Why Delhi Still Misreads What Ladakh Wants

In 1994-95, Prime Minister PV Narasimha Rao invited late Balraj Puri, public intellectual and an expert on Jammu and Kashmir, to seek his views on the border state at a time when militancy was ravaging the state. During their discussions, Puri pointed out that the newly created Ladakh Autonomous Hill Development Council (LAHDC) applied only to Leh district, and that this would have negative repercussions on the country. The Prime Minister, taken aback, remarked that he had assumed the LAHDC covered the entire Ladakh region, including Kargil. He immediately turned to his officials, who confirmed that Puri was correct.

This brief exchange vividly illustrates the extent of ignorance about Ladakh that prevailed even at the highest levels of decision-making in New Delhi.

Leh is smoldering today, and the intensity of its anger still seems to escape the full comprehension in the Indian mainland. On September 24, 2024, at least four people were reportedly killed and well over fifty injured after a mass agitation in Leh, led by the youth wing of the Leh Apex Body (LAB), turned violent.

The protests followed a 35-day hunger strike that began on September 10, demanding statehood and inclusion under the Sixth Schedule of the Constitution. The hospitalisation of two hunger strikers reportedly triggered the escalation, but the leadership has since reaffirmed its resolve to continue until their demands are met.  

While some broad contours of Ladakh’s present turmoil are evident in the wider discourse, such as the demand for statehood and inclusion under the Sixth Schedule, the deeper political genesis remains poorly understood. The current crisis is part of the wider set of problems that surfaced after the abrogation of Article 370. Regardless of one’s views on that decision, it is clear that several structural issues were neither anticipated nor addressed in making it. Although the newly-created Union Territory of Jammu and Kashmir has its own set of post-abrogation challenges, Ladakh represents an altogether different discussion.

Two Councils Created Two Regions

Let us begin with Puri’s warning to Prime Minister Rao, which proved prescient, as developments in the next three decades indicated. He cautioned that, given ground realities in Ladakh, creating a separate council for Leh may be a temporary band-aid but it would generate long-term problems for the country. Therefore, he advocated for a more inclusive regional arrangement, in which Leh and Kargil could share a council. This structure was a part of Puri's idea of a larger blueprint for undivided Jammu and Kashmir, which is popularly known as regional autonomy.

Nevertheless, a different course was settled upon. In 2003, under Chief Minister Mufti Mohammad Sayeed, Kargil, a Shia Muslim-majority district that had initially opposed the idea of a council, was also granted one. This effectively institutionalised the division between the two regions on the basis of religion.

Yet, even this arrangement failed to satisfy Leh, which had historically aspired not merely to autonomy but complete separation from Jammu and Kashmir through Union Territory status. Leh’s quest for that status dates back to 1947, as reflected in the statements of former parliamentarian and religious leader, Kushok Bakula Rinpoche.

Part of the Tibetan plateau, where the dominant faith is Tibetan Vajrayana Buddhism, a form of Mahayana Buddhism, and historically a crossroads between Central and South Asia, Leh has long harboured political aspirations of separation from Jammu and Kashmir. Actually, even the Leh council was constituted only after a severe agitation that had unnerved the central government. In July 1989, as many then in Jammu and Kashmir would remember vividly, the Ladakh Buddhist Association (LBA) launched an agitation demanding Union Territory status.

The movement, marked by protests, boycotts, and hunger strikes, was called off only after Union Home Minister Buta Singh visited Leh and promised to consider the creation of an autonomous hill council. Negotiations that followed were protracted and inconclusive. Several rounds of talks in 1991 between Jammu and Kashmir Governor GC Saxena and the LBA ended in stalemate. Finally, on October 10, 1993, the Centre announced the establishment of the LAHDC for Leh district.  

The demand for Union Territory status had long been rooted in allegations of discrimination by the state government and the perception that the people of Ladakh were treated as “second-class citizens" in matters of services and other related spheres.

Article 370 Abrogation

Fast forward to August 5, 2019, when Ladakh was separated from Jammu and Kashmir and made a Union Territory. What seemed at first like the attainment of a long-cherished political goal soon gave way to new structural challenges and a stalemate. While Leh welcomed the move, protests erupted in Kargil, with residents demanding that the Union Territory’s capital rotate between the two districts.

The contrasting reactions reflected longstanding differences: Leh had historically pushed for separation, while Kargil had opposed detachment from the Muslim-majority state of Jammu and Kashmir. In Leh, the initial excitement over UT status quickly faded. Ambiguities surrounding the powers of the elected councils of Leh and Kargil under the new constitutional arrangement became a major source of discontent. In the revised structure, the unelected lieutenant-governor emerged as the de facto head of government and state.

Of the nearly ₹6,000 crore allocated annually to Ladakh by New Delhi, only about 9 per cent is shared between the two councils, with the remainder controlled by the lieutenant-governor’s administration. Compounding the problem, Ladakh’s short working season, less than six months, makes the principle of rolling over unspent funds critical. Before August 2019, such rollover was permitted; now, unspent funds lapse. Adding to the disillusionment, no institutional mechanism exists to coordinate between the lieutenant-governor’s administration and the elected councils, with senior bureaucrats answerable solely to the former.

In sum, both Leh and Kargil came to realise that Union Territory status had, in practice, further eroded the limited powers they once exercised as part of a united Jammu and Kashmir.

Other developments soon followed, including fears of demographic change and the possible entry of outside capitalist interests to set up industries. While some of these anxieties were partially addressed through the introduction of stringent domicile rules, they did little to ease local resentment, already aggravated by the steady erosion of the powers of elected representatives in the new arrangement of union territory. Today, the leadership in both Leh and Kargil is united in demanding an empowered Ladakh, with possible statehood. There is also a strong push for Ladakh’s inclusion under the Sixth Schedule of the Indian Constitution.

Originally designed for tribal areas in Assam, Meghalaya, Tripura, and Mizoram, the Sixth Schedule provides autonomous district and regional councils with legislative, executive, judicial, and financial powers. Whether these demands are ultimately feasible or not remains uncertain, but what is striking is the rare moment of unity between Leh and Kargil, two districts historically divided, that now underpins them.

The central government did attempt to address the impasse by recently appointing Kavinder Gupta, a BJP senior leader and former Speaker of the Jammu and Kashmir Assembly, as Lieutenant Governor. It was believed that his political background in the erstwhile state would help him build consensus among stakeholders. However, with Ladakh now separated from Jammu and Kashmir, the old bonds of identity failed to resonate. The violent events on Wednesday came despite a series of talks between the central government and Ladakhi leadership in the last five years.

These developments highlight that while New Delhi has reopened negotiation channels on October 6, the stakes are far higher: Ladakhi leaders are no longer seeking piecemeal concessions but structural and constitutional reforms. Unless the ongoing talks produce meaningful guarantees, Ladakh’s deeper frustrations, rooted in ecological stress and perceptions of bureaucratic overreach are unlikely to dissipate.

Self-Governance Aspiration

At its core, the current rage is about respect for political rights: the right of Ladakh to govern their own land. The current Union Territory status, much like in the rest of Jammu and Kashmir, remains a barrier to that aspiration. The dilemma before the central government is, however, real. The decision in 1993 and 2003 to create separate councils for Leh and Kargil respectively, followed by the eventual separation of Ladakh as a Union Territory, have all contributed to create  a structural reality for which there is no easy solution. Given Ladakh’s small population, estimated to be around 3 Lakh, and vast geography, the viability of full statehood is open to question by many. The smallest state in India by population is Sikkim with a population estimated to be seven lakhs.

The prospect of creating a state with a population of barely three lakh, riven by underlying divisions between Leh and Kargil, even if temporarily muted in pursuit of a common goal poses a significant concern for the central government. With the benefit of hindsight, a common elected Ladakhi council within the erstwhile state of Jammu and Kashmir, equipped with adequate political, social, and economic devolution, might have offered a more balanced solution which would have addressed local aspirations while also meeting the concerns of the central government. And this is also a fact that the current status is far from satisfactory for the locals and is enraging the local population as evidenced by Wednesday’s protests.

The region’s new political currents are unfolding against the backdrop of climate change, with glaciers in the cold desert melting at alarming rates. This carries direct consequences for the densely populated Indus water basin downstream. This is combined with the challenges around India and China’s boundary disputes.

Ladakh’s three-decade experiment offers a wider lesson for diverse societies: that divisions and separations often create new structural realities and challenges. Instead of resolving old tensions, they dismantle earlier social and political constructs and produce a reality that leaves all sides dissatisfied. Addressing Ladakh’s grievances requires a grounded, inclusive, and empathetic political approach - one rooted in a constitutional framework tailored to Ladakh’s unique realities and aspirations, and shaped through the prism of asymmetrical federalism. Decisions must reflect a deeper understanding of the region and be anchored in forward-looking planning.

Ladakh’s present stalemate is also a cautionary tale: decisions concerning India’s borderlands cannot be made in haste or abstraction. They demand careful attention to ground realities, structural forces, and the lessons of history. Three decades after Prime Minister Rao’s startled realization of how little Delhi understood Ladakh, that blindness still endures. Unless India confronts Ladakh’s realities with clarity and empathy, today’s smolder could well ignite into a fire too large to contain.

(Luv Puri has authored two books on Jammu and Kashmir namely Uncovered Face of Militancy and Across the Line of Control, the latter published by Columbia University Press. The views are personal.)