Ruhullah’s salvo and the crisis of accountability

Aga Syed Ruhullah’s latest outburst is more than a personal political attack; it is a sharp reminder of the growing disconnect between electoral promises and governance realities in Jammu and Kashmir. More than a year after assuming office, the elected government finds itself increasingly questioned not by the opposition alone, but by voices from within the broader political spectrum that once shared the same public mandate.
Ruhullah’s criticism strikes at the heart of democratic accountability. His assertion that time for excuses is over resonates with a population that voted in hope of change, responsiveness, and representation. In a system where expectations were already fragile, prolonged silence on pressing issues—particularly those affecting students—only deepens public disillusionment. Students, traditionally at the forefront of political consciousness in the region, have legitimate concerns ranging from education policy to employment prospects. A government that hesitates to engage with them risks appearing indifferent to the future of its own electorate.
Equally significant is Ruhullah’s questioning of the government’s passivity on contentious actions such as bulldozer drives. These measures, widely perceived as coercive, sit uneasily with the idea of a people-elected government. The moral argument is simple: if a government is elected to represent public interests, it cannot afford the luxury of being a mute spectator while controversial actions continue unchecked. Silence, in such cases, is interpreted not as prudence but as complicity.
Ruhullah’s remarks also expose the uncomfortable tension between the elected government and the office of the Lieutenant Governor. If approvals are required, as he points out, then political leadership must have the courage to seek them openly and take ownership of decisions. Governance cannot be reduced to a perpetual blame game where responsibility is endlessly deferred upward.
The personal barbs exchanged between Ruhullah and Minister Javaid Rana further underline the erosion of political maturity. Branding dissenters as “agents” trivialises genuine criticism and shifts focus away from governance failures. Ruhullah’s counter-accusation of hypocrisy may add spice to headlines, but it also reflects a deeper malaise—politics driven more by personal attacks than policy debate.
Ultimately, this episode should serve as a wake-up call for the elected government. Power derived from the people is sustained only through performance, transparency, and the courage to speak for public interests. As Ruhullah warned, the same electorate that confers legitimacy also retains the right to withdraw it. In a region yearning for credible governance, that is a warning no government can afford to ignore.