“In the books of capitalists, the words “love, care, and compassion don’t exist”. They only knowhow to grow business more and earn more, no matter what the situation is. Their formula is simple. Mint more money by any means.”
In the aftermath of the Pahalgam massacre that claimed 26 innocent lives, Kashmir was once again thrust into mourning. But amid the grief and anguish, a more silent, systemic cruelty began to unfold — one driven not by bullets, but by bottom lines.
Reports are coming that airlines, sensing fear and urgency, hiked fares to and from the Valley to three times the usual rates. This was not a logistical necessity. It was a blatant act of profiteering. At a time when families were struggling to reconnect, and humanitarian workers needed access, travel became a luxury. The skies, once a corridor of connection, were priced out of reach. Hotels followed suit in a different way. With a dip in bookings, many began laying off their lowest-paid employees — cooks, cleaners, and support staff — citing “no business” as the reason. These are the very individuals who have sustained Kashmir’s tourism industry through its darkest winters. Yet when crisis struck, they were cast aside without compensation, security, or even basic decency. This isn’t unique to Pahalgam.
“Healing will require more than condemnation of terrorists. It will require a rethinking of our economic ethics. It will require hotel associations and tourism boards to create emergency funds for staff. It will require airlines to cap fares during crises. And it will require our civil society to speak out — not just against terrorism, but against economic injustice too. Because a society that profits from pain is already in crisis. And Kashmir, above all, deserves better.”
It’s a recurring script in capitalist economies worldwide: crises are monetized, and the vulnerable are sacrificed first. What makes it even more painful in Kashmir is that we are a conflict-ridden region where people already live on the margins. A just response to tragedy should have been rooted in solidarity, not in self-interest. The central question isn’t whether businesses should survive — of course they should. But how they survive matters. A system that offloads its losses onto the poor while protecting profits at the top is not just flawed — it is morally bankrupt. Pahalgam was a humanitarian tragedy. But the economic aftermath has revealed another kind of violence: one that plays out quietly in payroll cuts, inflated ticket prices, and broken promises. This is what happens when capitalism forgets compassion — when profit is valued more than people. Healing will require more than condemnation of terrorists. It will require a rethinking of our economic ethics. It will require hotel associations and tourism boards to create emergency funds for staff. It will require airlines to cap fares during crises. And it will require our civil society to speak out — not just against terrorism, but against economic injustice too. Because a society that profits from pain is already in crisis. And Kashmir, above all, deserves better.
(The author a freelancer a teacher and a researcher based in Gowhar Pora Chadoora is also Advisor at The Nature University Kashmir. The views, opinions and conclusions expressed in this article are those of the author and aren’t necessarily in accord with the views of “Kashmir Horizon”)
Dr. Ashraf Zainabi
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