Identity, Terror, and Violence

I am compelled to write this, not as much by the terror attack in Kashmir yesterday, as by the responses I’ve witnessed around me.

From what we know so far, the terrorists likely belonged to a distinctly identifiable religion and nation, while the victims came from a different religion and nation—these differences being the very target characteristics. The violence appears fomented by an emphasis on these divisions of faith and nationality.

Though, in this moment, we may have little control over why these individuals chose particular targets based on identity, we can control how much we ourselves emphasize identity differences in our response.

In response to the attack, I see some blaming “Muslims” broadly, while others hold “Pakistanis” collectively responsible. Yet neither group as a whole bears responsibility. The identity that truly matters belongs to those specifically accountable—The Resistance Front—and what are they? Murderers. That's the relevant identity.

This collective blame on “Muslims” or “Pakistanis” has consequences for those who have no connections to the violence but are then subjected to greater distance. These individuals—doctors, teachers, students, neighbors—experience the weight of collective judgment. And these include my good friends, people across the border, and people with whom I eat sheer korma and discuss Biryanis. Communities become fragmented precisely when solidarity is most needed.

The members of The Resistance Front may emphasize their religious and national identities as distinct from their victims. However, our response must acknowledge the consequences of highlighting such differences, which creates distance not only from the perpetrators but also from countless others who share those broader identities.

By blaming Muslims collectively, we alienate compassionate people who feel the same anguish at the loss of innocent lives as we do. The same applies when blaming all Pakistanis. This increased social distance carries two significant costs: lost opportunities for cooperation and the potential for further conflict.

Amartya Sen, in Identity and Violence, warns us about this very danger—what he calls the “miniaturization of human beings,” reducing complex individuals to a singular dimension of identity. Sen reminds us that the illusion of a singular, overriding identity is often the foundation upon which violence is built. When we see people primarily as members of a religion or nationality rather than as multifaceted humans, we pave the way for division and conflict. I don’t discuss here the complexity of the perpetrators of the violence—but especially that of other individuals who bear costs of being associated with particular identities due to the actions of other individuals who emphasize this identity.

We all possess multiple identities. During crises like this, we must carefully consider which differences we emphasize—those that separate us from perpetrators without distancing us from innocent people who equally condemn such violence. Focus on distinctions that bring us closer to our shared humanity, rather than those that divide us further from people uninvolved in these acts.

Each of us embodies diverse identities, and reducing conflict requires acknowledging this diversity, celebrating it, and embracing the peaceful cooperation it enables. We needn't abandon our identities—they provide warmth and strength. Instead, we must decide on the relative importance of our different associations and affiliations.