From ‘badge of resistance’ to burden: How militancy lost its social currency in Kashmir

In the early years of the insurgency in1990’s and again during the surge in local recruitment in the mid-2010s, being related to a militant was, in certain pockets of Kashmir, spoken of with a degree of pride.

A brother in the ranks, a cousin or friend “in the mountains” was, for some, framed as a symbol of defiance.

The imagery reached its digital peak around Burhan Wani, whose social media posts as a commander of Hizbul Mujahideen gave militancy a new-age visibility. His killing in July 2016 triggered months of unrest, and at the time, funerals and online posts reflected open admiration among sections of youth.

Nearly a decade later, that social currency has all but collapsed.

A combination of sustained security operations, legal action against alleged overground networks, and administrative measures targeting families of militants has fundamentally altered incentives.

Since 2019, the Jammu and Kashmir administration has terminated dozens of government employees accused of militant links under Article 311(2)(c) of the Constitution, which allows dismissal without a formal inquiry in the interest of national security.

Police verification processes for passports and government jobs have also tightened. Adverse reports — including those citing militant family backgrounds — have, in several cases, led to denial of travel documents or employment clearances. In a region where government jobs and overseas work are key aspirations, the economic consequences are significant.

“Earlier, some families would not hide it. There was a sense of sacrifice attached to it,” said a senior academic at the University of Kashmir, requesting anonymity. “Now, even distant association becomes a source of anxiety. It can affect a sibling’s career, a passport, even marriage prospects.”

He said the shift is both social and strategic. “The ecosystem that sustained militancy thrived on local legitimacy. Once that legitimacy weakens — because of enforcement, awareness, or changing aspirations — recruitment automatically declines,” the professor said. “Today, families are more concerned about their children’s future than about slogans.”

The digital sphere mirrors the change. Social media platforms that once amplified militant imagery are now closely monitored. Police have booked individuals for allegedly glorifying militants online, and cyber units routinely issue warnings against sharing such content.

In everyday online spats, the shift is even more visible. Accusations of having a “militant past” or belonging to a “militant family” are increasingly hurled as insults — a reversal of the symbolism that once existed in certain circles.

Simultaneously, overt expressions of nationalism have become more visible. Young Kashmiris post photographs with the tricolour, celebrate national events online, and publicly associate themselves with competitive exam successes, government recruitments and central schemes.

“It’s not just fear of law; it’s also about opportunity,” said a Srinagar-based entrepreneur in his late 20s. “If you want to travel, build a business, or get a government job, you can’t afford baggage. People are practical now.”

Security data over recent years show a marked sharp decline in local militant recruitment compared to the late-2010s peak, though sporadic violence continues. Analysts say prolonged conflict fatigue, economic pressures and administrative crackdowns have reshaped public behaviour.

The transformation is telling: what was once, for some, projected as a badge of resistance has become a professional and social liability. In today’s Kashmir, upward mobility — not armed rebellion — increasingly defines aspiration.