Apples & Olives: Mourning Ecocide in Kashmir and Palestine

Zulm is a word used across Arabic, Hindi, and Urdu that translates to "oppression" or "cruelty." In Kashmir, the word is more specific: it's used by locals to refer to the cruelty, exploitation, and ecocide committed by the Indian and Pakistani governments across each side of the territory. 

Kashmir is the northernmost region of South Asia, a disputed territory straddling the Himalayan Mountain range. Kashmir was a princely state under the British Empire until the 1947 India-Pakistan Partition—one of the largest forcible displacements in the world, second only to World War II—which resulted in the mass religious cleansing of Muslims and refugee crises. Soon after, Kashmir became a primary contention between the two countries. The British divided South Asia on religious lines, but as Kashmir was a Muslim-majority princely state with a Hindu king, it was left in an unclear position. However, as a resource-rich area with an envious location that connected it to both South and East Asia, it was eyed by both India and Pakistan.

Following the 1947 invasion of Kashmir by Pakistan, Kashmir's king agreed to join India so long as special autonomy was given to the state, which was codified in Article 370. Pakistan and India have never settled the dispute, with the Line of Control (the de factor border) being heavily militarized, and in 2019, India's prime minister Narendra Modi struck down the court verdict removing Kashmir's semi-autonomy, with no warning. With no agreed-upon arrangement or autonomy given to the people of Kashmir, the region has been torn apart: most of old Kashmir is present-day Jammu and Kashmir (J&K) and Ladakh, all controlled by India; while the other two provinces, Azad Kashmir and Gilgit-Balistan are under Pakistani control. There's even a small sliver of uninhabited Kashmiri territory claimed by China (but disputed by India), called Aksai Chin. In short, Kashmir has splintered into different occupied regions through multiple occupations. 

Due to the overlapping struggles between Kashmir and Palestine—including ecocide and environmental destruction, resistance movements, digital abuse, and the Western media's role in covering up both struggles—Kashmir has come to hold an additional colloquial name: the Gaza of South Asia.

Amid increasing genocide in Gaza, mobilizing solidarity between Kashmir and Gaza has gained steam, but the two occupied areas have a longstanding culture of solidarity and shared experience. The latter half of the 20^th century was turbulent for Kashmir, as another war for the territory broke out in 1965 between India and Pakistan. Later, in 1972, the Line of Control was established. Throughout these violent outbreaks, many Kashmiris became displaced or were forced to migrate for economic reasons. "My family had to flee to Pakistani Kashmir, and from there, my family had to leave to go to Pakistan because we had nothing. We had to leave our family members and our culture—I can't even speak my own language, my first language is Urdu, which isn't the first language of my family," said Khawaja Aneeq Kakroo, who goes by Aneeq, a Cambridge-based Kashmiri activist who relocated from Islamabad to the UK one year ago. 

By the 1970s, Kashmiri nationalism was becoming more organized and, in some cases, armed, with groups like the Jammu and Kashmir Liberation Front forming in both India and Pakistan. Meanwhile, a ceasefire agreement was made between India and Pakistan that (at least formally) excluded Kashmiri regional voices. By the 1980s and 1990s, protests in Kashmir began to spike as militancy groups gained traction and the separatist movement was articulated in high-level forums. In 1989, insurgency formally began in Indian-controlled Kashmir, marked by mass protests and several JKFL-led attacks.

"We drew inspiration from the Intifada in Palestine," said K, a pseudonymized Kashmiri journalist based in J&K. "Both are fighting a war between an elephant and an ant, but we are fighting—that is the most important part." The first Intifada, or uprising, that K referred to took place in the late 1980s and early 1990s in Palestine. And though Gaza and Kashmir are unique contexts, solidarity between the two communities has only grown in the past few decades, recognizing the overlapping nature of their experiences of occupation and cruelty.

The occupations of Kashmir and Gaza have, like all colonial projects, been multipronged—but ecocide, or the act of cultural genocide through the destruction of the natural environment, is an increasing avenue of violence in both areas.

Kashmir and Palestine are both trapped in conflicts in which land is being occupied and forcibly taken from Indigenous communities, and both states have particular relationships with the fruits of their lands.

In Palestine, olive trees speckle rural lands and the front yards of urban and suburban houses. Its prevalence in the region, combined with its steadfastness and longevity, has made the olive tree a symbol of Palestine and the Palestinian people. Earlier in the year, reports came out of olive trees having to be cut down and burnt by displaced Gazans for warmth and survival, with testimonies from Gazans communicating heartbreak and desperation, many hoping to return to their crops.

"Our hearts burn over our lands," Nisreen Abu Daqqa from the Palestinian town of Khuza'a told Al Jazeera in 2023. "We wait all year long for the olive season, which is the most beautiful season, but the Israelis have deliberately burned our trees using their missiles and tank shells." These accounts mirrored many of the plights of Kashmir's apple farmers.

In Kashmir, apple farming has been the backbone of the regional economy since its inception, as roughly half of Kashmir is supported by apple farming (directly or indirectly). More than just an economic driver, however, apples have come to be synonymous with Kashmir: it's a source of pride for farmers and an avenue for economic independence. The lands upon which Kashmiri apple orchards sit have often been passed down through generations, even amid internal displacements. J&K has the lowest literacy rate in India, with shaky education infrastructure putting particular dependency on illiquid assets. Generations of livelihoods have been built on agricultural work.

Earlier in 2024, the Indian government intensified its "development" plan for Kashmir, announcing railway systems that cut through Kashmir and connect it to India—all at the expense of millions of apple farmers. "Kashmiris do not call these projects development," said K. "Violence and exploitation are daily realities. Kashmiri is a water/hydro powerhouse, and I, right now, am without electricity. Our resources are sold to India to support India. They outsource the construction of our resources, then they try to sell it back to us." He continued: "Ecocide is happening because people don't have a say—the control of territory is happening elsewhere." 

The Indian government's aims of "connectivity" between India and Kashmir are shrouded in ill-intent: Kashmir has not asked to be part of India and has instead resisted joining the country. But in connecting the Kashmir Valley to the rest of India, the Indian government's wider goal of assimilating Kashmir into India becomes closer to reality. "Kashmiris give meaning to the land. It becomes more powerful when the people are separating because humans are territorial—if this patch of land is gone, where do we go?" said K, who spoke with several apple farmers in the beginning stages of the railway projects. "I asked one farmer, 'What does this land mean to you?' and he told me, 'Even my son could betray me, but this land never will. I planted this tree with my own hands and took care of it for almost 10 years before it began bearing fruits, just like a child.'" 

The steadfastness, slow growth, and longevity of the apple tree, as well as the way Kashmir has adopted the apple as a wider cultural symbol, mirrors that of Gaza's olive tree. Both India and Israel are enacting ecocidal policies that not only undermine the agricultural economies of each land but attack the spiritual connection between Indigenous communities and horticulture. 

The very note of spirituality and belief is a key underpinning of the conflicts in both regions. More specifically, Islamophobia is a driving force in both countries' colonial policymaking. Modern conflict in Kashmir began because of its religious demographics, and while initial hopes for Kashmir under Prime Minister Jawarharlal Nehru's India were to create a pluralistic and autonomy-granting state, the rise of Hindu Nationalism—which proclaimed India as a Hindu state and Islam as a foreign presence—saw Kashmir as needing to be assimilated and their resistance eliminated. Similarly, the Zionist claim that Israel is a "Jewish state" and that Indigenous Gazans have less claim to the land because they are not Jewish, echoes this very same anti-Muslimness. 

Moreover, the presence of armed Islam-affiliated militants in both Gaza and Kashmir has led to ongoing justification of brutal asymmetric killings and militarism against Gaza and Kashmir (in both India and Pakistan). For the people of Palestine and Kashmir, identities as Muslim-majority regions are also a "fundamental link," as K puts it. "Palestine is also a sacred land for us Muslims. Prior to Mecca, we prayed towards Jerusalem. Also as victims of colonial occupation, we are further connected to the way of life in Palestine. There is so much solidarity and sympathy with the people."

For Kashmiris, voicing these experiences of violence and loss is difficult: Kashmir has experienced widespread internet blackouts on-and-off for the past five years, often being cut off in response to protests or unrest. Coverage of Kashmiri farmers' plights is thus increasingly impossible, reflecting the same "gag orders" placed on Palestinians living under Israeli occupation. Particularly since the recent increased aggression against Gaza, Israel has relied on internet blackouts as a cut-off measure, preventing Palestinians from sending their plights to the outside world and connecting with others. In 2022 and 2023, the Indian government was even outed as having used Israel-developed spyware to target journalists, receiving widespread criticism from anti-digital censorship organizations.

While the Indian government has made repeated attempts at violently squashing Kashmiri resistance, there was, at least at one point, a level of acceptance for pro-Palestinian demonstrations in J&K throughout the 20^th century. However, since the start of the 21^st century, India has become increasingly close to Israel and increasingly violent towards Kashmir, especially within the past decade under the intensifying Hindu-nationalist regime of Narendra Modi. To this day, India continues to export arms, rockets, and explosives to Israel. 

"Every year, we would celebrate Quds Day in solidarity with the Palestinian people," said K. "You can see graffiti on the streets, people in keffiyeh. But now, these protests are not allowed. The Indian state is aware that it could begin as a protest for Palestine, but [one day] become [one] for Kashmir, because Kashmiris see the parallels between India and Israel." 

Indeed, just as India and Israel have mirrored one another's tactics in ecocide, exchanged technologies, and seen themselves as linked, resistance movements must also be attuned to one another and understand that anti-coloniality is a liberation struggle against all occupations and genocides. "Kashmir and Palestine are highlighting the responsibility of the global community to solve," said Aneeq. "We have been given so many promises from the international community but never delivered."

Borders under occupation mean very little: both K and Aneeq identified as Kashmiri, rather than Indian or Pakistani. Just as Kashmiri resistance and identity extend beyond the borders of India and Pakistan, Kashmiri solidarity expands beyond the territory and toward the liberation movement of Palestine. The opposite of zulm is azadi, or freedom. "We seek azadi from zulm," said Aneeq. Though protests are virtually barred across Jammu and Kashmir, solidarity remains, as does hope. 

"I don't see people as Kashmiri or Palestinian; I see people as exploiter and exploited. This is why they are connected—Kashmir, Palestine, and struggles elsewhere, too," said Aneeq. "The more connected we are with the global movement, the more hope—no matter how strong an empire, it will fall. Palestine and Kashmir will get their azadi."