Freedom fast: Why is Ladakh unhappy?

Remind me what happened to Ladakh…

In August 2019, the government first eliminated Article 370—which essentially made Jammu & Kashmir exempt from the Indian Constitution except for foreign affairs, defence and communications. It then pushed through a bill in the Rajya Sabha that divided the state into two Union Territories: Ladakh and J&K. 

The UT downgrade: Unlike states, Union Territories do not make their own laws. And many of them do not have their own legislatures. Chandigarh, for example, has none—and is entirely governed by a Lt Governor appointed by the Centre. In 2019, Ladakh joined those ranks. 

Quest for freedom: Ladakh has always felt like the neglected step-child—ignored by successive governments in Srinagar. In 1995, the Ladakh Autonomous Hill Development Council (LAHDC) was created to give more autonomy to the region—but it made little difference. The Council had limited powers—which included control and use of land, laying down guidelines for the implementation of schemes, tourism, irrigation and agriculture. But their decisions had to be cleared by Srinagar—which fueled local resentment. 

A religious divide: When Article 370 was revoked, the reaction in Ladakh was divided along religious lines. Buddhist residents of Leh celebrated their independence from J&K—hoping it would bring greater freedom. Muslim-dominated Kargil was outraged at the loss of Kashmir’s autonomy. However, that schism has disappeared over the recent years—replaced by a unified demand for statehood. Where Ladakhis once celebrated the end of Kashmir’s special status, they are now claiming it for themselves.

Why is that? Other UTs are doing fine…

There are three core issues fueling the anger in Ladakh: land, tourism and jobs. All three reflect the same cause for resentment: the New Delhi raj over Ladakh.

Whose land is it anyway? Since 2019, the Ladakh Autonomous Hill Development Council has lost whatever little power they possessed. The union government has approved a flurry of big-ticket development projects—without even a pretence of consulting the Council. Between 2015 and 2019, Ladakh had only greenlit four agreements with public and private sector companies—an average of one agreement a year. In 2020 and 2021, it inked 10 such deals.

Many of the plans pose an alarming threat to ecologically sensitive areas of Ladakh. Here’s one example:

These include an agreement with the government-owned Oil and Natural Gas Corporation to set up India’s first geothermal power plant in Puga Valley. Located about 170 km away from Leh, the area is known for its natural hot springs. The project involves drilling up to 500 metres into the earth to draw out naturally occurring hot water whose steam will be used to generate electricity.

A damning bit of data: Ladakh represents a “powerhouse” of alternative energy—which sounds like great news. But, but, but: 

The vast majority of this energy would go to power other parts of the country, as the total power demand within Ladakh is about 50 MW, merely 0.3% of the region’s total power capacity (including both existing and proposed projects). 

During her budget speech, Finance Minister Nirmala Sitharaman announced a Rs 83 billion (8,300 crore) “inter-state transmission system” to transmit solar power-generated electricity from Ladakh to Haryana.

Pressure from China: A lot of the development is happening at breakneck speed—spurred by concerns over Chinese incursions on the border. Since 2019, 750.21 km of roads have been constructed or upgraded—and 29 bridges and 30 helipads have been built. In 2023, work began on an all-weather 498 kilometres railway line with 40 stations—with a budget of $12 billion. 

As for jobs: The region was already struggling with high levels of unemployment—but those numbers have soared since 2019. Ladakh experienced one of the highest rises in unemployment in India between 2021 and 2023. Joblessness grew by 16%—with 26.5% of college graduates unemployed.

Here’s how bad it is: In 2022, 30,000 young people applied for 377 non-gazetted government jobs. Seven candidates with graduate degrees and one science postgraduate landed positions as “sweeper cum scavengers”

The high price of employment: Development projects may indeed generate jobs—but the costs may be devastating. For example, a 13 Gigawatt solar project will require 20,000 acres of grazing land—which will decimate nomadic communities. According to rumours, the government is trying to convince them to take up jobs as workers—but that means ending their entire way of life.

Umm, and what’s wrong with tourism (checks vacay plans)?

Tourist traffic to the region has been increasing at a rapid pace, as well. Their numbers in Leh have jumped from 50,000 in 2007 to 320,000 in 2018—and over 500,000 in 2022. While tourism is a vital lifeline for locals, this kind of exponential growth is unsustainable. Consider this number: Soon after the pandemic ended, 400,000 tourists visited Leh in a single season. The total population of Leh: 30,000.

The unseen water crisis: There is much hysteria over water shortage in Bangalore,  but no one is paying attention to the far more serious crisis brewing in Leh. Unregulated tourism creates severe pressure on limited resources in a cold and mostly arid land—of which water is the scarcest: 

People depend on glacial melt for drinking, irrigation and energy generation. Springs that are fed by glaciers are drying up because of retreating glaciers atop mountains… As a result, the Indus is emerging as the single-most important source of water for both wildlife and humans. 

The water quality of the Indus, however, is declining due to pollution—caused by the invasion of tourists: 

A report on water-related issues… calculated that in Leh, a tourist used about 100 litres of water a day in summers and 60 litres in winters whereas a local used about 75 litres a day in summers and 50 litres in winters. The poor, especially migrant workers, had access to only 25-35 litres per person per day. To meet these requirements, the dependence on underground water, which is often contaminated, had increased, the report found.

Adding to the worries: The government has unilaterally decided to upgrade the airport in Leh—so it can handle 2 million passengers each year—a colossal increase from its current capacity of 900,000. No one asked Ladakhis if they wanted these many outsiders in their midst.

Ok, so what do the Ladakhis want?

Pretty much everything that can safeguard their autonomy. 

The Sixth Schedule: Ladakh wants special status—along the lines of tribal states in the Northeast such as Mizoram, Tripura and Sikkim. These are protected by the Sixth Schedule of the Constitution:

The Schedule protects tribal populations and provides autonomy to the communities through autonomous development councils. The councils are empowered to legislate on issues of land, agriculture, forests, village administration, inheritance of property, public health, marriage and divorce, etc. 

Now, more than 97% of Ladakh’s population of over 2.74 lakh is tribal. That’s why the National Commission for Scheduled Tribes recommended it be brought under the Sixth Schedule in 2019. The hope was that separation from Kashmir would make this more likely—especially since the BJP had vowed to do so in its local and national election manifestos. While Amit Shah has made soothing noises at recent meetings with local leaders, there is no mention of the BJP election promise.

As for statehood: This is a no-brainer since becoming a full-fledged state will give Ladakh an empowered legislature—with all the powers it entails. That said, local leaders sound far more confident about their demand for protection under the Sixth Schedule:

We are assured the Sixth Schedule is the only way to manage our resources and support our future generations. As a tribal-majority region, this is our right, which is why our slogan during the meetings and protests has been this – hum apna hak maangte, nahi kisi se bheek mangte (We are not begging, but demanding our right).

Point to note: Ladakh’s leaders say the government is reluctant to grant protection under the Sixth Schedule—because it will lose its power to greenlight development projects at will.

Where we are now: Activist Sonam Wangchuk—who has become the face of Ladakh’s rebellion—cancelled plans to hold a protest march from Ladakh’s Leh to the Line of Actual Control. The season: the local administration invoked Section 144 to ban public gatherings. Wangchuk said he feared any confrontation with authorities would offer the perfect excuse to label the movement as “anti-national.” The statement is a measure of how fraught the situation has become. 

The bottomline: Wangchuk explains the desire for autonomy in these words: “Ladakh has become like a colony. Some commissioners from a far off place with no link with local people or ecology are trying to run this place. Ladakh is in fact like Mars.” No one wants a border area—threatened by the Chinese—to feel like Mars.

Reading list

Scroll and The Hindu offer very good explainers on the conflict. Down to Earth and Hindustan Times are best on the environmental angle. The Diplomat looks at the implications for the border. We explained the recent ruling by the Supreme Court upholding the revocation of Article 370—part one has everything you need to know about the ruling and part two has more on its constitutionality.