Punjab’s Modern War

Punjab today is passing through a critical moment in its modern history. It is not the Punjab of the 1980s, when militancy and open violence gripped entire districts, but neither is it a Punjab completely free from danger. The state faces a subtler, more sophisticated kind of threat an invisible conflict waged not through open rebellion but through drones, digital propaganda, narco-gangster networks, and diaspora-driven narratives. In this complex environment, the resilience of Punjab’s Sikh community and the strategic response of the Government of India together define how peace and progress are being preserved in one of the country’s most sensitive border states.

In the past few years, drones have replaced armed infiltrators as the frontline instruments of cross-border provocation. These machines, often launched from across the Pakistan border, fly low and quiet under the cover of darkness, carrying small but deadly payloads heroin, pistols, ammunition, and sometimes even counterfeit currency. The Border Security Force (BSF) has reported dozens of interceptions each month, sometimes recovering multiple drones within a single night.

Each intercepted flight tells a larger story of attempts to destabilise Punjab’s social order, to flood its youth with narcotics, and to fund local gangster and extremist cells. The goal is not only to smuggle contraband but to create a parallel economy of fear and dependency that can corrode communities from within. For the security forces and Punjab Police, the challenge is immense, as technology itself becomes both a weapon and a shield.

In response, India has steadily upgraded its border infrastructure deploying anti-drone systems, night-vision radars, AI-powered detection units, and rapid-response ground teams. Coordination between central and state agencies ensures that every recovered payload leads to arrests down the chain, cutting off both the supply and the local receiver networks.

Parallel to these physical incursions runs a psychological one crafted through propaganda by small but vocal sections of the Sikh diaspora. Operating primarily from Canada, the UK, and the US, these groups have organised so-called “Khalistan referendums,” circulated distorted narratives of persecution, and used social media to amplify separatist sentiments.Yet the irony is sharp these narratives have little echo in Punjab itself. Within the state, most Sikhs deeply rooted in their families, farming traditions, and faith have no appetite for divisive politics. Their sense of identity is secure, their pride cultural rather than separatist. But the digital age has made even fringe ideas travel far and fast, finding vulnerable youth online those battling unemployment or drug addiction, searching for belonging in misplaced ideologies.

The government’s response has therefore combined lawful firmness with community partnership. Bans on extremist organisations under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA), sustained investigations by the National Investigation Agency (NIA), and diplomatic engagement with foreign governments form one front. The other is social encouraging digital literacy, youth employment, and community dialogues that reinforce belonging over bitterness.

Punjab’s struggle with drugs has long been intertwined with its struggle for social stability. What began as a health crisis has morphed into a security threat, where narcotics money fuels gang wars and extremist activity. Some gangs, even operating from prisons, act as logistical arms for cross-border handlers. Reports have revealed how drug proceeds fund weapon purchases, recruitment, and intimidation.

In this shadow world, ideology and organised crime blur into one another. That is why prison reform introducing advanced jammers, psychological counselling, and rehabilitation programs has become part of India’s security strategy. The aim is not only to punish but to prevent. By breaking the cycle of addiction, incarceration, and recruitment, the state is cutting off one of the most persistent roots of radicalisation.

What stands out amid these challenges is the steadfastness of Punjab’s Sikh community. Over the years, gurdwaras across the state have consciously refused to allow separatist propaganda. The Shiromani Gurdwara Parbandhak Committee (SGPC) has repeatedly asserted that the Guru’s house is for devotion and service not politics. Families, educators, and community elders have taken it upon themselves to guide the young away from the temptations of easy money or online radicalisation.

The modern Sikh identity, both within India and abroad, has evolved. Today, it is reflected not through militancy but through entrepreneurship, sport, philanthropy, and culture. Diaspora pride manifests in business success and humanitarian work, creating a positive global image of Sikhism as a faith of courage and compassion. In this transformation lies the deepest form of resistance one rooted in self-confidence rather than separatism.

The Modi government’s approach to Punjab’s challenge has been defined by two words - strength and inclusion. The first is visible in the crackdown on extremist and criminal networks. The second, in the steady investment in development and rehabilitation.

Border districts have received targeted infrastructure spending and employment schemes. Youth skill centres, rehabilitation programmes for former addicts, and vocational initiatives for surrendered extremists have been rolled out to ensure that every individual has a constructive stake in society. Such measures reduce alienation and reaffirm that the state’s goal is not punishment but partnership.

Law enforcement, meanwhile, has been reinforced by technology and coordination. The NIA’s successful busting of RPG and grenade-attack networks whose handlers operated abroad through encrypted messaging shows how intelligence-sharing and digital forensics have evolved. These are victories not just of policing but of democratic process, where evidence and due procedure prevail over brute force.

Security cannot be sustained by enforcement alone it must be co-created with citizens. In Punjab, this principle is being put into practice through women’s safety desks, cyber awareness workshops in schools, and police-community dialogues. When gurdwara committees, teachers, and youth groups become part of the security ecosystem, extremist propaganda finds no ground to grow.

This is the quiet triumph of India’s democracy, a model that neither suppresses dissent nor tolerates division. It listens, includes, and protects while drawing a firm line against violence.

Punjab’s modern war is fought not on battlefields, but in the airwaves, the dark web, and the hearts of its people. Its enemies are shapeless drugs, drones, disinformation but its defenders are many from soldiers on the border to farmers in the fields, from the intelligence officer to the school teacher.

Outsider provocations will continue, but Punjab today is stronger, wiser, and more connected than ever before. It has faced Partition, militancy, and agrarian crisis and each time, it has rebuilt itself. Today’s challenge is different, but the spirit of resilience is the same.

Peace in Punjab is not accidental; it is peace by design built on vigilance, faith, and the unyielding partnership between the Sikh community and the Indian state. That is the enduring triumph of democracy in action.