lot more." His own survival has been bolstered by remittances from relatives abroad and in Islamabad, a lifeline that has kept his family afloat amidst the economic downturn triggered by the protests.
In the adjacent Sudhnoti district, Malik Niaz Ahmed, president of the local traders’ association, echoed similar sentiments. He highlighted the disproportionate impact on students, alongside severe shortages of government-subsidized wheat. The road closures, a direct consequence of the unrest, have crippled supply chains. "The June allocation [of wheat] was never fulfilled," Ahmed lamented, attributing the shortfall to the persistent blockades. Traders have been compelled to procure flour at market rates, approximately 6,000 Pakistani rupees ($21.60) per maund (about 37kg), a steep increase from the subsidized rate of 2,200 rupees ($8) promised to residents. His union council alone serves a combined rural and urban population of around 100,000 people, all of whom have been affected by these shortages.
Further north, approximately 8 kilometers from Sudhnoti, in the Pallandari area of Poonch, Masood Khan, the principal of the local postgraduate college, painted a similarly bleak picture. He described hardships compounded by a crisis directly impacting his students. "The internet closure remains the single biggest obstacle to doing anything," Khan stated emphatically. "Even the regular mobile network keeps failing. Calls end abruptly, or the voice quality is so poor you can barely follow." During a conversation with Al Jazeera, Khan’s phone call dropped an astonishing four times, illustrating the unreliability of communication infrastructure.
Khan, a veteran educator with three decades of teaching experience and six months at the helm of the college, has witnessed firsthand the cascading effects of the unrest. Public transport has become prohibitively expensive, and securing essential groceries has become a daily challenge. "Pulses, bread, eggs, vegetables, all of it is available, but in short supply," he observed. "We often have to queue or pay extra." The educational toll has been particularly severe. His students were in the midst of their crucial entrance examinations for medical colleges across Pakistan when authorities postponed the remaining three papers due to the pervasive disruption. More than six weeks later, the exams remain unscheduled. "No exam means no result, which means no admission," Khan lamented, forecasting a potentially lost academic year for an entire generation of students.
Poonch Division, the epicenter of the protests, has endured weeks of demonstrations despite challenging weather conditions, including heavy rainfall. Government officials maintain that the number of protesters at various sit-in sites has dwindled, but acknowledge that crowds have yet to fully disperse. They claim that access to certain parts of the division remains restricted by JAAC activists.
Fading Sympathy and Economic Fallout
Approximately 150 kilometers north of Rawalakot, the largest city in Poonch Division, lies Muzaffarabad, the capital of Pakistan-administered Kashmir. Here, the disruptions stemming from the protests and the internet shutdown have manifested in different, and at times, unexpectedly personal ways.
Usman Gul, a 35-year-old lawyer, found his wedding reception, planned for June 9, overshadowed by the JAAC’s announcement of a long march towards Muzaffarabad on the same day. "It was such a bizarre feeling," he shared with Al Jazeera, "that despite having two bank accounts, having a significant amount of money there, I was, for all practical purposes, poor." The internet shutdown rendered banks and ATMs inoperable, and electronic money transfers impossible. Gul was forced to borrow cash from friends to settle payments with vendors and cover wedding-related expenses. Other vendors, citing road closures and ongoing unrest, were unable to guarantee their services, leaving Gul with no choice but to postpone his reception. "On one hand, government encourages businesses, offices, traders to deploy cashless technologies," he remarked, "But when it comes to reality on the ground, the only tool they have is to close down the internet, regardless of how badly it impacts the public."
Malik Dawood, owner of a printing business in Muzaffarabad, described his enterprise as having "completely collapsed" since June 5, the date of the last outgoing message from his shop’s WhatsApp account. His staff are now compelled to undertake two-hour journeys outside the city simply to find a mobile signal, enabling them to contact clients and suppliers. Dawood estimates the shutdown has cost his business between 15 million and 20 million Pakistani rupees ($54,000 to $72,000) during what is typically his busiest period, fueled by election-related advertising and printing demands. "They have the technology to limit the shutdown to specific areas," he argued, referring to the government. "Why should the whole of AJK suffer for something involving a few thousand people in one or two districts?"
This pervasive frustration, however, has not translated into widespread support for JAAC in Muzaffarabad. Dawood recalled that traders had strongly backed the movement when it initially emerged in 2023, focusing on issues of wheat and electricity prices. He believes that support has "faded gradually" since the movement broadened its demands to include the contentious issue of reserved seats for refugees. Dawood views this as a constitutional matter best addressed by parliament, not through street protests. "Why protest over something like that and expect it to be resolved on the road?" he questioned.
Salma Ahmed, a 34-year-old mother of two and a salon owner in Muzaffarabad, has also experienced a significant blow to her business due to the internet shutdown. She has been unable to print marketing materials and banners, and potential staff from Islamabad have declined to travel due to the prevailing unrest. Ahmed observed that public support for JAAC’s earlier demands was strong because they offered tangible relief, such as cheaper wheat and lower electricity bills. However, the dispute over reserved seats has failed to capture the public’s imagination. "That issue really doesn’t concern us," she stated. "It has nothing to do with our daily lives or needs. It should be resolved constitutionally, not on the road."
Conflicting Realities and a Divided Electorate
Government officials, meanwhile, maintain that life has largely returned to normal across most of the region. Deputy Commissioner Munir Qureshi informed Al Jazeera that internet access has been retained at a limited number of locations, including banks, and that road closures are confined to specific areas within Poonch Division. He asserted that movement in Muzaffarabad and Mirpur divisions remains unrestricted, and election campaigning is proceeding as planned.
This official narrative sharply contrasts with the experiences of residents in Poonch and Sudhnoti, who report an indiscriminate internet shutdown, unreliable mobile networks that struggle to sustain basic calls, and, as in Iqbal’s case, fuel shortages that nearly proved fatal.
For Zaheer Iqbal, the ordeal has irrevocably altered his perspective on the upcoming electoral process. He has decided against voting in the election, now scheduled for August 10 in Poonch Division. "This time, if we vote, we’d be voting for people who are brutalising us," he declared, referring to the clashes between security forces and protesters.
Malik Dawood, the businessman in Muzaffarabad, holds a different view. "I will certainly be voting," he stated. "I wish JAAC’s supporters also recognised that the solution to these problems lies through parliament, not through blockades."
For Salma Ahmed, the election has become almost secondary to the immediate and pressing impact of the prolonged internet closure. "This prolonged internet closure is affecting me every single day," she emphasized. "How long can this go on? Why make us suffer for it?"
The question of accountability weighs heavily on Masood Khan, the educator who foresees an entire cohort of students losing a crucial academic year. "Who will be held responsible for that?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. "Who even thinks about the future of these children?" The ongoing unrest and its attendant disruptions have exposed deep fissures in the region, raising profound questions about governance, citizen welfare, and the future trajectory of Pakistan-administered Kashmir.
