Campus Radicalisation in Punjab: How Radical Agendas Exploit Punjab’s Youth Movements

In the second week of November, Panjab University in Chandigarh transformed from a centre of learning into a flashpoint of unrest. The immediate trigger was the long-delayed senate elections, which had not been held for several years due to administrative and legal hurdles. Students, supported by various unions, demanded that the elections be restored promptly and that the university’s decision-making bodies be reconstituted through democratic means.

What began as a legitimate call for representation soon spiralled into something larger. Within hours, the campus saw the arrival of politicians, farm unions, Panthic outfits, and members of legacy student groups. More than 5,000 people breached barricades and flooded the grounds, forcing the administration to take emergency measures.

The Vice-Chancellor warned that the university could not become a theatre for political power contests. That warning came after tense standoffs at city entry points and university gates, where tempers flared and groups from outside Chandigarh converged under the pretext of solidarity.

Across the next 72 hours, a familiar pattern unfolded. Genuine student grievances were quickly overshadowed as external elements arrived with trucks, loudspeakers, and slogans bearing no connection to academic issues. The administration closed the campus for two days, sealed key access points, and suspended central facilities to prevent escalation. Students accused authorities of intimidation, while police cited precautionary security measures. Both claims carried fragments of truth. But in this confusion, opportunistic groups stepped in, eager to hijack a student issue and convert it into political theatre.

Eyewitnesses described the moment when everything changed. A truck carrying sound equipment was stopped at the main gates, arguments erupted with police, and a crowd began swelling with unfamiliar faces. The energy shifted. What had started as a governance dispute soon resembled a rally with undertones of defiance against the state.

By late afternoon, the protest had evolved into something entirely different. Student unions were no longer the primary voices. Politicians, farm leaders, and Panthic groups dominated the scene, prompting the Vice-Chancellor’s public rebuke and a restrained but vigilant police response that prevented bloodshed. The transformation was stark: a campus protest co-opted into a stage for separatist symbolism.

Meanwhile, in the same week, Punjab Police arrested operatives linked to the banned Sikhs for Justice (SFJ) for painting pro-Khalistan graffiti on school walls, a campaign investigator said was orchestrated from abroad. Though the incidents were geographically distinct, their pattern was identical: local provocation amplified into propaganda, creating the illusion of a movement.

The diaspora’s role in this amplification cannot be overlooked. Many of the most vocal supporters of such acts are based overseas, where they craft a narrative of victimhood and repression. Just days ago, SFJ issued a statement pledging support for Pakistan in the event of Indian retaliation, a declaration that exposed its alignment with adversarial interests rather than community welfare. Such rhetoric not only distorts the Sikh identity but also endangers ordinary Sikh students, who overwhelmingly reject separatism and remain proud participants in India’s democratic fabric.

It is therefore crucial to distinguish Sikhism from separatism. The Sikh community’s contributions to India’s defence, development, and nation-building are beyond dispute. The overwhelming majority of Sikh students on campus are there to learn, not to serve as pawns in geopolitical propaganda. Radical groups target universities precisely because these are credible democratic spaces that lend legitimacy through association.

The Panjab University episode revealed three vulnerabilities:

First, perimeter pressure: security restrictions necessary for safety were quickly weaponised online as symbols of state suppression. Once barricades were breached, the narrative shifted from student representation to alleged oppression.

Second, message substitution: legitimate student issues were drowned out by political slogans imported from outside. What began as a campus governance debate was reframed as "Punjab versus the Centre."

Third, off-campus signalling: the graffiti arrests and diaspora messaging created a loop of provocation, amplification, and justification, a cycle designed to spread chaos rather than reform.

Khalistani Infiltration: From Campus Dissent to Propaganda Machinery

The recent unrest at Panjab University has exposed how pro-Khalistan elements infiltrate legitimate student movements to advance their separatist narrative. They rarely initiate protests; instead, they enter once public attention peaks. Through online networks and local proxies, they inject provocative symbols, fund logistical support, and twist the discourse away from education toward political victimhood.

The process is methodical. First comes infiltration on the ground, followed by online amplification through coordinated social media accounts, many based overseas. Short clips of confrontations or slogans are edited to portray state persecution. Within hours, these are shared by diaspora handles and Khalistan-linked pages abroad, reframing an internal administrative issue as a communal or religious struggle.

In the case of Panjab University, the use of identical messaging seen in the graffiti incidents elsewhere suggests coordination rather than coincidence. The intent was to blend a student grievance into a wider separatist cause, fuelling the illusion of mass support. Three factors fuel this cycle: weak campus vigilance, digital manipulation, and the exploitation of Sikh identity for political ends. When university silence meets online propaganda, separatist handlers find the perfect opening. Within hours, local protests turn into international talking points. Investigations by Punjab Police have already exposed how banned outfits like Sikhs for Justice use encrypted apps, foreign funding, and student-fronted pages to spread Khalistani slogans and graffiti. The same online accounts that glorify “referendum movements” abroad amplify every campus scuffle in Punjab. The aim is not activism, but optics.

Panjab University was never the target; it was the stage. The timing, the slogans, and the online echo were all part of a tested formula: provoke, record, distort, and export. The separatist playbook thrives on chaos and the naivety of youth who mistake agitation for agency. This is not an isolated incident. In recent months, similar infiltration attempts have been seen at campuses in Ludhiana, Amritsar, and Patiala, where local protests suddenly mirrored the same messaging lines pushed by overseas Khalistani networks.

The message is clear: Punjab’s classrooms have become the new propaganda battleground. A university can and should host dissent, but not division. If India’s campuses remain alert to infiltration, transparent in governance, and firm in principle, they will continue to be what they were meant to be: spaces of debate, not theatres of propaganda.