- Jun 10, 2026
- Prasad Peketi
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PIoJK on the Boil: How Britain’s Mirpuri Diaspora Is Putting Pakistan on the Spot
For years, Pakistan’s establishment has tried to keep the international spotlight fixed on Kashmir by accusing India of repression in the Valley. But events in Pakistan ILLEGALLY - occupied Jammu and Kashmir (PIoJK) are now telling a very different story. Across Muzaffarabad, Rawalakot, Mirpur and nearby areas, protests in June 2026 have erupted not because of India, but because local people are angry with Pakistan itself. The immediate triggers are basic enough: steep electricity bills, shortages of essential goods such as flour, and a long-festering sense that decisions affecting their lives are taken elsewhere. What makes this moment especially striking is that sections of the Mirpuri diaspora in Britain, which once echoed Pakistan’s line on Kashmir, are now turning their attention to Islamabad’s own conduct. It is important not to misread these protests. This is not, at least for now, a movement demanding merger with India. It is a backlash against everyday injustice and a political structure that many locals see as stacked against them. The Mangla Dam remains central to that anger. Built in the 1960s on Mirpuri land, it displaced entire communities and sent thousands abroad, yet many in the region still feel they have never received a fair share of the benefits. Electricity generated from their land flows outward, while locals complain of paying heavy tariffs. The political grievance runs even deeper. In the legislative structure of Pakistan, called “AJK”, 12 of the 45 directly elected seats are reserved for so-called Kashmiri refugees living in Pakistan proper. In practice, those seats often strengthen the hand of Pakistan’s mainstream parties rather than local voices. That is why the Joint Awami Action Committee (JAAC) has demanded their removal. Courts in the region have indicated that these seats cannot simply be wished away without constitutional change, which only underlines how tightly the system is locked. When the JAAC called a shutdown on 9 June, Islamabad answered with a familiar script: anti-terror charges, communications blackouts, detentions and lethal force. That response did not calm the situation. If anything, it confirmed what many protesters were already saying about who really holds power. The demographic question also deserves a clearer look, because Pakistan often uses the word “Kashmir” as though it covers one seamless political and cultural reality. It does not. The people of PoJK are not the same as the Valley’s ethnic Kashmiris in Srinagar, with whom international audiences usually associate the Kashmir issue. Much of the population in PIoJK is Pahari-Pothwari and Mirpuri-speaking, with social roots closer to the Potohar belt. That distinction matters. It helps explain why local grievances in PIoJK have their own history and their own political texture. Gilgit-Baltistan shows how different Pakistan’s approach can be in another occupied region. There, demographic change over decades has been far more deliberate and far more visible. A region once dominated by Shia communities saw increasing settlement from Sunni populations brought in from Punjab and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, especially from the 1970s onward. Land allocation, administrative influence and military presence all played a part in changing the balance. PIoJK has not undergone demographic engineering on the same scale, but that should not obscure the depth of alienation now visible on the ground. There is another layer to this crisis, and it is one Pakistan’s establishment would prefer not to discuss openly. Any prolonged unrest in peripheral regions raises uncomfortable questions for the army, especially when troops are deployed against populations that share regional, ethnic or social links with sections of the rank and file. The Pakistan Army remains heavily Punjabi in composition, and that imbalance has long shaped how power is seen across the federation. If resentment in PIoJK continues to grow, it may not immediately produce open dissent within the military, but it could deepen unease in quieter ways. At a time when Pakistan is already grappling with Balochistan Liberation Fighters, economic stress and widening internal fractures, even muted strain inside the security apparatus would matter. The international angle becomes more significant when one looks at the Mirpuri diaspora in Britain. This is not a marginal community. It is large, politically aware and deeply connected to families back in Mirpur and the surrounding areas. Many are descendants of those displaced by the Mangla Dam, and those historical memories have not disappeared with migration. In parts of Bradford, Birmingham, Leeds, Luton and other urban centres, Mirpuri networks carry real political weight. The biraderi system, built around clan and kinship ties, has long influenced how communities mobilise and how candidates are backed. British politicians know this very well. In some constituencies, these networks can shape campaigns, selections and turnout. For years, that influence often worked in ways that supported Pakistan’s broader narrative on Kashmir. What is changing now is not the existence of that influence, but its direction. When phones went dead in Mirpur and Kotli and reports of detentions began circulating in June 2026, the reaction in Britain was swift. Families were suddenly unable to reach relatives. Community networks activated almost instantly. People began writing to MPs, speaking out in public and pushing the issue beyond private WhatsApp groups into formal politics. The letter sent by more than 50 MPs to the Foreign Secretary mattered for that reason. So did the protests outside Pakistani diplomatic offices. The significance of these developments lies not only in the criticism of Pakistan, but in who is voicing it. Communities that once helped amplify Islamabad’s position abroad are now exposing its contradictions. That is politically embarrassing for Pakistan, and it is not something it can dismiss as Indian propaganda. The wider geopolitical context only makes the moment more delicate for Islamabad. Pakistan is under financial pressure, remains tied to Chinese strategic and debt commitments, and is simultaneously trying to retain Western interest through access to mineral resources in its northern regions. But those larger calculations do not erase the immediate political reality in PIoJK. Local anger is real, and it is directed at Pakistan’s own methods of control. India should recognise that fact without romanticising it. The protests are not a sudden pro-India uprising, and any attempt to project them as one would be a mistake. The more prudent course for New Delhi is to stay measured, keep attention on the human and political rights issues involved, and allow Pakistan’s own contradictions to remain in public view. For decades, Islamabad has spoken in the name of Kashmir. What is unfolding now in PIoJK suggests that many people there are no longer willing to let that claim go unchallenged.- Jun 09, 2026
- Rohit KA & Dr A Adityanjee
