4 min readJul 20, 2026 06:40 AM IST
First published on: Jul 20, 2026 at 06:40 AM IST
Punjab has lived under the shadow of repeated historical ruptures for over four decades — Operation Blue Star, the assassination of Indira Gandhi, the anti-Sikh violence of November 1984, two decades of militancy and counterinsurgency, and more recently, the farmers’ movement, are interconnected chapters. Earlier generations endured Partition, the agitations surrounding the Punjabi Suba movement and the state’s reorganisation in the 1960s. Each left behind grievances and unresolved questions. Yet no comprehensive institutional effort has been made to bring closure through truth, accountability and reconciliation.
The release of Satluj should be viewed as an opportunity to learn to live with truth, initiate reconciliation and draw lessons from one of the darkest phases of Punjab’s history. Democracies mature by confronting difficult histories rather than suppressing them. The purpose is neither to glorify nor demonise any individual or institution, but to understand how democratic politics degenerated into extraordinary violence and how such conditions can be prevented from recurring.
Punjab witnessed a prolonged insurgency and an equally intense counterinsurgency. The violence spared none. The debate should not revolve around eulogising or condemning militants or state agencies alone. Unless accountability reaches the level of political decision-making and institutional collapse, societies remain trapped in the politics of blame rather than the politics of learning.
Perhaps Punjab’s greatest achievement is that society ultimately refused to remain divided along religious lines. This found political expression in the 1996 Moga Declaration, which affirmed that the demands, grievances and quest for justice would henceforth belong to all Punjabis rather than to Sikhs, Hindus or any other community separately. Since then, despite occasional attempts by political actors, Punjab has largely resisted communal polarisation. There is little empirical evidence to suggest that screening Satluj would have disturbed communal harmony.
An equally important lesson emerged from the Akali-BJP government’s policy of reintegration. Several prominent militant leaders returned to the mainstream. The Department of Relief and Rehabilitation prepared a rehabilitation programme for nearly 13,000 widows and over 50,000 children belonging to families of militants, police personnel and ordinary citizens. The study refused to classify victims by religion, caste or political affiliation. Rehabilitation was based on the principle that suffering is universal and reintegration a collective responsibility.
Despite these initiatives, justice for the victims of the 1984 violence remained painfully slow. Neither the state nor political leadership initiated any institutional mechanism capable of bringing closure to Punjab’s violent past. Victims, human rights groups, former officials and political actors continue to narrate selective episodes, leaving Punjab without a shared historical understanding.
Closure requires recognition of every atrocity, accountability for political failure and a willingness to live with historical truth. Punjab needs a Truth and Reconciliation Commission with an independent mandate to document the experiences of all victims — those killed by militants, those subjected to disappearances and fake encounters, families of police personnel, public servants and ordinary citizens. It should also establish a Peace Memorial as a reminder that neither militant violence nor state excesses can ever become legitimate instruments of politics.
There is a lesson for political actors. Repeated attempts to mobilise society through religious or caste identities may generate short-term gains but invariably strengthen radical forces and weaken democratic institutions. Punjab’s history demonstrates that divisive politics imposes enormous costs.
The state has an obligation to move to the politics of accountability. Only through truth, justice, reconciliation, documentation and a Peace Memorial can Punjab bring closure to one of the most painful chapters of its history and ensure future generations inherit not the burden of unresolved memories but the wisdom of democratic learning.
The writer is chairperson, Institute for Development and Communication, Chandigarh
