India and Pakistan exchanged aircraft and missile fire under the cover of darkness. The short war, which followed the Pulwama attack in Indian-occupied Kashmir, cast a long shadow—one under which political repression and elite plunder intensified. While attention turned to airstrikes and patriotic soundbites, the Pakistani state used this moment to unleash a brutal crackdown—not on a foreign enemy, but on its own citizens.
The war, however short-lived, created the necessary hysteria and distractions for the furthering of the Pakistani state’s internal colonial project. In Gilgit-Baltistan, this takes the form of aggressive land acquisitions for mineral extraction and elite tourism ventures. Customary law divides land and the wealth of the mountains among the nearby villages. Collective decision-making keeps mineral and gemstone extraction sustainable and considerate of the local habitus. This system is now under assault. The military, backed by the federal government—then controlled by the PML-N and PPP—pushed through the Gilgit-Baltistan Legislative Assembly the Gilgit-Baltistan Land Reforms Act (GBLRA).
The GBLRA is designed to empower the state and its agencies to appropriate land and transfer it to corporate entities. The power to authorize such seizures now lies with bureaucrats and local elites, sidestepping the people, customary law, and long-standing traditions of stewardship. The act is draconian: it enables the eviction of land occupants without judicial oversight, providing only a 15-day notice. Alongside this land grab is the state’s move to capture a greater share of the tourism economy. Forty-four hotels, motels, and tourist sites formerly owned by public departments have been leased for thirty years to Green Tourism Limited, a company staffed at senior levels by retired military officers and functioning as an extension of the military’s corporate empire, or “Milbus.”
“Milbus”—a term coined by Ayesha Siddiqa in Military Inc.—describes the military’s vast commercial interests in Pakistan. Green Tourism effectively privatizes public resources and places them under indirect military control.
The legality of the Land Reforms Act is questionable. Firstly, the GBLA that passed it operates in legal ambiguity. It exists not through constitutional statute but through presidential executive orders—like the Empowerment Order of 2009 and the Reforms Order of 2018—not acts of Pakistan’s Parliament. Further, Gilgit-Baltistan is a disputed territory within the unresolved Kashmir conflict, meaning it is not formally part of Pakistan. Even Pakistan’s Supreme Court has affirmed that GB is administratively linked to Pakistan but not constitutionally integrated, and any governing orders must conform to Pakistan’s national laws and the UN resolutions on Kashmir. The legal basis of the GBLRA, then, is not only shaky but also politically contentious.
Authority in Gilgit-Baltistan, however, does not rest on legality but on coercion. The Pakistani riyasat enforces its will through its monopoly on violence—via the military, intelligence agencies, and militarized civil bureaucracy—to advance its colonial project. The passage of the Land Reforms Act was preceded by a show of force, including the arrest of local activists—particularly the leadership of the Gilgit-Baltistan Awami Action Committee (AAC-GB).
The AAC-GB was founded in 2014 to resist the withdrawal of the wheat subsidy granted to Gilgit-Baltistan. It united communist and religious organisations across sectarian divides and created a rare platform for regional unity. The AAC successfully led mass protests involving tens of thousands of people. Under the leadership of the communist Ehsan Ali, they mobilized residents from all eight districts into sustained sit-ins and people’s assemblies in Gilgit and Skardu. But success did not dull their vision; the leadership foresaw further struggles.
In 2014, Ehsan Ali told the authors that future battles would be for land rights and against exploitative mining. A decade later, his warning proved prescient. The AAC-GB, preparing for the next phase of struggle, sought to hold a Grand Jirga to secure a popular mandate. But on 14 May 2025, key AAC-GB leaders, including Chairman Ehsan Ali, were arrested under anti-terrorism laws while attempting to organize this jirga against the Land Reforms Act and mineral extraction. Ehsan, a member of the Revolutionary Communist Party, was also placed on Pakistan’s Fourth Schedule—a draconian legal tool used to surveil and restrict political dissenters.
The arrests triggered widespread protests across Gilgit, Hunza, and Skardu, soon spilling into major cities like Lahore, Karachi, and Islamabad. International solidarity actions followed, most of them organized by the Revolutionary Communist Party in the UK, US, Europe, and Latin America. Protesters denounced the arrests as politically motivated efforts to crush democratic mobilisation. They demanded the immediate release of AAC-GB leaders, the withdrawal of all charges, and Ehsan Ali’s removal from the Fourth Schedule. Human rights organizations raised alarm over custodial torture, denial of bail, and Ehsan Ali’s deteriorating health, which led to his hospitalization. As of June 2025, the AAC-GB leaders remain imprisoned, and what began as a regional struggle has evolved into a broad national and international campaign for justice and democratic rights in Gilgit-Baltistan.
For any state to maintain legitimacy, it must be grounded in a social contract with its people. In Gilgit-Baltistan, that contract has been systematically eroded. Under the cover of national security, the Pakistani state has prioritized extraction and control over rights and representation. Land laws have been rewritten to displace communities; protests have been met with arrests; and political dissent has been criminalized. What is unfolding is not simply a legal dispute but a crisis of democratic authority. If this trajectory continues, resistance in Gilgit-Baltistan will not only persist—it will intensify, as communities confront a state that governs them without consent.
