By Prof Dr Shiv Sethi
Sitting comfortably on a recliner in an air-conditioned room, wrapped in a cozy quilt, with a smartphone in one hand and a cup of tea in the other—it’s easy to unleash so-called patriotic emotions on social media.
Love and respect for the motherland is, undoubtedly, a matter of great pride. But wearing patriotism on our sleeves and indulging in performative nationalism often serves little real purpose.
The recent Pahalgam massacre in Kashmir, carried out by Pakistani state-sponsored terrorists, has once again strained the already fragile relations between India and Pakistan.
While the horror of such attacks evokes grief and anger, what truly disturbs me is the lack of civic sense many display—clogging social media with provocative posts that stoke jingoism rather than thoughtful patriotism.
There is a stark difference between imagining war and experiencing it. Those who glorify war from the safety of their homes, armed with hashtags and hyperbole, often possess not patriotism, but a dangerous jingoistic mindset. I am not suggesting that retaliation against a terror-exporting state is uncalled for—Operation Sindoor was a decisive and justified military response to a heinous act of terrorism. But the propaganda surrounding it, cloaked in pseudo-patriotism, only serves to fan the flames of conflict, not resolve them.
War is not a trending topic. It is a traumatic experience, especially for those who live on the edge of it. I know this firsthand. Living just ten miles from the Pakistan border in the town of Ferozepur, I’ve seen what most people only watch on television or read in headlines.
I still remember the fear that gripped us during the Kargil War 26 years ago. Though the conflict remained confined to Kashmir, we in Punjab’s border villages were asked to vacate our homes overnight. What followed was nothing short of an exodus. Entire villages near the border turned into ghost towns as families fled in panic. Residential buildings were taken over by the armed forces and turned into bunkers and vantage points. In the rush to escape, people left behind their livestock—many of which died from hunger and thirst in their abandoned shelters.
The war left deep scars on my family as well. My frail grandfather, unable to cope with the miserable conditions of a refugee camp, passed away. Like many others, we lived under the constant threat of shelling, endured sleepless nights under the cover of darkness during enforced blackouts, and suffered the invisible wounds of psychological warfare. Though we eventually returned to our homes physically unharmed, the emotional toll stayed with us for years.
Tonight, as I sit just seven kilometers from the Indo-Pak border, shaken by the sounds of drone explosions overhead, those memories come flooding back. I tremble not just with fear, but with the painful realization that we may once again be on the brink. And so I write—not to preach peace without understanding the stakes, but to remind those far removed from the conflict zones: war is never a solution.
Before posting inflammatory or war-mongering content online, pause and think. You may be miles away from the border, but war has a way of crossing distances. The flames you help ignite might one day reach your doorstep too.
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