Kashmir, Class War, and the Fall of Pakistan’s Military Regime
Author’s Note:
In the wake of the April 22 attack on civilians in Kashmir, I revisited the deeper forces behind Pakistan’s political and military crises. This essay explores the roots of the partition, the role of jihadist violence, and the revolutionary promise within Pakistan’s working class and that of the region. It is also a tribute to the late Tarek Fatah—secularist, Marxist, and unwavering defender of Indian Civilization.
From Baisaran to Barracks
They came seeking solace in the serene beauty of Kashmir’s Baisaran meadow—families, friends, and newlyweds from across India and Nepal.
Among them was Indian Navy Lieutenant Vinay Narwal, 26, honeymooning after his April wedding. Shailesh Kalathiya, 44, a bank officer from Gujarat, was celebrating his birthday with loved ones. Others had journeyed from Andhra Pradesh to bask in the highland tranquility. Then came the bullets.
On April 22, militants disguised in army fatigues opened fire on the tourists, killing 26 and wounding 17. The Resistance Front—an alias for the Pakistan-based Lashkar-e-Taiba—claimed responsibility. Victims included Hindus, a Christian, and at least one Muslim. One of the most peaceful corners of Kashmir became the site of one of the deadliest anti-civilian attacks in recent memory.
Partition’s Poisoned Legacy
This latest atrocity is a symptom of a much older crisis—a festering wound left by the 1947 partition of British India, when colonialism gave way to communalism. In that historic rupture, 15 million were displaced and over a million killed. Kashmir—then a Muslim-majority princely state ruled by a Hindu monarch—opted for accession to India in exchange for military protection. That decision set off the first of three major Indo-Pakistani wars. It also permanently destabilized the region.
To this day, Kashmir remains divided and contested. India—the largest democracy in the world—and Pakistan—the most parasitic military oligarchy in the world—each govern part of the territory and claim all of it. Militant groups, many aligned with transnational jihadist networks, weaponize the conflict in religious terms.
Organizations like Lashkar-e-Taiba and Jaish-e-Mohammed portray Kashmir not just as “occupied” Muslim land, but as a frontline in a global Islamic struggle. These narratives often obscure the more complex social and political dynamics at play—especially the class contradictions within Pakistan itself.
Pakistan: A Construct Built on Contradiction
The creation of Pakistan was not the inevitable outcome of Muslim identity politics, but the product of imperialist maneuvering after WWII. It was built on the two-nation theory—the idea that Hindus and Muslims could not coexist in a pluralist democracy. But that theory collapsed almost immediately under the weight of internal contradictions: ethnic tensions, regional rebellions, and class struggle.
The Pakistani ruling class—particularly its military-industrial elite—has maintained power through a toxic combination of religious nationalism, military despotism, and foreign dependence. The army, often described as a state within a state, has dominated politics since the country’s inception. Its role in fostering jihadist groups is well-documented—from harboring Osama bin Laden in Abbottabad to bankrolling Taliban factions in Afghanistan.
Pakistan’s ISI (Inter-Services Intelligence) is infamous for its double games—supporting the U.S. war on terror while nurturing the very groups it claims to fight.
In short: Pakistan’s capitalist rulers have repeatedly used Islamism as a tool for domestic control and regional expansion. And the people of Pakistan, as well as the oppressed peoples of Bengal and Baluchistan, have paid the price.
Yet resistance exists. From the teachers’ protests in Baluchistan to the feminist uprisings of Aurat March and the student movements in Punjab, ordinary Pakistanis have long defied the regime’s authority. These struggles are often invisible in Western media, but they form the backbone of any hope for revolutionary transformation.
The Revolutionary Vision of Tarek Fatah
One of the clearest voices calling this out was the late Tarek Fatah—a Pakistani-born journalist, Marxist, and secularist who spent most of his later life in Canada. Fatah fiercely opposed political Islam and the military domination of Pakistan. He believed the country’s identity was fundamentally flawed—rooted in sectarian separatism rather than pluralist culture. He never gave up hope for a united, secular subcontinent.
“I’m an Indian born in Pakistan,” he often said.
He saw the partition not as destiny, but as tragedy—and he devoted his life to fighting the ideological justifications behind it.
I first encountered Tarek’s work in 2015 through a TED Talk he gave while recovering from cancer. Speaking from a wheelchair, he denounced global jihadism with the urgency of a revolutionary and the clarity of a Marxist. We corresponded occasionally over the years. In one message, I encouraged him to write a book on dialectical materialism—he frequently spoke of the importance of maintaining a “long view” of history. Though a late-life convert to Islam, Tarek never disavowed his Marxist roots. He was proud that his grandfather was a member of the Communist Party of Pakistan.
Tarek died in April 2023. He didn’t live to see the events of October 7 or the more recent upheavals across the world. Thus, I feel it is an obligation to continue his work, by recalling that Indian civilization is as ancient as the rest and best. Tarek often noted how India was the one civilization Muslim invaders and conquistadors could not destroy. What happened to Egypt’s original language and culture? Where are Egypt’s Coptic Christians? What happened to Zoroastrianism in Iran? And yet, Indian civilization and its prime religion persist and continue.
Oh, and there’s Israel, too. Tarek was a friend of Israel and loved India with all. Had he lived, I have no doubt which side he’d be on. He believed deeply in the resilience of Indian civilization and in the potential of the subcontinent’s working class to rise above nationalism, religious division, and colonial legacies.
What Must Be Done
It’s tempting to get lost in the weeds of geopolitics—blaming this or that state actor, dissecting the connections between terror groups, secret services, and foreign backers. But some truths are plain:
Osama Bin Laden was found hiding in Pakistan.
Many of the 9/11 hijackers transited through Pakistani territory.
Pakistan remains the Afghan Taliban’s primary patron, other than China, who is also Pakistan’s imperial boss.
India, for all its flaws, is not the engine of jihadist terror or military parasitism in the region.
Imperial powers—especially the United States—continue to adopt a cynical posture. As the conflict heats up, many in Washington and Brussels express concern not for the lives lost or the people caught in the crossfire, but for the “stability” of a region they long ago abandoned to reactionary forces. They complain that a new war would distract from their imperial efforts in Gaza, Ukraine, or Taiwan. What they truly fear is not another war—but the revolutionary consequence of one.
A Turning Point for South Asia?
A decisive military defeat of Pakistan’s ruling class—delivered not (entirely) by foreign intervention but by the Pakistani working class emboldened by their rulers’ failures—would be a turning point for the region. It would strike a blow not only against religious fascism and anti-Semitic jihadism, but also against the imperial game-playing that keeps South Asia divided and its working and farming classes impoverished and destitute.
India cannot and should not try to overthrow the Pakistani state. But should Pakistan’s rulers suffer a military setback that weakens their grip, it would inspire the Pakistani masses to rise up and finish the job—to overthrow the capitalists, dismantle jihadist networks worldwide, and reclaim their place in history in leading the way towards a united Indian subcontinent from Baluchistan to Chittagong.
That is the hope. That was Tarek Fatah’s hope—or as he would’ve said: “En shalla.”