In Gilgit-Baltistan, home to the world’s highest and most majestic peaks, there is a new echo rising, not from the valleys or glaciers, but from the some towns, villages: the voice of unrest, sectarian unease, and a growing disconnect with the state. Once a symbol of peaceful coexistence, cultural diversity, and natural beauty, this region is now sinking into a quagmire of political uncertainty, religious tension, and economic stagnation.

Political Apathy and Administrative Injustice
For years, the people of Gilgit-Baltistan have demanded three fundamental rights: constitutional identity, full provincial status, and equal political representation. But successive governments have either made hollow promises or offered temporary appeasements to keep the population silent.
Today, the legislative assembly is symbolic, the Chief Minister holds limited power, and real decisions are made elsewhere. This centralization of authority has left the region’s youth unemployed, the educated class disillusioned, and political activists worn down. The disconnect between the region and the federation has never felt wider.

A Personal Observation
During a recent week-long visit to Gilgit-Baltistan, accompanied by some important and first-time visitors eager to explore the peace, spirituality, and cultural beauty of the region, I had the opportunity to personally witness the fragile situation unfolding across GB.

What was meant to be a journey of discovery quickly turned into an experience of unrest and disruption. We faced cloudbursts, thunderstorms, and flash floods roaring through the mountain nullahs—reminders of how vulnerable the region is to both climate change and infrastructural neglect.

But beyond nature’s fury, it was the socio-political upheaval that left a deeper impact. For the first time in my travels, I saw female protestors on the on the main CPEC road or KKH, some demanding the release of Awami Action Committee leaders, others voicing serious concerns over clean drinking water, severe electricity shortages, and loadshedding, especially in Hunza-Nagar Valley.

As a host, I felt deeply sorry for my guests, many of whom had never visited this part of Pakistan before. They came looking for harmony, but were met with instability. Despite all these challenges, I tried my level best to ensure their comfort, to entertain, and to find alternative routes and ways to reach the already planned destinations. But even with all my efforts, the sense of unease and disappointment lingered.

This experience reminded me that until the region’s structural and political issues are addressed, even its unmatched natural beauty cannot mask the growing frustration and unrest of its people

The State Responsibility
The state must recognize that Gilgit-Baltistan is not merely a land of mountains and rivers, but a region of proud, conscious, and spiritually sensitive citizens. What they need is justice, dignity, and constitutional inclusion.

The most alarming aspect of the crisis is the complete silence from the federal government and the local leadership of Gilgit-Baltistan. It appears that in the power corridors of Islamabad, there is no one truly listening to this region’s voice.

Silence, in times of public frustration, can be more dangerous than conflict—especially when the people are asking for justice, and the state remains blind and mute.

Final Words
The people of Gilgit-Baltistan have moved beyond demands, they are now in a mode of resistance. If state institutions continue to ignore the mounting grievances, these protests may evolve into a permanent political consciousness, not just for Gilgit-Baltistan, but for the rest of Pakistan.

This is the moment to listen, engage, and rebuild.
Silence is no longer neutral, it has become a threat.