From the Strait of Hormuz to the Himalayas: Globalisation and the Vulnerability of Ladakh’s Tourism Economy
In his remarkable memoir, Tibetan Caravans, the Ladakhi caravan leader and writer Abdul Wahid Radhu recounts a vivid scene from his journey across the Changthang plateau toward Lhasa. Writing about his encounter with the Changpa nomads, he observes:
“Almost all of them wear clothes of sheepskin. They live on meat, tea with butter and sometimes tsampa. Bread seems unknown to them. They are marvelous shepherds, capable of climbing the highest peaks… whilst I was watching them, a few boys and little girls, the picture of innocence, were playing with some pebbles around big rocks, unconcerned about the outside world, except for the cold wind which lashed them. How could they know that a war has broken out elsewhere, in countries which are said to be civilized?”
Radhu wrote these lines in 1942, when Europe was engulfed in the devastation of World War II. Entire continents were burning, cities were being bombed, and millions of lives were being lost. Yet in the remote highlands of Ladakh and the Tibetan plateau, life continued quietly. Nomadic children played among rocks and pastures, unaware of the catastrophe unfolding thousands of kilometres away.
Radhu’s observation was more than a simple travel note. It was also a subtle critique of modern civilisation. The very regions that proudly called themselves “civilised” were producing some of the most destructive wars in human history, while pastoral communities living in harsh environments remained immersed in their own worlds, largely untouched by distant conflicts. The Changpa nomads Radhu encountered lived one of the most demanding lifestyles on earth, moving with their herds across windswept plateaus. Yet despite the harshness of their environment, their lives were deeply connected to nature and community. The wars of distant continents did not disturb their pastures or their daily rhythms. Geography and isolation offered them a kind of protection.
The world Radhu described no longer exists. Today, the once-isolated Himalayan region of Ladakh is deeply integrated into global economic networks. Tourism, aviation, energy markets, and supply chains now connect this remote landscape to events unfolding thousands of kilometres away. Ironically, the very processes of globalisation that brought prosperity to the region have also made it far more vulnerable to distant crises.
The current tensions involving Iran, Israel and the United States, though geographically far from the Himalayas, have already begun to ripple across global energy markets. Much of the world’s oil supply passes through the Strait of Hormuz, making it one of the most critical energy chokepoints in the world. Any instability in this narrow maritime corridor immediately pushes fuel prices upward across global markets.
For a tourism-dependent region like Ladakh, the consequences are felt almost immediately. Rising fuel prices push up airfares and transportation costs, making travel to remote destinations significantly more expensive. According to global benchmarks, the average price of aviation fuel recently climbed to $173.91 per barrel, nearly double the levels recorded earlier this year. Airlines have already begun adjusting to these rising costs. Air India, for instance, has announced the introduction of a fuel surcharge on flights starting March 12.
For Ladakh’s tourism industry, these developments come at a particularly sensitive time. The tourism season in the region is yet to begin. Each year, Ladakh gradually opens its doors to travellers in April, when the first signs of spring appear in the villages along the lower Indus Valley. The Apricot Blossom Festival, scheduled to begin on April 8 this year, marks the start of the tourism season. Villages in Ladakh’s well-known apricot belt such as Garkone, Dah-Bema, and Karkitchoo in Kargil, as well as Skurbuchan, Takmachik, and Turtuk in Leh, welcome visitors to witness the brief yet spectacular bloom of apricot orchards. For many local tour operators, this seasonal event forms the centrepiece around which early spring itineraries are carefully curated and promoted.
However, weeks before the first tourists are expected to arrive, anxiety has already begun to spread among people working in the travel industry. Hotel owners, and local tour operators are closely watching the global situation with growing concern. The tourism economy in Ladakh is highly seasonal, concentrated within a short window of five to six months. Any disruption at the start of the season can affect livelihoods for the entire year.
Adding to the mounting pressures are rising fuel and cooking costs. Commercial LPG cylinder prices across cities in India have increased by about ₹114.5 effective March 7, a change that directly affects hotels, restaurants, and homestays in Ladakh. Reports from several parts of the country are already highlighting disruptions in LPG supply, with hotel association bodies in Bengaluru and Chennai warning that hospitality establishments may be forced to halt operations if the situation continues. This is a particularly worrying development for Ladakh, where most essential supplies including fuel and cooking gas must be transported over long and logistically challenging mountain highways.
For many in the region, these concerns revive memories of earlier crises that exposed the fragility of Ladakh’s tourism economy. During the COVID-19 pandemic, travel came to a sudden halt. Flights were suspended, borders closed, and Ladakh’s tourism industry collapsed almost entirely. Hotels remained empty, taxis stood idle, and thousands of families who depended on tourism income struggled to survive.
Even regional instability has demonstrated how vulnerable the tourism sector can be. The Pahalgam incident 2025 led to a sharp drop in tourist arrivals across the wider Himalayan region. Data shared in the Lok Sabha on 9 November 2026 by Union Tourism Minister Gajendra Singh Shekhawat revealed the extent of the impact. Domestic tourist arrivals in Ladakh declined from 2.92 lakh in 2024 to 2.12 lakh in 2025, a fall of about 27.3 percent. The situation was even more severe in Kargil, where arrivals dropped dramatically from 3.20 lakh to just 93,389, marking a decline of nearly 70.9 percent. This downturn followed the attack in Pahalgam and the subsequent military standoff between India and Pakistan, which lasted for nearly three weeks and significantly dampened travel sentiment across the region.
Such events illustrate a deeper paradox. Globalisation has undoubtedly brought new opportunities to Ladakh. Tourism has improved livelihoods, generated employment, and connected the region with the rest of the world. But it has also created new forms of vulnerability. A war in West Asia, a pandemic in another continent, or a security incident in a neighbouring region can suddenly destabilise the economic foundations of a remote Himalayan society.
In Radhu’s time, the children he saw playing among the rocks of Changthang remained untouched by the wars of distant continents. Geography shielded them from the chaos of the outside world. Today, that protective distance has disappeared. The irony is striking. A war that is still geographically distant from Ladakh can nonetheless create anxiety in its villages weeks before the first blossoms of spring appear. In the interconnected world of the 21st century, the mountains no longer insulate communities from global shocks.
About the Author: Fida Hussain Tangrhong holds a PhD in Inner Asian Studies, School of International Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. His research focuses on the postcolonial study of Western travel writings on Ladakh. He previously served as a Non-Resident Associate Fellow at the Centre of Excellence for Himalayan Studies, Shiv Nadar Institution of Eminence, Delhi-NCR. He is also co-founder and director of Ladakh Backpackers, a local travel company based in Ladakh.