The Narendra Modi government never misses an opportunity to assert that “normalcy has returned” in Indian-occupied Jammu and Kashmir (IIOJK). Glossy commercials, social media campaigns, and official briefings depict a valley alive with tourists, wealth, and tranquility. Beyond the propaganda, the reality on the ground reveals a story of breakdown, dread, and despair. In September 2025, only about 9,000 tourists visited Kashmir, a shocking 90% decrease from over one lakh during the same period last year. The figures are terrible for a region where tourism supports roughly 70% of local jobs, including shikara operators, hotel personnel, craft dealers, and pony owners. The so-called “normalcy” has vanished, replaced by vacant houseboats, silent bazaars, and idle taxis.
The fall was precipitated by the Basiram incident in Pahalgam earlier this year, which killed 25 guests and a local pony operator. In the days that followed, over nine out of ten hotel reservations were cancelled, and operators on Dal Lake reported losing more than 80% of their revenue. Shikara proprietors who used to earn over ₹1,000 a day now earn only ₹200-₹250, which is insufficient to cover fuel expenses. For many of families, tourism was more than just a source of income. Handicraft dealers, taxi drivers, and tour guides are currently facing an economic vacuum. One houseboat owner in Srinagar lamented, “We have no tourists, no income, and no hope. Only Delhi’s claims remain afloat, not our boats.”
This growing gap between rhetoric and reality represents what political economists refer to as “development under occupation,” a model in which economic activity is controlled to provide the appearance of success while hiding systemic restrictions. Under such conditions, development benefits power rather than people. The Modi government’s tourist narrative reflects what theorists of authoritarian development, like as Edward Said and Sara Roy, warn against: exploiting selective growth to legitimize power. The spectacle of tourism in Kashmir is thus not an indicator of peace, but rather a tool of statecraft, intended to normalize military authority in the eyes of the world.
At the same time, Kashmir’s current position is consistent with what political theorists refer to as “developmental authoritarianism.” This government paradigm relies on economic performance and infrastructure projects to replace political credibility, claiming progress while suppressing opposition. The Modi administration aims to present an image of a “new Kashmir,” where affluence replaces dissent, by developing highways, hotels, and tunnels. However, like in other authoritarian regimes, such expansion is not inclusive. It rewards political allegiance, consolidates power, and uses the economy as a propaganda instrument. Tourism is portrayed as a symbol of peace, but the ground reality of poverty, unemployment, and stifled voices portrays a story of exclusion.
Despite this terrible reality, New Delhi continues to claim “record tourist inflows.” However, statistics from India’s Ministry of Tourism suggests otherwise. Tourist arrivals in Jammu and Kashmir fell drastically in 2025, with hotel occupancy dropping below 20% in popular places such as Srinagar, Gulmarg, and Pahalgam. The government’s response, which includes more public relations efforts and contrived photo opportunities, does little to address what locals call “a collapse hiding behind a smile.” Since the removal of Article 370 in 2019, the Modi government has linked tourism to peace, citing photographs of holidaymakers on Dal Lake as proof that the region is “normal.” However, a few well choreographed events cannot disguise systemic instability, repression, and an occupied population’s deep-seated discontent.
Every vacant shikara, closed handicraft shop, and lifeless market symbolizes Delhi’s failure.
Kashmir’s economic asphyxia under India’s military occupation has reached a stage where even natural beauty cannot entice visitors. The place that was once touted as “Heaven on Earth” is now facing a bleak spiral into uncertainty. Even as Delhi celebrates new highways, tunnels, and “smart city” slogans, ordinary Kashmiris are still excluded from decision-making. This shows a deeper postcolonial reliance in which the occupied region is absorbed into the occupier’s economy while losing agency and autonomy. Locals claim that huge tourism developments benefit outside investors and political elites rather than the valley’s residents. The consequences are obvious everywhere: economic estrangement, societal unrest, and an increasing sense of betrayal.
Across the Line of Control, Azad Jammu and Kashmir (AJK) provides a sharp contrast. Despite its tiny economy, AJK’s tourist concept is based on community engagement, local harmony, and environmental sustainability. Pakistani projects such as the Neelum Valley tourism corridor, Muzaffarabad eco-tourism programs, and the promotion of cultural heritage sites prioritize empowerment over exploitation. In IIOJK, however, India takes a top-down strategy, employing tourism as a political instrument to conceal occupation and portray “peace” for foreign consumption. The facade is disintegrating, demonstrating that economic revitalization cannot coexist with political repression.
Truth and responsibility, not another press conference or catchphrase about “revival,” are what Kashmir actually needs. If the Indian government truly cared about Kashmiris’ well-being, it would start by permitting independent reporting and data openness on tourism and livelihoods. It would reinstate freedom of movement and expression rather than continued surveillance and control. It would involve local people in decision-making rather than simply using them as backgrounds for propaganda. Most importantly, it would address the political issue that is at the root of Kashmir’s instability. Without justice and peace, no amount of marketing will entice visitors or restore respect to the valley’s residents.
The drop in Kashmir tourism reveals the Modi government’s broader failure: its inability to turn rhetoric into reality. A valley once bustling with life, culture, and business now stands motionless, trapped between military and mismanagement. India’s so-called “new normal” is actually a gasping economy under occupation. From a theoretical standpoint, the issue exemplifies the failure of both the political economy of occupation and developmental authoritarianism, which stress image over inclusion, control over consent. For Pakistan, this moment confirms what has long been obvious: peace cannot be generated via propaganda, and economic rebirth cannot be forced through military domination. Until India recognizes the ground truth and engages in true discussion based on Kashmiris’ rights and aspirations, peace and prosperity will remain elusive, and the shikaras of Dal Lake will continue to float in sorrow.