Pashmina, famously known as ‘soft gold,’ is closely tied to the craft legacy of Kashmir and is sourced from the undercoat of Changthangi goats, native to the high altitudes of the Himalayas. Over the years, questions revolving around authenticity and fiber traceability have gained urgency, especially with the climate pressures affecting global luxury fibre markets.
Dr Babar Afzal, a former IT analyst in India, the UK, the US, and the Middle East, is the founder of the Pashmina Goat Project and has now emerged as an advocate for bringing transparency to the framework and raising awareness around genuine pashmina. Living among nomadic shepherds and artisans, Afzal’s work spans activism, art, and direct community engagement with pashmina shepherds and weavers.
Afzal's story is one of impact, so naturally, we have some questions for him. He speaks to us about what pushed him to dedicate his life to this cause, what impact he wishes to create with the venture, and more.
Dr Babar Afzal: It was a quiet breaking point between who I had become and what I could no longer ignore. At the time, I was living what many would call a successful life, growing comfortably as a Silicon Valley technologist and business consultant, advising companies on technology, scale, innovation and capital efficiency. I was surrounded by conversations about growth curves and future possibilities. And yet, thousands of miles away, on the farthest edges of the Himalayas, nearly 600 miles from my own home in J&K, 25,000 pashmina goats died abruptly, not from neglect, but from climate shifts so sudden that ancient wisdom could not adapt in time.
I realised that I understood systems and capital deeply, how to optimise them, scale them and make them efficient. In that moment, continuing to operate inside a closed loop that only amplified my individual success felt like intellectual and moral dishonesty. Not because technology or progress is wrong, but because progress without conscience is incomplete.
I did not leave my Silicon Valley career to save anyone; I left because progress without conscience felt like intellectual dishonesty. The Pashmina Goat Project was not born out of charity. It was born out of accountability to the land, to the animals, to the communities, and to history itself.
Dr Afzal: Over the past decade as a shepherd, I have watched glaciers retreat like tired elders, their silence heavier than any alarm. I have walked grazing routes that once fed thousands of goats, now reduced to memory. I have seen snowfall arrive too early, vanish too soon, or not arrive at all, breaking patterns that had guided nomadic life for centuries.
What struck me most was not that pastoral knowledge failed, but that nature itself had changed faster than memory could adapt. The nomads were not careless; they were faithful to a rhythm that no longer existed. Living with these communities taught me a truth that no report ever could: climate change does not begin as an environmental crisis. It begins as a food crisis when grass no longer grows where it should. It becomes a dignity crisis when families are forced to sell animals at throwaway prices or abandon their way of life. Ultimately, it becomes cultural extinction when a civilisation built on movement, memory, and mutual care quietly dissolves. In the Himalayas, climate change is not a theory; it is the moment when ancient knowledge fails because nature itself has changed faster than memory.
Dr Afzal: For decades, pashmina was celebrated at the far end of the luxury spectrum, wrapped in reverence, pricing, and prestige, while the people at its origin slowly disappeared from the narrative. Goatherds, spinners, and weavers were reduced to romantic footnotes, invoked in marketing copy but absent from economics, decision-making, and ownership. To build a fair value chain, we had to begin by reimagining luxury itself, not as rarity alone, but as responsibility.
At the Pashmina Goat Project, we believe the future of luxury lies in visible hands, accountable systems, and shared ownership of value. When the people who protect the goats and craft the fibre are finally seen not as beneficiaries but as stakeholders, pashmina returns to what it was always meant to be: an expression of balance between nature, skill, and conscience.
Dr Afzal: For decades, conversations around heritage textiles were framed almost exclusively through aesthetics and craftsmanship. International visibility allowed a shift in authorship, from being spoken about to speaking for themselves. Over this decade-long journey, I became a pashmina shepherd and artisan, and from that experience this body of pashmina-based art was born. We have long exported pashmina to the world while importing inequality.
When pashmina began to be seen not merely as an Indian export or luxury commodity, but as a global case study in ethical luxury, climate resilience and community-led systems, it invited governments, institutions and investors to engage not with sentiment but with structure. This recognition has helped reposition pashmina as a living ecosystem carrying lessons for how luxury can exist responsibly in a climate-uncertain world. It signalled that heritage and innovation are not opposites but natural collaborators when dignity and transparency sit at the centre. The conversation shifted from handmade to hand-governed, from craft revival to community ownership.
Dr Afzal: The changes over the last decade have been unmistakable and unforgiving. What was once a predictable rhythm of cold has fractured into sudden, violent shifts. Livestock mortality has increased dramatically, not because of negligence, but because centuries-old knowledge is being tested by a climate that no longer behaves as it once did.
What we are witnessing is not gradual change but ecological disorientation. Yet the most effective responses have not come from outside interventions, but from local intelligence, amplified thoughtfully by technology. The future of climate resilience lies not in imposed solutions, but in co-creating survival with those who know the land by heart. When communities are treated not as beneficiaries but as co-authors of solutions, sustainability stops being a slogan and becomes a lived practice.