Can appeals for peace make any difference when India and Pakistan are not even on speaking terms? A recent letter, addressed to the Prime Ministers and signed by prominent citizens from both countries, has called for the resumption of bilateral dialogue to repair a relationship that is passing through one of its deepest periods of estrangement.
The appeal may prove inconsequential or even invite criticism for striking a discordant note amid the prevailing rhetoric of confrontation. Yet there is never a wrong time to argue for peace. Civil society exists precisely to keep channels of dialogue alive when governments cannot. Critics may argue that such initiatives overlook the need for accountability or that previous peace efforts failed to prevent cross-border terrorism. Those are legitimate concerns. But they do not diminish the value of keeping open the possibility of engagement.
The horrific killing of tourists in Pahalgam last year led to a four-day military confrontation, the most serious between the two nuclear-armed neighbours in more than two decades. Yet Pahalgam was only the culmination of a decade-long deterioration. The optimism that briefly marked the early interactions between Narendra Modi and Nawaz Sharif in 2014 steadily gave way to mistrust after the 2016 Uri attack. India’s doctrine shifted from strategic restraint to muscular deterrence, with direct military retaliation becoming the preferred response to cross-border terror.
“Surgical strike” entered the lexicon of state policy and soon became part of popular discourse. After Uri, it was almost inevitable that subsequent attacks — from Pulwama in 2019 to Pahalgam in 2025 — would invite military retaliation. Public opinion has increasingly come to favour a policy of retribution. That sentiment has been reinforced by a media ecosystem in which prime-time television often thrives on confrontation with Pakistan and by a steady stream of hyper-nationalist popular culture. Yet there are also signs of a more nuanced conversation. Even the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh, the BJP’s ideological parent, has recently spoken of engaging with the people of Pakistan.
The paradox is that hostility and engagement have often coexisted. Since Partition, the two countries have fought wars, traded accusations, and remained divided over Kashmir. Yet they have also periodically reopened transport links, resumed dialogue, and created limited avenues for cooperation. Even in 2019, months after the abrogation of Jammu and Kashmir’s special status, the two governments jointly opened the Kartarpur corridor, allowing visa-free access for Indian pilgrims to one of Sikhism’s holiest shrines.
Today, however, relations are at their lowest ebb. Diplomatic engagement has virtually ceased. India has suspended the 66-year-old Indus Waters Treaty for the first time, bilateral trade has fallen to almost nothing, and people-to-people contacts have withered. The economic costs are not insignificant. Air India estimates that the closure of Pakistani airspace has added around `4,000 crore to its annual costs. Yet the broader strategic objective of isolating Pakistan has also produced mixed results. Even as India has hardened its stance, Pakistan has managed to regain diplomatic visibility, cultivating ties with Donald Trump and recently helping broker a fragile truce between the United States and Iran.
A world already burdened by multiple conflicts has little appetite for another confrontation between two nuclear powers. The humanitarian and economic costs of continued hostility would be borne above all by ordinary people on either side of the Radcliffe Line. That is why efforts — however modest — to revive diplomatic, cultural, and societal engagement deserve encouragement. Dialogue alone cannot eliminate terrorism or resolve decades-old disputes. But history suggests that enduring peace rarely begins with governments. It often begins with citizens willing to keep the conversation alive.