Everette Assis Telles
Another act of terror strikes Kashmir, and the cycle begins anew. The grief is overwhelming, the anger righteous, the nationalism amplified. Flags wave, slogans trend, television screens flicker with demands for revenge. But beyond the din of rage and rhetoric, the most inconvenient question remains unasked—who truly benefits from this tragedy?
Not the civilians, who have lost their loved ones. Not the soldiers, whose blood seeps into the soil of a land they were told to protect. Not the weary peace-seekers, who once dared to dream of an end to the violence. No, the real victors of terror are found elsewhere, in conference rooms and corridors of power, where every explosion is an opportunity and every death another entry on a balance sheet.
Each attack begets a new round of military deals, acquisitions, and deployments. Defence budgets are revised upwards. Surveillance technology is upgraded. Drones, missiles, radar systems—bought and sold, tested and used, the machinery of war fueled by the horrors of the latest assault. The suppliers are far removed from the smoke and sorrow. Israeli drone companies, French jet manufacturers, American radar tech providers, Russian ammunition dealers—business thrives where bodies fall.
And what of the political class? An act of terror is a boon for those who trade in narratives. It galvanises sentiment, silences critics, re-frames debates. In one country, it strengthens nationalist fervor, rallying the people behind strongman posturing. In another, it reinforces military supremacy over civilian leadership, justifying strategic realignments under the guise of self-preservation. Terror is the great political weapon—one that provides distraction, control, and manipulation without ever requiring accountability.
Then there is the media, where tragedy is spectacle, and outrage is currency. Television studios morph into virtual war rooms, anchors posture as generals, headlines scream vengeance. Reports of diplomatic failures, intelligence lapses, or historical grievances take a backseat to performative patriotism. The viewers, stirred to fury, remain captivated, unaware that their rage has become a monetized commodity, fueling advertisements, driving viewership, and ensuring that the business of terror continues uninterrupted.
Lest we forget, those orchestrating the violence—the terror networks themselves—also emerge stronger. A single well-timed attack secures fresh recruits, validates their relevance, and ensures continued funding from shadowy benefactors. And, as expected, the overreaction from their adversaries only pushes more disillusioned individuals into their ranks, feeding the cycle of extremism they depend on for survival.
But perhaps the most insidious beneficiaries lurk beyond the immediate theatre of conflict. Foreign powers, watching with calculated detachment, observe how the flames of Kashmir serve their own strategic interests. While India is caught in its perpetual struggle with Pakistan, distractions mount elsewhere. The Line of Actual Control remains tense, the Indo-Pacific strategy falters. Across the globe, defense corporations seal new deals, intelligence agencies push revised agendas, and geopolitical players refine their maneuvering—all made possible by the continued volatility of South Asia.
And what of the common man, the citizen who is expected only to react—to grieve, to rage, to demand action? He is encouraged to wave the flag, chant the slogans, call for blood, believe the theatre, accept the script. But rarely is he asked to reflect. He is not told to follow the defense contracts signed in the aftermath, nor to trace the financial gains of those amplifying war cries on television. He is never prompted to examine what laws were quietly passed while he was distracted by noise.
It is time to dismantle the illusion. National security is not safeguarded by reactionary outrage. Patriotism is not measured by the volume of chants. If we are to break free from the manipulation, we must watch movements, not just words. Monitor alliances, not just accusations. Demand transparency, not just rhetoric.
The dead deserve more than performative grief. The living deserve more than orchestrated rage. The next time Kashmir is bathed in smoke and sorrow, do not simply ask who fired the bullet—ask who profited from its trajectory.