From Leh’s streets to Delhi’s doorstep: Ladakh’s fight for identity rekindled

September 24, 2025, will be remembered in Ladakh for years, the culmination of a six-year struggle for statehood and Sixth Schedule protections. It was on this day that youthful anger, long held in check, finally spilled onto the streets of Leh. The spark came when two senior hunger strikers, who had been peacefully beseeching constitutional safeguards, were shifted to Sonam Norbu Hospital after their health sharply declined on Tuesday (September 23).

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The following day, the Leh Apex Body youth wing called for a shutdown and a peaceful protest. But by midday, some youths had broken away: burning political party offices, vandalising the Hill Council premises, attacking vehicles. The BJP office was set ablaze; law enforcement responded with baton charges, tear gas, and eventually live fire. The escalation was sudden, brutal. Four young people lost their lives; scores more were injured. Reports range from 45 to more than 70 wounded, including many police personnel.

The bodies of the four protesters killed in Tuesday’s police firing were handed over to their families on Thursday. The four have been identified as Tsewang Tharchin (46) of Skurbuchan; Stanzin Namgyal (24) of Igoo; Jigmet Dorjay (25) of Kharnakling; and Rinchen Dadul (21) of Hanu.

Two eras, one struggle

A comparative lens highlights striking parallels between 1989 and 2025. In 1989, the agitation for Union Territory status witnessed the deaths of three young men—Nawang Rinchen of Sankar, Tsering Stobdan of Durbuk, and Tsewang Dorjey of Saboo—who were killed in police firing. Their martyrdom, commemorated annually on August 27 in Leh, crystallised Ladakh’s demand for political recognition and autonomy. Similarly, in 2025, the potential for loss of life looms over protests for constitutional safeguards, as already 4 deaths have been reported so far, and 70 people have been injured

Both historical moments are bound by a common thread: the assertion of Ladakh’s identity and autonomy within the Indian union, and the costs borne by its youth in the pursuit of political recognition. Yet, the current phase appears more expansive in scope and intensity. Unlike 1989, when demands were primarily region-specific, the 2025 agitation is embedded in broader anxieties about democratic participation, environmental sustainability, and cultural preservation under the Union Territory framework.

The political dynamics surrounding Ladakh have undergone a decisive transformation over the past four decades. In the 1980s, Ladakh’s mobilisations were directed against what was seen as domination by the Kashmir-based administration of Jammu and Kashmir. The central grievance then was regional neglect demands focused on separation from Kashmir’s political hold and securing Scheduled Tribe status and regional autonomy. The Ladakh Autonomous Hill Development Councils (LAHDCs), established in Leh in 1995 and in Kargil in 2003, emerged as a compromise between the Union government and local aspirations.

But the contours of the present struggle are starkly different. With Ladakh carved out as a Union Territory in 2019, there is no “middle layer” of Srinagar to contest against. Today, the confrontation is directly with New Delhi, and the grievances have shifted from regional marginalisation to questions of constitutional safeguards, political representation, and protection of land, jobs, and cultural identity. In short, the fight has moved from seeking distance from Kashmir to negotiating dignity within the Indian Union.

More than just a tragedy

A movement that had held to nonviolence for years was transformed, in many eyes, from a disciplined campaign into a volatile eruption. Still, this day is more than just a tragedy: it is proof of years of deferred hopes. The deaths have been mourned across Ladakh as “a waste of precious lives,” but they also sharpen the question: what finally will the government do to make good on its promises?

Over the past few years, Ladakhi youth and leadership have been driven into the streets by a growing sense that dialogue and promises have yielded too little. Despite more than eight rounds of talks with the Union Home Ministry and the formation of high-powered committees, many in Ladakh believe the demands for statehood, inclusion under the Sixth Schedule, protection of land and identity, and meaningful legislative power have never concretely progressed.

From hunger strikes and padayatras to formal sit-ins and repeated formal invitations for talks, the leadership has engaged with the Centre in numerous ways only to find that key demands are either deferred, diluted, or ignored. The Centre has introduced some policies, for example, a domicile law, reservation regulations, and steps to ensure locals’ employment, yet many see these as partial or insufficient without stronger constitutional guarantees.

Frustration among youth

This disconnect has bred frustration among young Ladakhis, who see that though promises are made, implementation lags, and many core demands remain unaddressed. When peaceful forms of protest or negotiation do not seem to yield results, anger builds, especially when symbols of authority appear unresponsive. The deaths on September 24 are thus rooted in years of waiting, in the belief that appeals for recognition of identity and constitutional safeguards are more than political talking points; they are existential.

The abrogation of Articles 370 and 35A in August 2019, and the subsequent bifurcation of the erstwhile state of Jammu and Kashmir into the Union Territories of Jammu & Kashmir and Ladakh, was received in strikingly different ways across the region. In Leh, the development was celebrated as a long-awaited “victory,” fulfilling decades-old demands for separation from Kashmir’s political dominance. In contrast, Kargil perceived the move as a “dark day for democracy,” registering sharp opposition and mobilising against what it saw as a unilateral imposition.

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The possibility of a united political front between Leh and Kargil remained remote in the immediate aftermath of 2019. The two districts articulated divergent priorities: Kargil’s leadership pressed for the restoration of statehood and Article 370, while Leh, realising that the Union Territory arrangement fell short of expectations, began to shift its demands toward constitutional safeguards under the Sixth Schedule and the establishment of a separate legislature, with the support and collaboration of Kargil.

Echoes of past agitations

This is not the first time Ladakhis have mobilised to assert their political rights. In the 1980s, a series of agitations were staged demanding Union Territory status, Scheduled Tribe recognition, and greater representation in the Jammu and Kashmir Assembly. These struggles were marked by sacrifice: the deaths of Ladakhi youth during protests became defining moments of the movement. The eventual outcome was the recognition of Ladakh as a Scheduled Tribe area and the establishment of the Ladakh Autonomous Hill Development Councils (LAHDCs), first in Leh in 1995 and later in Kargil in 2003.

The roots of these aspirations go further back. In 1947, when Jammu and Kashmir debated accession to India or Pakistan, Buddhist leaders from Leh unequivocally supported integration with India, diverging from the dominant sentiment in the Valley. By the 1960s, Ladakhi leaders began advocating for a centrally administered territory, inspired by administrative models like Arunachal Pradesh. Although Article 370 made Union Territory status unviable at the time, the compromise solution, the LAHDCs, was accepted as a mechanism for regional autonomy. Importantly, Ladakhi leaders communicated to the Rajiv Gandhi government in the late 1980s that their demand for a Union Territory remained alive, even if deferred.

Heightened stakes and risks

Contemporary Ladakhi movements, such as Sonam Wangchuk’s hunger strikes and month-long padyatra, echo these historical struggles but also reflect a heightened sense of disillusionment. Despite the constitutional reorganisation of 2019, many Ladakhis feel excluded from meaningful decision-making, particularly on land, jobs, and resources. The escalation from peaceful demonstrations to hunger strikes and then to protests on the streets of Leh reveals accumulated frustration with the Centre’s silence. Wangchuk himself ended his fast with an appeal to preserve non-violence, urging protesters not to squander human lives.

As the struggle has moved from Kashmir’s shadow to Delhi’s doorstep, the stakes and risks have only sharpened. The current movement, centred on demands for inclusion under the Sixth Schedule and the establishment of a legislature, has generated unprecedented public mobilisation. Hunger strikes, padyatras, and mass protests reflect accumulated disillusionment with the Union government’s handling of Ladakh since 2019. The deaths of protestors or even the spectre of such a tragedy risk changing the tenor of the agitation and forcing Delhi into a defensive position.

The proposed talks between Ladakhi leadership and the Centre on October 6 were expected to offer a platform to chart a way forward. Yet, the agitation’s intensification could set back dialogue. If the Centre perceives the movement as confrontational rather than consultative, it may respond with delay or rigidity. Conversely, if Delhi takes cognisance of the sacrifices and the depth of discontent, it could open the door to a more conciliatory approach, including reconsideration of Sixth Schedule protections.

Double challenge for Ladakh

For Ladakhi leadership, the challenge ahead is twofold. First, they must calm a restless public that increasingly feels betrayed by Delhi’s silence. Leaders across Leh and Kargil are aware of the volatile memory of 1989, when young lives were lost to police bullets, and they have repeatedly appealed for non-violence. Preserving the peaceful character of the movement is not only a moral imperative but also a strategic necessity if Ladakh is to retain political legitimacy on the national stage.

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Second, the leadership must find a balance between hard bargaining with Delhi and ensuring that the agitation does not slip into radicalisation. An uncontrolled escalation could fracture the fragile unity between Leh and Kargil, giving the Centre leeway to divide and delay.

The talks scheduled for October 6 between the Ladakhi leadership and the Home Ministry now face uncertainty, with the ongoing unrest raising doubts over whether the meeting will proceed or if the violence has already set back the negotiation process. The approach, the credibility of both Delhi and Ladakhi leadership is on the line. The Centre’s response in the coming weeks will likely determine whether the Sixth Schedule demand evolves into a negotiated settlement or whether Ladakh’s protests deepen into another long, unresolved chapter of discontent.