Col Ajay K Raina
ajaykrraina@gmail.com
When Omar Abdullah asserts that the Union Territory of Ladakh has been “doomed” since August 2019, and warns that Jammu would face a similar fate if granted separate statehood, the claim collapses under even the most cursory examination of facts on the ground. This is not a matter of political disagreement or ideological preference; it is a question of verifiable outcomes. Ladakh’s post-2019 trajectory represents one of the most striking governance turnarounds in recent Indian administrative history. To describe it as decline is to disregard lived reality.
Until barely a decade ago, even the largest town in Ladakh-Leh-received no more than four hours of electricity a day, largely dependent on diesel generators. Power cuts were not inconveniences; they defined daily existence. In a region where winter temperatures routinely plunge to minus 30 degrees Celsius, the use of room heaters and 15-ampere sockets was officially prohibited because the fragile grid simply could not sustain the load. Residents relied heavily on local wood for heating, despite the fact that Ladakh’s ecology cannot support large-scale wood consumption. Energy poverty was not anecdotal; it was structural and chronic.
Today, that reality has been fundamentally altered. Ladakh enjoys round-the-clock electricity in major habitations, with rapid progress toward energy surplus status. Solar power projects-planned at a scale unimaginable before 2019-are transforming the region’s energy security. What was once a daily struggle for basic power has become a platform for long-term sustainability. This single shift has had cascading effects: households can heat safely, students can study through long winters, hospitals can function reliably, and businesses can operate without crippling interruptions. Any serious assessment of development must begin here.
Connectivity tells a similar story. For decades, Ladakh remained geographically isolated for much of the year. Road access was seasonal, fragile, and often perilous. Zanskar, in particular, was effectively cut off for months, with travel involving an arduous, time-consuming journey via Pangi La to Kargil. Post-2019 infrastructure prioritisation has changed this equation decisively. Zanskar is now directly connected to both Manali and Leh, reducing travel time, improving access to markets, healthcare, and administration, and integrating the region more closely with the rest of Ladakh. Once the Zoji La tunnel opens, things will change beyond imagination.
Air connectivity, long a critical vulnerability, has also improved substantially. Leh’s airport has seen capacity enhancement and operational upgrades, strengthening both civilian travel and logistical resilience. More importantly, Kargil-historically underserved despite its population and strategic importance-is poised to receive air connectivity. This is not a symbolic gesture; it directly affects emergency medical evacuation, economic activity, and administrative access in a high-altitude region where distance can be fatal.
These infrastructure gains are not isolated projects; they are part of a broader shift enabled by Ladakh’s status as a Union Territory. For the first time, the region receives direct fiscal transfers and policy attention without mediation by a distant power centre. Decision-making cycles have shortened, fund utilisation has improved, and projects are designed around Ladakh’s specific geographic and climatic realities rather than being appended as afterthoughts to Kashmir-centric plans.
The social sector reflects equally tangible progress. Healthcare facilities have expanded and upgraded, with improved district hospitals, better-equipped primary health centres, and strengthened air evacuation and telemedicine capabilities. In education, Ladakhi youth increasingly pursue studies within Ladakh itself, supported by improved schooling infrastructure and access to higher education. This marks a profound shift from earlier decades, when students were compelled to migrate to other parts of the erstwhile state and often faced cultural alienation, marginalisation, and taunts. Education at home is not merely a convenience; it is a restoration of dignity.
Tourism, a vital economic pillar, has also diversified and expanded. Improved roads, reliable power, better digital connectivity, and targeted promotion have moved Ladakh beyond a narrow seasonal tourism model. The growth of homestays, local enterprises, and ancillary services has broadened income distribution and strengthened community participation. Unlike earlier periods, when economic benefits were uneven and limited, tourism today supports a wider cross-section of Ladakhi society.
Critics often point to ongoing demands from Ladakh-calls for constitutional safeguards, greater local empowerment, or Sixth Schedule-type protections-as evidence of dissatisfaction. This interpretation is deeply flawed. The very fact that Ladakhis articulate their demands through peaceful protest, dialogue, and constitutional means reflects confidence in Indian democracy. These are not expressions of alienation; they are markers of political maturity. Aspirations evolve as material conditions improve. When survival is assured, communities demand representation, preservation, and participation.
This distinction is crucial. Ladakh’s protests are not about rejection of the constitutional order, but about refinement within it. The contrast with patterns of political mobilisation elsewhere in the former state is stark and instructive. Faith in democracy is demonstrated not by silence, but by peaceful engagement.
Against this backdrop, the warning that Jammu would be “doomed” if granted separate statehood appears less like analysis and more like apprehension rooted in precedent. Ladakh’s experience undermines the argument that political reorganisation necessarily leads to decline. On the contrary, it suggests that regions long constrained by asymmetric governance can unlock potential when granted administrative autonomy, direct funding, and accountability.
Jammu’s situation prior to any reorganisation closely mirrors Ladakh’s pre-2019 condition: chronic underinvestment, limited control over priorities, and subordination within a larger political framework dominated by other regional interests. Ladakh’s transformation demonstrates that decentralisation, when paired with sustained institutional support, can correct long-standing distortions rather than exacerbate them.
It is also worth recalling that Ladakh’s marginalisation did not begin in 2019; it ended then. For decades, the region remained politically peripheral, economically neglected, and administratively distant within the erstwhile state. That history is often conveniently forgotten when current progress is dismissed. Development cannot be evaluated in abstraction; it must be measured against baseline conditions. By that measure, Ladakh’s trajectory since August 2019 is unequivocally upward.
Public figures carry a responsibility to ground their statements in evidence. Sweeping claims of “doom” do not withstand scrutiny when weighed against electrification, connectivity, healthcare, education, tourism, and governance outcomes. Disagreement over future institutional arrangements is legitimate, but denial of present realities is not.
Ladakh today is not without challenges, nor are its aspirations fully met. But it is demonstrably better connected, better powered, better funded, and more confident than at any point in its recent history. Its people articulate their demands openly and peacefully, secure in the belief that the constitutional framework of India will respond.
Far from serving as a cautionary tale, Ladakh stands as a counter-example-one that challenges entrenched assumptions about political reorganisation. It shows that when regions are trusted with agency and supported with resources, progress follows. Any serious discussion about Jammu’s future must engage with this evidence, not dismiss it.
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