For decades, Jammu and Kashmir has remained at the center of a complex geopolitical dispute shaped by competing national claims, cross-border tensions, and cycles of militancy.

Since 1947, successive phases of conflict including tribal incursions, conventional wars, and later proxy engagements have defined the security landscape. Indian officials have consistently maintained that Pakistan has supported militant activity in the region, a charge Islamabad denies, asserting instead that it offers diplomatic and moral backing to Kashmiri self-determination.

The conflict evolved significantly in the late 20th century, particularly during the 1990s, when an armed insurgency intensified across the Valley. Indian security agencies have described this period as the institutionalization of a proxy war, marked by the rise of non-state armed groups and cross-border infiltration.

Pakistan has rejected these allegations, though international bodies such as the Financial Action Task Force (FATF) placed the country on its “grey list” from 2018 to 2022, citing deficiencies in counter-terror financing frameworks.Recent incidents continue to shape security perceptions.

In April 2025, an attack in Pahalgam targeted civilians, including tourists, underscoring concerns among Indian authorities about the persistence of militant networks. Officials have argued that such attacks aim to undermine economic recovery, particularly in tourism, which has shown significant growth in recent years.

India’s policy approach has shifted notably since August 2019, when the government revoked the region’s special constitutional status and reorganized Jammu and Kashmir into a Union Territory. The move was presented by New Delhi as a step toward deeper integration, administrative efficiency, and expanded access to national laws and welfare schemes.

Critics, including some political groups within the region and international observers, have raised concerns about federalism, civil liberties, and political representation following the change.

Since the reorganization, the administration under Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha has emphasized governance reforms and development initiatives. Official data indicates that welfare coverage has expanded, including the issuance of approximately 2.1 million health insurance cards under the Ayushman Bharat scheme.

Infrastructure in healthcare has been scaled up with new medical colleges and planned All India Institute of Medical Sciences (AIIMS) facilities in Awantipora and Jammu.Education policy has also undergone changes aligned with the National Education Policy 2020, with authorities reporting increased funding for scholarships targeting tribal and economically disadvantaged students.

In rural development, more than 63,000 houses have reportedly been sanctioned under the Pradhan Mantri Awas Yojana, while tap water access under the Jal Jeevan Mission has reached over 80 percent of rural households, according to government figures.

Economic indicators cited by officials point to increased investor interest, with investments worth ₹5,600 crore realized since 2019 and proposals totaling approximately ₹66,000 crore under consideration.

The tourism sector has been a focal point of recovery efforts. Government data shows that 23.5 million tourists visited Jammu and Kashmir in 2024, marking a record high, while international tourist arrivals have grown significantly since 2022.

Large-scale infrastructure projects have also been highlighted as symbols of integration and development. The completion of the Udhampur–Srinagar–Baramulla rail link, including what authorities describe as the world’s highest railway bridge, is expected to enhance connectivity and economic activity.

Hydropower development remains a long-term priority, with a projected potential of 20,000 megawatts.At the grassroots level, officials report a rise in local entrepreneurship, particularly in tourism-linked sectors such as homestays, cafés, and small hospitality ventures.

More than 2,500 homestay units have been registered, reflecting a shift toward decentralized economic participation. Skill development initiatives, including coaching programs for national-level examinations, have been introduced to improve employment prospects for youth.

Security conditions, while still closely monitored, have shown signs of stabilization according to official assessments. The successful hosting of the G20 Tourism Working Group meeting in Srinagar in 2023 was cited by the government as evidence of improved security preparedness.

Religious tourism, including the annual Amarnath Yatra, has also seen enhanced logistical and safe arrangements.Despite these developments, the human cost of past decades remains visible.

Cases of civilian suffering continue to be documented by local communities and advocacy groups.

In Pulwama district, the case of Gul Hassan Shah, a nonagenarian who lost his son to abduction and killing in 2003, reflects the long-term impact of violence on families.

Similarly, accounts such as that of Fareeda Begum, who sought state support for over two decades after her husband’s killing, highlight administrative delays and gaps in victim rehabilitation frameworks. Her eventual appointment to a government position in 2025 was presented by officials as part of a broader effort to address legacy grievances.

The pre-2019 governance structure has also come under scrutiny in official narratives, with authorities alleging that institutional inefficiencies and political patronage systems hindered equitable access to state resources.

Specific cases, including the 2009 Shopian incident, remain contested, with differing interpretations regarding investigative processes and accountability.

Analysts note that the region’s trajectory will depend on a combination of sustained security measures, political engagement, and economic inclusion.

While the government emphasizes a transition from conflict management to development-driven governance, questions around political representation, restoration of statehood, and long-term reconciliation remain part of the broader discourse.

India’s position continues to stress that security and development are interlinked, and that economic normalization is essential to counter militancy. Pakistan maintains its stance on Kashmir as a disputed territory requiring international attention.

The divergence in narratives ensures that Jammu and Kashmir remains a focal point in regional geopolitics, even as on-ground indicators point to gradual changes in governance and economic activity.

While the discussion was initially intended to focus on another topic, Patel chose to address the question head-on. “It’s a sensitive subject,” he acknowledged, “but I want to frankly put forward my view. Because of recent events and the buzz on social media, this discussion has become necessary.”

Patel’s response was not politically driven, but deeply rooted in Islamic ethics and Sharia principles. His critique centered not on the people of Pakistan, but on what he described as a dangerous contradiction: the open and tolerated presence of armed terror groups within the country’s borders.

“Think for yourself — Pakistan is a country where terror groups openly exist,” he said. “It may not be officially legal, but their existence is not hidden.”

From a Sharia perspective, Patel reminded listeners that such realities are alarming. Islamic scholars across the world have issued fatwas—legal verdicts—categorically opposing the existence of independent armed militias operating outside the state’s control. “Even if what these groups do is set aside for a moment,” he said, “their very existence is a problem.”

Zaid Patel emphasized that such groups, while claiming to operate in the name of Islam, have in fact brought grave damage to the image of the religion globally. “These groups carry out violence, including attacks on civilians, and claim it as jihad. But their actions have no basis in the Quran or the Sunnah,” he noted.

In a powerful and emotional moment, Patel turned the spotlight on the consequences faced by Indian Muslims.

“We Indian Muslims suffer because of this exported extremism. The extremism increasing in India also has roots in this external influence,” he said.

According to Patel, these groups have not only harmed Muslims in Pakistan but have also created ripple effects across the region. Their activities have given fuel to anti-Muslim narratives, sowing suspicion and hostility toward peace-loving Muslims, especially in India.

“Have you ever seen a terror group condemn an attack, saying it was wrong?” Patel asked. “Instead, even if they didn’t do it, they behave as if they want credit for it. That’s the dangerous mentality that is spreading in public spaces.”

This dual failure—both moral and political—has led to what he calls “a double policy.” On paper, Pakistan adheres to international treaties and obligations. But in practice, these groups operate with shocking impunity. “There’s ample proof that they operate with legal and logistical freedom,” Patel said. “When the whole world knows about them, how can we pretend otherwise?”

His message was particularly resonant for Indian Muslims, who often find themselves caught in the crossfire—both metaphorically and socially. “We bear the consequences both internally and externally,” he lamented. “Terrorism is being used as a proxy war in the name of Islam, and all of us suffer because of it.”

Ending his statement with clarity and compassion, Zaid Patel reiterated that Islam offers no room for such armed militancy. “A Muslim country should not allow independent armed groups to exist. There is no justification for it in the Quran or Hadith. Their actions harm Islam and Muslims worldwide.”

In an age of noise and half-truths, Patel’s forthright response stood out—not just for its honesty, but for its deep concern for the well-being of Indian Muslims and the sanctity of Islamic teachings. It was less a political answer and more a moral plea: for accountability, for clarity, and above all, for peace.

It is the regime in Tehran that refuses to join any table where Israel is present. At its core, this is a grand strategy rooted—as is often the case—in identity politics.

In Western media, it’s common to describe Israel and Iran (more precisely, the current regime in Tehran) as each other’s “main enemy” or “arch-enemy.” The term echoes Cold War-era Soviet rhetoric and seems to reflect a reality of deep-rooted geopolitical rivalry. But the hostility between Israel and Iran is neither ancient nor inevitable. As regional powers, some degree of competition between them is natural—especially in an era of American retreat—but that alone doesn’t explain why the destruction of Israel has become a clear and central objective of Iran’s grand strategy since the Islamic Revolution.

This wasn’t the case under the previous regime. As many Israelis know—and sometimes remind others, though the topic has become sensitive due to long-standing legal disputes over unresolved financial issues—there’s an almost monumental “memorial” in Israel to the cooperation and once-strong friendship between the two countries. It’s about 200 kilometers long and occasionally leaks: the Eilat-Ashkelon oil pipeline was originally built to transport Iranian oil to the Mediterranean Sea, and from there to European ports. Until the Islamic Revolution and Khomeini’s rise to power, Iran was a strategic partner of Israel and a member of the “periphery alliance” that Ben-Gurion forged in the late 1950s in response to the Nasserist threat, alongside Kemalist Turkey and imperial Ethiopia (both of which have also undergone major changes since then). Israelis were involved in various projects in Iran, from security to agriculture.

So what lies at the root of this intense hostility toward Israel’s very existence, which has become—literally—one of the regime’s core ideological principles, both for Khomeini and his successor as Supreme Leader (Rahbar—“Guide,” a title whose meaning becomes especially clear if translated into German…) Ali Khamenei? Anger over the role Israel and the U.S. played in supporting the hated Shah regime is certainly part of the initial explanation. But past grievances alone don’t account for the depth and persistence of this enmity, which just recently found renewed expression in bold statements about the commitment to destroy Israel (“even if we are cut to pieces,” in the words of a senior Revolutionary Guards commander). Far more powerful forces, rooted in the very identity of the Iranian revolutionary regime, are at play here.

The Iranian revolutionary regime could have, if it had wanted to, used the arms supply from Israel—part of the problematic Iran-Contra deal in the Reagan era—as a springboard to open a new chapter. It chose not to. On the contrary, the hostility only deepened and intensified over time. It even took on the grotesque form of mocking the Holocaust—through cartoon contests that continued even after the Ahmadinejad era—and was succinctly expressed in a venomous tweet by Khamenei in November 2014 (still available online), detailing nine points explaining why and how Israel should be eliminated.

Traditional geopolitics naturally breeds competition and sometimes conflict between regional powers. But in this case, it fails to justify such an extreme stance—unparalleled in today’s international arena—where one UN member state denies the very right of another to exist. It also doesn’t justify Iran’s massive investment in arming Hezbollah to seriously threaten Israel’s civilian rear; in arming and training Palestinian terrorist groups through its cooperation with Hamas and its proxy ties with Palestinian Islamic Jihad; or in turning Assad’s Syria into a land bridge to the Mediterranean and an additional launchpad for attacks on Israel.

It’s true that Iran’s leadership today, through this “ring of fire,” also has a deterrent motive: to discourage Israel from launching a military strike on its nuclear weapons program. But Israel, for its part, would not be considering such a strike had Iran not openly marked it for destruction and forced Israel to treat the Iranian regime as a threat to its very survival. So what, then, fuels the constant chant of “Death to Israel” — “Marg bar Israel”?

There’s no territorial dispute between Israel and Iran, nor economic rivalry—aside from the unresolved question of compensation for the oil pipeline, currently under arbitration in a Swiss court. Israel does not threaten Iran’s legitimate demand to be part of the regional power balance and to sit at the diplomatic table. It is the regime in Tehran that refuses to join any table where Israel is present. At its core, this is a grand strategy rooted—as is often the case—in identity politics. In this instance, the identity of the current Iranian regime as a political embodiment of a sweeping, dramatic, modern, and revolutionary interpretation of Shiite Islamic doctrine.

It’s worth recalling: the fundamental split between Sunnis (literally “people of the tradition”) and Shiites (“the faction”) stems from a disagreement about the political history of the Muslim community—who should have succeeded the Prophet Muhammad as spiritual leader, political head, and military commander. The Shiites remained loyal to Ali, the Prophet’s son-in-law, and his direct descendants. The deaths of the Prophet’s grandsons, Hasan and Husayn (Ali’s sons), in their defeat against the Sunni Umayyad dynasty’s army at the Battle of Karbala (680 CE), became in Shiite theology a formative catastrophe—a triumph of injustice and the symbol of a history that went terribly wrong.

In the end times, this wrong is to be righted with the return of the “Hidden Imam.” Iranian Shiism belongs to the Twelver branch, which recognizes ten generations of Ali’s descendants until the disappearance of the last one—Muhammad, son of Hasan al-Askari—in 874 CE. Since then, Twelver Shiites await his return. When he reappears as the Mahdi—a figure somewhat comparable to the Jewish Messiah—the world will be redeemed. But according to the interpretation that Khomeini introduced in the last quarter of the 20th century, the prolonged mourning for that loss and the patient wait for redemption were replaced by a call to arms: to rally believers to active struggle, and to fix the world by force.

What Khomeini effectively did—and he was likely influenced during his exile in Paris by thinkers like Frantz Fanon and others who framed anti-colonial, anti-Western Marxist struggles in the Third World as redemption for “the wretched of the earth”—was to translate the ancient anguish and frustration of Shiism into a modern revolutionary agenda. The injustice of the 7th century thus became, in its Khomeinist reincarnation, a call to overturn the existing local, regional, and global political order.

It so happened that the Islamic Revolution’s rise to power in Iran occurred the same year that a cornerstone of secular Arab nationalism collapsed: the peace agreement signed by Egypt’s President Sadat with Israel in March 1979 on the White House lawn—just weeks after Khomeini’s return to Iran in triumph. This coincidence created another twist in Iran’s stance toward Israel, which has grown increasingly rigid and defiant over four decades. The core message: first Egypt, and later (in the 1990s) other weak and “treacherous” Sunni regimes, surrendered to Israel and laid down their arms—or, as Saddam did in 1981, turned them against Iran. Not coincidentally, Iran’s regime named a major Tehran street after Khaled al-Islambouli, Sadat’s assassin.

Now, it is supposedly the duty of “true Islam”—the Shiite version of revolutionary Islamism—to prove its worth and moral superiority by being the only one to persist in striving for Israel’s destruction. For this goal, the Iranians were willing to overcome, in the name of unity against a common enemy, the deep gulf between Shiism and radical Sunni groups like Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad. Still, the Sunni-Shiite divide re-emerged in Iraq after the U.S. invasion in spring 2003. Iran sees ISIS as an existential enemy of Shiism and contributed to its defeat in Iraq and Syria, yet this shared interest with the U.S. didn’t shift Tehran’s fundamental positions.

In any case, even as it is entangled in multiple fronts, the ayatollahs’ regime views the struggle to destroy Israel as a central part of its historic mission. To its mind, this is definitive proof that the Shiite revolution—according to its interpretation—is the true fulfillment of Islamic commandment. Meanwhile, the “wretched” Sunni regimes have surrendered, accepted Israel’s existence, and even normalized ties. It’s important to note that Iran has very complex relations with the UAE: a territorial dispute—it controls three islands belonging to the Emirates—combined with ideological tensions, yet also diplomatic dialogue and extensive trade and financial relations.

Iran’s position toward Israel has therefore become, in the eyes of its leadership, a source of regime legitimacy—both across the Sunni Muslim world and, even more crucially, at home. After all, the revolution has failed in practice when it comes to the wellbeing of the Iranian people. A country that was three times richer than Turkey in 1979 is now four times poorer. Corruption, drugs, and prostitution have infected the social fabric. Brutal repression of dissent has become routine. Precisely because of this, the regime stakes its credibility on waving the anti-Zionist flag with fervor. It’s not at all clear that this stance enjoys broad public support, especially given public resentment over massive expenditures in Syria and Lebanon. But it does tighten the regime’s grip on its core political base—the religious establishment.

Moreover, by its very existence, Israel—as a modern nation-state with Western features, not merely a “protected community” like Iranian Jews—embodies a central pillar of the post-1945 global order. In its ideological horizon, the Shiite totalitarian revolution seeks to upend this order entirely. It defines it in terms of “hegemony” and “global arrogance” (a code name for the U.S.) and links the struggle against it to the fight against “the Great Satan” in Washington and “the Little Satan” in Jerusalem. At one point, Ahmadinejad even tried to offer his German hosts condolences for losing WWII—suggesting that, in his view, the wrong side won. In this context, the intent to destroy Israel is indeed part of a comprehensive, strategic, ideological, and historical worldview aimed at fixing what went wrong in 661 (Ali’s assassination), 680 (his sons’ deaths at Karbala), and 1945 and 1948.

Despite occasional shows of tolerance toward Iran’s relatively large remaining Jewish community, this worldview also contains unmistakable notes of classic anti-Semitism, which have seeped into Iranian discourse under the influence of Western totalitarian models.

The implication for Israel, its friends, allies, and new regional partners should be clear. Unlike “ordinary” conflicts over clashing interests, these meta-historical motivations are powerful. It’s hard to change or deter them through diplomacy—unless that diplomacy is backed by strong, effective military deterrence.

Translated in English from Jerusalem Institute of Strategic Studies.