‘No space for critical thought’: How detentions and surveillance are strangling academic freedom in Kashmir

The ruling removed Wani’s preventive detention under the Public Safety Act. The court rejected the idea that books, by themselves, prove criminality or justify holding someone without trial. It also found that authorities had not established specific subversive activity linked to him.

Wani had first been arrested under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act. A special National Investigation Agency court later granted bail. On the same day, Kupwara’s district magistrate ordered detention under the PSA, citing his father’s alleged militant links, conference invitations, the UAPA case, and seized literature. The High Court found the books had been wrongly attributed to Wani.

The decision sets a clear limit on treating scholarship and reading as security evidence. It does not end the wider surveillance described in Kashmir, where academics and journalists face detentions, book restrictions, and passport withholdings. The case highlights the importance of evidence before preventive detention is imposed.

Preventive detention is an administrative measure intended to stop activities authorities consider dangerous before a person is tried or convicted. Under Kashmir’s Public Safety Act, it can last for up to two years. The person is held because officials claim the individual may threaten state security or public order.

That differs from punishment after a criminal trial. In a normal criminal case, prosecutors must present charges and evidence, and a court decides guilt before punishment follows. Wani’s case shows the distinction clearly: he was granted bail in a UAPA case, but the district magistrate then detained him under the PSA on security grounds.

The High Court ruled that the PSA detention was unjustified because authorities had not shown specific subversive activity. The judgment therefore questioned using preventive detention as a substitute for proving criminal conduct, especially where books and academic work formed part of the justification.

The available source does not provide the two figures requested. It reports that authorities began mass filtering books at prominent libraries and educational institutions in July, citing allegedly objectionable content. However, the excerpt ends with the words “All education,” before giving the campaign’s results.

The article does provide a different number: authorities previously banned the publication, sale, and circulation of 25 books on Kashmir. That figure refers to books covered by a ban, not necessarily books removed from libraries or sent for expert examination. Mixing those categories would produce an unsupported answer.

Therefore, the number removed and the number sent for expert examination must remain unstated from this source. The broader fact is that libraries and educational institutions were instructed or subjected to screening, while the article describes concerns about the effect on academic freedom and access to contested ideas.

Authorities assembled several indirect associations to portray Wani as a possible security risk. They cited literature seized from his home, invitations to present papers at Columbia University and Dublin City University, his earlier UAPA case, and his father’s alleged connection to a former militant group.

The mechanism was association rather than demonstrated conduct. The detention record referred to Wani’s father, Mohammad Maqbool Wani, who authorities said had been linked to al-Barq before surrendering in 1990. It also described certain books as “anti-national,” including titles police alleged Wani had authored. The High Court found those books had been wrongly attributed to him.

This case shows how academic activity, family history, and reading material can be combined into a security narrative. The court rejected that approach without evidence of specific subversive activity. The ruling therefore challenges the use of intellectual and personal associations as substitutes for proof.

The article describes Article 370’s unilateral abrogation by the ruling BJP government as the beginning of sweeping administrative restructuring in Kashmir. New domicile laws were introduced, and critics described them as a “settler-colonial project” aimed at changing the region’s Muslim-majority character.

According to the article, these political and administrative changes were accompanied by curtailed civil liberties. Dissent was criminalised, while journalists and academics faced arbitrary detention, book bans, and passport withholdings. Public life consequently came under continuous state surveillance, extending beyond universities and newsrooms into religious institutions.

The article presents this as an ongoing tightening of control rather than a completed change. It reports that authorities screened books, standardised Friday sermons through the Waqf Board, and continued security measures affecting intellectual life. Critics and rights groups worry that these conditions will reduce open debate and reshape what people can write, teach, publish, or publicly challenge.

When books are banned and researchers fear surveillance or detention, intellectual life becomes cautious. Scholars may avoid controversial topics, journalists may leave out critical stories, and teachers may hesitate to assign disputed texts. Public debate then loses competing evidence and becomes limited to ideas authorities consider acceptable.

The article gives a direct example from Kashmir. An anonymous Srinagar writer said some writers were struggling, some had stopped writing, and others wrote “not to annoy anyone.” The writer also said critical stories were absent from media. Authorities had banned 25 books and ordered educational institutions and libraries to screen collections for objectionable content.

The likely result, as described by academics and rights groups, is a shrinking space for scholarship and discussion. Years of detention and surveillance may influence who dares to write and what gets written. Universities and public institutions risk becoming places of self-censorship rather than open inquiry.

Academic freedom matters because knowledge develops through questioning, disagreement, and evidence. Researchers need room to investigate difficult subjects, including disputed history and government policy, without being treated as security threats merely for reading or presenting ideas. Independent scholarship helps people compare claims rather than accept one official version.

For example, a researcher studying Kashmir’s political history might examine books, interview sources, and present findings at an international conference. If those activities are treated as suspicious, important evidence may go unexamined. The Wani case illustrates the danger: authorities cited conference invitations and seized books, but the High Court found the books wrongly attributed to him.

The article warns that restrictions can change who writes and what gets written. Bans, surveillance, and detention may encourage self-censorship in universities, media, and public debate. Protecting independent inquiry therefore supports informed discussion, accountability, and a fuller understanding of contested events and policies.