The conversation we owe Kashmir
Some things become part of your identity long before you understand why.
My love for Kashmir is one of them.
I have never had to convince myself that Kashmir mattered. It simply did. I suspect most Pakistanis would say the same. We grew up believing that Kashmiris were not strangers separated by a Line of Control, but brothers and sisters separated by circumstance.
Over time, that state narrative became something far more personal. It became brotherhood.
And brotherhood, if it means anything at all, means respecting the other’s right to make decisions for themselves.
That is why I find myself standing with the people of Azad Jammu and Kashmir today.
Not because I oppose Pakistan.
But because I support Kashmir.
The public conversation has been reduced to “twelve seats,” as though the protesters have suddenly developed an irrational dislike for a number.
They haven’t.
This has never been about twelve seats.
It is about who gets to decide the political future of Azad Jammu and Kashmir.
For those unfamiliar with the issue, the Legislative Assembly of Azad Jammu and Kashmir consists of forty-five directly elected seats. Twelve additional seats are reserved for refugees from Indian-occupied Jammu and Kashmir who now reside in Pakistan.
On paper, the idea is understandable. Pakistan’s position has always been that the people displaced from their homes remain Kashmiris and should not lose their political voice merely because conflict forced them across the border.
No reasonable person would dispute that displaced Kashmiris deserve representation.
But representation is one thing.
Control is another.
Of those twelve refugee constituencies, nine are elected from Punjab and three from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. In practical terms, this means that more than a quarter of the directly elected Assembly is chosen by voters living outside Azad Jammu and Kashmir.
The question almost asks itself.
How can the government of a people be decided, in such significant part, by those who do not live under its administration?
Imagine if overseas Pakistanis not only voted in Pakistan’s general elections, but their constituencies alone regularly decided who became Prime Minister. Imagine if governments in Lahore or Karachi depended upon votes cast by people who did not live there. We would immediately recognise the democratic tension.
So why is it unreasonable for Kashmiris to ask the very same question?
Supporting that question does not weaken Pakistan’s position on Kashmir.
If anything, it strengthens it.
For decades, Pakistan has argued before the international community that Kashmiris possess the right to determine their own political future. Self-determination has been the moral foundation of our case.
That principle cannot stop at the Line of Control.
If we genuinely believe Kashmir belongs to the Kashmiris, then we must also believe that Kashmiris deserve the greatest possible ownership over their own democratic institutions.
Yet the debate does not end there.
Many voices now demand the immediate abolition of the refugee seats.
The law, however, is more complicated than the slogans.
In June 2026, the Supreme Court of Azad Jammu and Kashmir reaffirmed that these seats are entrenched within Article 22 of the Interim Constitution. The Court described any alteration to the Assembly’s composition as a solemn constitutional act, not something to be extracted through political pressure. Moreover, Article 33 requires prior approval from the Government of Pakistan before amendments affecting core constitutional structures may even be introduced in the Assembly.
And perhaps that raises an even bigger question than the twelve seats themselves.
Why should a legislature elected by the people of Azad Jammu and Kashmir require Islamabad’s permission before debating changes to its own constitutional structure?
If our answer is that Pakistan has always stood by Kashmir, then I ask another question.
Since when has standing beside someone entitled us to stand over them?
Brotherhood is not guardianship.
Solidarity is not supervision.
Support is not control.
Pakistan has sacrificed diplomatically, politically and morally for the Kashmiri cause. That history deserves recognition. But history cannot become a perpetual licence to decide what is best for Kashmiris without listening to Kashmiris themselves.
The protests are not asking Pakistan to abandon Kashmir.
They are asking Pakistan to trust Kashmir.
Those are two very different things.
Whether the present constitutional arrangement ultimately changes is a matter for constitutional process, not street pressure. But constitutional process should never become an excuse to avoid constitutional questions.
The protesters have asked one.
It deserves an answer.
Because this was never about twelve seats.
It was always about whether we truly believe that the future of Kashmir should be written by Kashmiris themselves.
