Key Words: Kargil-Skardu road, humanitarian relief, economic benefits,
peacebuilding, cross-border trade, confidence-building measures
The Kargil–Skardu road, a once-vital artery across the Himalayas, has remained sealed for over seven decades, symbolizing the painful human and economic divisions stemming from the India–Pakistan conflict. This 170-kilometre route historically provided an all-weather link between Kargil (Indian illegally occupied Kashmir’s Ladakh) and Skardu (Pakistan’s Gilgit Baltistan)[1]. It was closed in 1949 when the newly drawn ceasefire line, now Line of Control (LoC) split Ladakh and Baltistan, cutting off communities that for centuries shared deep familial, cultural, and commercial bonds. In the following decades, families found themselves divided on opposite sides of an impermeable border, and a crucial trade corridor became a geopolitical dead end.
RESEARCHER: ZAIN UL ABDIN
Recently, however, calls to reopen the Kargil–Skardu road have gained momentum as a humanitarian and confidence-building measure. The successful 2019 opening of the Kartarpur Corridor between Indian and Pakistani Punjab renewed hope in Kargil, where thousands of divided families are requesting for a similar initiative. In early 2019, peaceful protests under the motto of “Open Kargil-Skardu Road” movement swept Kargil, reflecting grassroots demand to reconnect Ladakh with Baltistan[2]. Political leaders across the range have echoed this sentiment. In 2017, Jammu and Kashmir’s then Chief Minister, Mehbooba Mufti, championed the idea of opening Kargil as a “gateway to Central Asia,” underscoring the route’s potential to unlock trade and travel beyond South Asia.
Likewise, local representatives like Haji Asgar Ali Karbalaie have framed the closure as a humanitarian crisis, urging both governments to include the Himalayan frontier in their peace process and allow separated families to reunite. Two other cross-LoC roads Srinagar–Muzaffarabad in Kashmir and Poonch–Rawalakot in Jammu were opened in the 2000s as part of earlier peace efforts, demonstrating that easing travel restrictions can alleviate suffering and foster trust. Yet Ladakh remains the only region of the former princely state of Jammu and Kashmir still completely cut off by the LoC, heightening the urgency to address this anomaly.
This article examines the case for reopening the Kargil–Skardu road through the lenses of human security and peacebuilding. Adopting a human security framework means focusing on the safety, welfare, and dignity of people. In this context, prioritizing the needs of local communities over traditional geopolitical rivalries. In parallel, drawing on the logic of confidence-building measures (CBMs), the concept of “positive peace” (peace built on justice and cooperation rather than mere absence of war) guides our exploration of how grassroots connectivity can transform relations between India and Pakistan.
Methodologically, the study draws on historical records, policy analyses, and stakeholder testimonies from both sides of the LoC to assess how reviving this road might alleviate human suffering, contribute to economic development, and build mutual confidence. It also fills a notable gap in the literature, there is limited literature on the Kargil-Skardu road but that often promotes the Indian narrative and its false allegations regarding Pakistan’s stance on reopening the Kargil-Skardu corridor. Reopening this road represents a path toward humanitarian relief, economic prosperity, and regional peace in an area long defined by division.
The human toll of the Kargil–Skardu road’s closure is measured in thousands of fractured families and broken bonds. Local estimates suggest between 8,000 to 12,000 families in Ladakh and Baltistan remain divided by the sealed LoC[3]. Many of these families have now been separated for three generations, with grandparents and grandchildren never having met in person. To visit kin across the border, civilians must undertake an almost absurd journey of over 2,500 km, traveling from Kargil to Srinagar, Delhi, Lahore, and finally up to Skardu which becomes a trip of several days that only the most resourceful can afford.
By contrast, the old road between Kargil and Skardu is only about 170 km (roughly a 5–6 hour drive). For most separated families, such long-haul travel is prohibitively expensive and entangled in red tape; effectively, they have been denied even the basic humanitarian privilege of meeting their own relatives. In one illustrative case, a group of Balti families displaced in 1948 resorted to reuniting during pilgrimages in Saudi Arabia and Iran, neutral ground where Indians and Pakistanis could briefly embrace far from the gaze of visas and security checkpoints[4]. Such stories underscore the profound psychological suffering caused by a border that cleaves through households and history.
The cultural fabric of the region has also been a casualty. The people of Kargil and Skardu share the same language (Balti) and have deep ethnic and religious affinities, predominantly as Shia Muslims, yet their shared cultural space has been sundered since 1949. Before Partition, Kargil, Skardu and Leh formed a single district (the Ladakh Wazarat), and intermarriage and commerce knit the communities tightly together. Now, decades of enforced separation threaten to erode those common traditions and understanding. Younger generations on each side grow up as strangers despite their intertwined heritage. Reopening the route is seen by locals as a way to restore a “sense of oneness and unification of hearts and emotions” across the divide.
Conversely, the continued closure feeds a painful sense of isolation and alienation. Baltistani culture in Kargil and Ladakhi influences in Skardu have each been stifled, reduced to memories carried by elders. In human security terms, the loss of these familial and cultural ties represents an ongoing trauma for the affected populations, a denial of the right to identity and community.
Local leaders frame this situation as an urgent humanitarian issue rather than a mere geopolitical matter. At a 2018 conclave in Kargil, community representatives implored authorities to address the “humanitarian crisis” unfolding in Ladakh and Baltistan due to the locked border[5]. “Depriving people of a right to meet each other gives an impression that both the countries do not trust the people of the divided region,” observed Haji Asgar Ali Karbalaie, a veteran Kargil leader, stressing how the status quo breeds mutual suspicion.
Such advocacy highlights the moral imperative felt on the ground: that reconnecting Kargil and Skardu is first and foremost about alleviating human suffering. In the logic of human security, opening this road would mean protecting people’s fundamental rights to family life, cultural exchange, and dignity. Every additional year of delay is counted in weddings not attended, funerals not mourned, and childhoods spent without grandparents, an incalculable humanitarian cost that any meaningful peace process must finally reckon with.
Beyond humanitarian relief, reopening the Kargil–Skardu axis promises substantial economic dividends for the long neglected border regions and even strategic gains for South Asia as a whole. Historically, this corridor was the economic lifeline of Baltistan and Ladakh, a key segment of the old Silk Route funneling goods between Central and South Asia. Its closure after 1948 abruptly choked off Baltistan’s “natural linkages to the outside” world.
Trade that once flowed freely over these mountains was forced onto circuitous paths. Today, any exchange between Kargil and Skardu must travel roughly 1,700 km via Srinagar and Islamabad instead of a direct 170 km across the LoC. This distortion has stunted development on both sides. Gilgit-Baltistan’s markets remain cut off from Indian Ladakh, denying producers access to nearby consumers, while Kargil’s economy is largely hostage to a single highway to Srinagar. Each winter, the Zoji-La pass on that route closes for six months due to heavy snow, leaving Kargil isolated when people most need supplies[6].
Opening the road could rapidly revive cross-border commerce and unlock new opportunities. It would formalize and legitimize the informal trade that locals now conduct via smuggling or third countries. Surveys indicate a thriving black market serving the pent-up demand between Ladakh and Baltistan. Instead of such risky channels, a legal Kargil–Skardu route would allow goods to move directly at far lower cost. Analysts note that because India–Pakistan commerce often detours through foreign hubs, “significant revenues are lost, profit margins are reduced, and costs go up”. Eliminating these inefficiencies would immediately improve livelihoods on both sides.
Farmers in Gilgit-Baltistan could export apricots, gemstones or wool to India, while Ladakh’s artisans and merchants would gain access to Pakistani and even Chinese markets. Recognizing this potential, India even floated a proposal in 2014 to open Kargil–Skardu for trade; Gilgit-Baltistan leaders welcomed the idea, predicting that renewed links would “usher in a new era of development and prosperity” in the region. They estimated that reopening the route could attract over 300,000 tourists and significantly boost trade, reversing the “negative economic fallout” of decades of closure[7].
The tourism sector is among the biggest prospective winners. Ladakh and Gilgit-Baltistan together form a high-altitude paradise of dramatic landscapes and rich culture. An open road would enable tourists to traverse a spectacular circuit from Ladakh’s Leh and Kargil to Baltistan’s Skardu and beyond, a journey currently impossible.
Tour operators on both sides could offer combined itineraries, and local communities would benefit from guiding, hospitality, and handicraft sales. Kargil stakeholders stress that their region has immense tourism potential which has been stifled only by lack of access. If the road opens, the influx of visitors could be transformative. One projection suggests that hundreds of thousands of travelers would flock through the Kargil–Skardu corridor annually, injecting substantial income into border towns and villages.
At a strategic level, re-establishing this link carries broader significance for regional connectivity. Former Chief Minister Mehbooba Mufti’s description of Kargil–Skardu as a “gateway to Central Asia” highlights a larger vision. Some observers even suggest that in a future détente, this road could interface with the China–Pakistan Economic Corridor, opening India’s door to Central Asian trade routes via Gilgit-Baltistan. Even without such ambitions, the immediate effect would be to knit together two adjacent economies and reduce the sense of isolation that Ladakh and Baltistan have endured. As Kargil’s leaders point out, their development has been unfairly “held hostage” to events in distant Kashmir, a reopened road offers a chance to change that equation. By breathing new life into local trade and travel, the Kargil–Skardu corridor can catalyze a more prosperous and interconnected future for communities that have too long been left at the margins.
Reopening the Kargil–Skardu road promises clear humanitarian and economic benefits, yet it remains entangled in the broader political impasse between India and Pakistan. Decades of distrust and conflict have made Cross-LoC initiatives highly sensitive. The legacy of past wars between Pakistan and India, most notably the 1999 Kargil conflict fought in the very region continues to cast a long shadow. Each side’s narrative has often assigned blame to the other side for the stalemate. For years, Indian officials suggested that Pakistan was not ready to open the route, and interviews in Kargil reflected a local perception that “the Pakistani Government was hesitant in opening the route”[8].
Pakistani accounts, however, tell a different story: officials in Gilgit Baltistan recall that when Islamabad previously proposed opening new border routes on humanitarian grounds, New Delhi “did not respond”. This mutual mistrust reinforced by conflicting narratives and strategic suspicions, forms the crux of the political hurdles facing the Kargil–Skardu road.
Historical attempts to restore this link underscore the impact of the volatile India-Pakistan relationship. Notably, amid a cautious peace process in September 2008, the Prime Ministers of India and Pakistan agreed on modalities to open the Skardu-Kargil route. That breakthrough, however, never translated into reality as relations deteriorated soon after. High-profile terrorist attacks and political crises derailed dialogue in subsequent years, sapping momentum from cross-LoC confidence-building measures.
The modest gains of the mid-2000s were effectively reversed by 2019, when bilateral ties plunged to a new low. In that year, India unilaterally revoked Jammu and Kashmir’s special autonomy and halted the remaining cross-LoC trade links, while Pakistan responded by suspending bilateral trade and downgrading diplomatic relations[9]. In such a fraught environment, new initiatives like the Kargil–Skardu road have been left in limbo. Simply put, the absence of high-level dialogue and the prevalence of zero-sum thinking on both sides make any progress on this proposal exceedingly difficult.
Deep-seated strategic concerns also play into the hesitancy. Indian security planners worry that opening the route might be misused or could imply acceptance of the status quo in Gilgit Baltistan, a region India claims as part of the disputed Kashmir. Pakistani officials, for their part, have questioned India’s sudden interest in connectivity through this region, suspecting it might be driven less by humanitarian concern and more by a desire to gain access to Central Asia or counter Pakistan’s partnerships.
When India’s local authorities in Ladakh floated plans in 2017 to open new crossings (including Kargil–Skardu), the response from Gilgit Baltistan was lukewarm, with a senior official pointedly noting that India’s new overture came only after years of rejecting Pakistan’s own proposals hinting at a possible link to Pakistan’s economic corridor with China. This climate of suspicion means that even well intended proposals are viewed through a geopolitical lens. Each country fears granting the other a strategic advantage, turning an initiative meant for people’s relief into a casualty of interstate rivalry.
Amid these challenges, Pakistan’s official stance on the Kargil–Skardu reopening has evolved toward openness and conditional support. Islamabad now publicly acknowledges the humanitarian and economic imperatives of restoring this route. The current Director General for South Asia & SAARC at Pakistan’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, for instance, has underscored that Pakistan is ready to consider reopening Kargil–Skardu as a confidence-building measure but not unilaterally. Any such step requires India’s cooperation and concurrence, given that the road crosses an international ceasefire line.
This view was echoed on the ground by Gilgit-Baltistan authorities, who noted that they would “look into the proposals once we get something in writing”[10] from New Delhi implicitly highlighting that progress is contingent on Indian engagement. Pakistan’s broader posture in recent years reinforces this openness to connectivity. Since 2018, under a new government, Islamabad has championed initiatives to increase cross-border linkages (such as the Kartarpur Corridor and a proposed Sharda Peeth pilgrimage route in Kashmir), signaling that it “hugely values connectivity in the region instead of isolation”.
The long-held impression that the Pakistani establishment (particularly the military) opposes such border openings has been decisively refuted by public statements in support of the Kargil–Skardu road from high-ranking officials in Pakistan. In short, Pakistan has shown willingness to proceed with reopening the route, so long as there is a reciprocal commitment from India. The hurdle, therefore, lies not in Pakistani reluctance but in the absence of a political green light from both capitals.
Ultimately, the stalemate over Kargil–Skardu reflects the broader freeze in India-Pakistan relations. Even well-meaning humanitarian proposals cannot escape the gravitational pull of the Kashmir dispute and domestic politics. Until the two governments find a minimum level of trust and resume sustained dialogue, the plan to reconnect Kargil with Skardu will remain a victim of the wider geopolitical deadlock. The road’s barricades are thus not just of rock and ice, but of politics, a reminder that confidence-building measures like this are impossible without political confidence at the highest level.
Despite these obstacles, the vision of reopening the Kargil–Skardu road endures as a compelling pathway for peacebuilding and regional reconciliation. At its core, this route acts as a humanitarian lifeline. Reconnecting Kargil with Skardu would directly help the suffering of thousands of divided families who have been separated since 1949. In this way, a simple act of allowing people to meet can have profound peacebuilding effects, softening attitudes hardened by decades of separation.
Equally important are the symbolic and confidence-building dimensions of this initiative. Every instance of India and Pakistan cooperating on a cross-border venture helps chip away at the decades of enmity. The most striking recent example is the Kartarpur Corridor, opened in 2019, which allows Indian Sikh pilgrims to visit a holy shrine in Pakistan without visas. That project was realized even amidst a near-freeze in formal dialogue, hinting at what’s possible when both sides focus on narrow, mutually beneficial goals. Kartarpur’s success “gave impetus” to the Kargil–Skardu reopening movement, inspiring hope that similar goodwill can be extended to Muslim communities in Ladakh and Baltistan.
The road reopening has garnered unprecedented grassroots support: “all segments of the society across the Line of Control… have vehemently demanded” it in unison. In late 2018 and early 2019, thousands rallied in Kargil town, chanting for the road to open, while simultaneous demonstrations and advocacy took place in Skardu. Such synchronized public sentiment on both sides of the divide is rare, and it sends a powerful signal to leaders in Delhi and Islamabad. Even the local governments under Pakistani administration have joined the chorus the Prime Minister of Azad Jammu & Kashmir and the Chief Minister of Gilgit-Baltistan made a joint appeal, urging both national governments to facilitate travel and trade through this historic route. These bottom-up peacebuilding efforts indicate that the demand for connectivity transcends politics and is rooted in a shared South Asian culture and history. When ordinary people, local leaders, and civil society unanimously call for a reconciliation measure, it creates a moral imperative that is hard for the national leadership to ignore indefinitely[11].
To translate this vision into reality, creative pathways and phased confidence-building will be essential. One approach is to start with purely humanitarian gestures: for instance, allowing limited, permit-based crossings for elderly family members or medical patients as a pilot project. Such baby steps would build trust gradually, demonstrating that the Kargil–Skardu link can operate without incident. Confidence accrued could then pave the way for broader access and eventually formal trade. The international community and track-two diplomacy can also play a facilitating role. Informal dialogues among retired officials, diplomats, and experts (perhaps under think-tank auspices) could quietly hammer out practical modalities and security protocols for the route, keeping the idea alive even when official talks are stalled.
These preparatory efforts mean that whenever the political climate improves, a ready-to-implement plan is on the table. Scholars and peace advocates note that backchannel diplomacy can help mitigate mistrust and lay the groundwork for such initiatives. In fact, a discreet backchannel understanding between India and Pakistan enabled the surprise ceasefire reaffirmation in 2021, a reminder that even in dark times, dialogue continues behind the scenes. The Kargil-Skardu road could similarly benefit from quiet inclusion on a backchannel agenda, so that whenever bilateral relations take a turn for the better, reopening the road can be fast-tracked as a “quick win” for both sides.
Ultimately, reviving the Kargil–Skardu road is about building peace by building connections. It aims to transform a bitterly contested boundary into a bridge, modest at first, but with profound significance. Of course, such an undertaking alone cannot resolve the larger political disputes that fuel India-Pakistan tensions. However, it can help create an atmosphere where dialogue is possible anyway. By addressing a genuine humanitarian need and delivering tangible economic gains, this confidence-building measure could gradually ease the distrust that has long plagued the region.
Some analysts argue that agreeing to open this route would be an ideal olive branch for the two governments to “pick up the thread of dialogue” after years of deadlock. Indeed, success here could build momentum to tackle thornier issues, proving that cooperation is possible even on the Kashmir frontier. The road has remained closed for over seven decades, but the very fact that it is still envisaged as a peace corridor speaks to a shared recognition of its potential. In a region weary of conflict, initiatives like the Kargil–Skardu reopening offer a rare and hopeful path forward, one where empathy and shared interest gradually replace suspicion, and where a long-forgotten road might light the way toward lasting peace.
The evidence shows that keeping the Kargil–Skardu road closed imposes heavy, preventable human costs on divided families. People who could meet in a few hours by road must instead apply for hard-to-obtain permits and travel thousands of kilometers via Wagah/Atari, delaying medical visits, funerals, and ordinary family life. Of course, political hurdles cannot be wished away; years of mistrust and strategic rivalry will not vanish overnight; however, Pakistan’s current Director General (South Asia & SAARC) at MOFA affirmed in conversation with the author that the humanitarian case is strong; Pakistan is ready in principle, but reopening requires India’s concurrence (personal communication, n.d.).
Reopening has clear economic benefits: it can promote local products and create more opportunities for indigenous people on both sides through infrastructure development. As a peacebuilding measure, controlled connectivity helps reduce everyday frictions and creates constituencies that prefer calm over escalation. Cross-LoC bus and trade initiatives were found to modestly shift perceptions and keep channels open even when politics soured.
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