Between tourism, revenue and a troubled society.
Obeida Ashraf
First thing first, no religion supports or propagates sharaab (alcohal)consumption, yet many people belonging to every religion consume it, more so, most of the political class consume it privately, and discourage it publicly. The debate over sharaab in Jammu and Kashmir has once again exposed the strange contradictions that define modern politics in the region. Liquor shops exist, licenses are issued, taxes are collected, tourists are served, hotels operate bars, and yet every few months, political outrage over sharaab returns to the center stage. What emerges is not merely a moral debate over drinking. It is something deeper, the politics of selective modernity, selective morality, and selective outrage. It is, in many ways,tipple politics.
Recently, Omar Abdullah stated that there was no mention of liquor prohibition in his party manifesto and therefore there was no question of banning alcohol. At the same time, he criticized previous governments for allegedly opening liquor outlets in every chowk (in gali gali) and pushing youth toward addiction. The statement immediately triggered debate because it reflected the central contradiction of governance in Kashmir: governments want the revenue and tourism benefits associated with alcohol, but they also want to publicly distance themselves from the social consequences that follow.
Sharaab in Jammu and Kashmir has never been an ordinary administrative issue. It is tied to religion, culture, identity, tourism, public morality, and increasingly, youth distress. Unlike many metropolitan regions where liquor is treated largely as a lifestyle commodity, Kashmir views it through a far more emotional and civilizational lens. Even those who personally support individual freedoms often remain uncomfortable with the aggressive commercialization of sharaab culture in a Muslim-majority society already facing drug abuse, unemployment, and psychological stress.
Yet politics rarely addresses the issue honestly. No major political party openly campaigns for widespread liquor expansion. Equally, very few are prepared to implement complete prohibition. As a result, governments remain trapped in a convenient middle space, publicly expressing concern over alcoholism while quietly depending on excise revenues and tourism economics. This creates a dual language of governance, moral language for the public and financial logic for the administration.
The irony becomes sharper when politicians condemn earlier governments for opening liquor shops while continuing the same policy architecture themselves. If liquor expansion was socially destructive yesterday, citizens naturally ask why it remains institutionally acceptable today. If alcoholism is genuinely harming society, then why is policy discussion reduced only to whether prohibition appeared in an election manifesto?
Manifestos are political documents, not moral constitutions. Governments routinely take decisions not explicitly written in election promises. Environmental conservation, traffic regulations, taxation changes, and public health measures are often introduced without manifesto references. Therefore, reducing the entire alcohol debate to manifesto legality appears more like political defense than substantive engagement with public concern.
At the same time, outright prohibition is not a magical solution either. History from various parts of the world shows that complete bans often generate black markets, smuggling networks, bootlegging mafias, and corruption. Illegal alcohol can become even more dangerous than regulated alcohol. Therefore, the issue cannot be simplified into a binary choice between total freedom and total prohibition.
“The debate over alcohol in Kashmir reflects a deeper struggle over its future identity amid rising tourism and commercialization. The region cannot indefinitely maintain a contradiction between public moral conservatism and pragmatic economic policies. While exploiting “tipple politics” provides temporary political convenience, it lacks a coherent social vision; therefore, leaders must officially deliberate and settle on a definitive societal direction.”
What Jammu and Kashmir perhaps needs is a mature social policy rather than emotional political theatre.The real concern today is not elite hotel tourism alone. It is the normalization of substance culture among ordinary youth. Across urban and semi-urban areas, there is visible anxiety among families regarding rising addiction patterns, including narcotics, synthetic drugs, and alcohol dependence. Many parents fear that commercial visibility itself creates gradual social normalization. A liquor outlet at every marketplace corner changes the cultural atmosphere of a society, especially one already struggling with unemployment, alienation, and declining community engagement.
This is where tipple politics becomes dangerous. Political parties selectively amplify moral outrage when in opposition and selectively defend administrative practicality when in power. The result is policy confusion. Society receives mixed signals. Governments condemn addiction while simultaneously expanding the ecosystem around it. Citizens are told alcoholism is harmful, yet alcohol remains economically useful for the state.
Tourism further complicates the matter. Successive governments have increasingly projected Kashmir as a global tourist destination. Tourism markets rarely remain culturally neutral. Along with hotels and resorts come demands for nightlife, bars, and entertainment economies. Governments fear that excessive restrictions may discourage sections of visitors and investors. Therefore, alcohol quietly becomes part of the broader commercial tourism package even when public discourse remains morally conservative.
But Kashmir cannot simply copy tourism models from Goa, Thailand, or European destinations without understanding its own social context. Every society negotiates modernity differently. Development cannot succeed by humiliating local cultural sensitivities. Equally, cultural protection cannot survive merely through symbolic outrage while deeper socioeconomic crises remain unresolved.
The larger tragedy is that political energy often focuses more on symbolic debates than structural reforms. Substance abuse among youth is connected not only to availability but also to despair, unemployment, anxiety, social fragmentation, and absence of meaningful engagement. A society cannot arrest addiction merely by closing shops if hopelessness itself remains open twenty-four hours a day.
Therefore, the alcohol debate in Jammu and Kashmir requires intellectual honesty from all sides.Those advocating prohibition must explain how they would prevent black markets and illegal networks. Those defending regulated sale must explain why aggressive expansion is necessary in a socially sensitive region. And governments must stop speaking in contradictory voices, condemning alcohol culturally while monetizing it administratively.
The people of Jammu and Kashmir deserve clarity, not calibrated ambiguity.
Ultimately, the question is not simply whether sharaab should exist or not. The deeper question is this, what kind of society does Kashmir wish to become in the age of commercialization, tourism, and market-driven governance? A society cannot endlessly oscillate between moral conservatism in speeches and economic pragmatism in policy.Tipple politics may offer temporary political convenience. But it cannot substitute for a coherent social vision. Therefore sit down, discuss and decide once for all.
( Author is a teacher by profession . 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”)
