What is the average person willing to give up for a few precious ounces of cashmere? Whether it’s a pair of $75 gloves on sale or a pajama set retailing for more than $1,000, the level of sacrifice (or indulgence) is often defined by the limit on one’s credit card. Sonam Wangchuk has sacrificed far more than a maxed-out Visa. In the last year, he has gone on two hunger strikes, walked from the city of Leh in India’s High Himalayas to Delhi (more than 500 miles), and most recently ventured to 18,000 feet to carve out part of a glacier that he hand-carried to the United Nations in New York, which declared 2025 the “International Year of Glaciers’ Preservation.”
Wangchuk’s efforts have nothing to do with luxury, he is concerned about livelihoods–specifically the livelihoods of the Ladakhi people, many of whom completely depend on their herds of cashmere goats and yaks for survival.
Between the shift in global economies, national politics, and a warming planet, some might suggest the nomads of Ladakh (and others) may one day become extinct; an unsettling reality that goes unrecognized throughout much of the world. However, thanks to Wangchuk’s unparalleled activism (and his 1.3 million followers on Instagram) there is growing awareness about this situation as climate change continues to impact the life of herders in the glacial regions.
In 1988, the Students’ Educational and Cultural Movement of Ladakh (SECMOL) was founded by Wangchuk and a group of young Ladakhis with the aim of reforming Ladakh’s educational system. Born in Alchi, a remote village in the High Himalayas, Wangchuk was nine years old before he was able to attend school in Srinagar more than 200 miles away. Upon his arrival, Wangchuk realized both his language and Ladakhi background made him an easy target among the Kashmiris. His inability to understand the local language was often mistaken for stupidity. As a result, Wangchuk evolved into an agent of change both as a reformer of Ladakh’s education system and an environmentalist —topics that rarely garnered headline news at the time.
SECMOL differs from traditional schools in its philosophical approach to education and campus design. The campus is largely solar powered, using solar electricity for its heating, electricity, and pumping along with two solar cookers and solar water heaters for bathing. Of particular note are the buildings, which are designed using passive solar heating and can stay warm even during the coldest months when the temperature can drop to 20° (F).
In the world of Wild Fibers, many are familiar with Konchok Stobgais; the gentleman who manages the Pangong Cashmere Center which was funded through the generosity of the magazine’s subscribers. Stobgais grew up in a semi-nomadic home and freely admits he would have flunked out of the traditional school system had SECMOL not embraced a different approach to education. As a result, he graduated from SECMOL with an altered vision for his future and an enhanced respect for the planet. Wangchuk believes that education and care for the environment are inseparable.
When it was time to design the cashmere center to comfortably accommodate 60 spinners in the winter, Stobgais insisted we replicate the same passive solar system used at SECMOL (and we did!). Stobgais is equally concerned about the welfare of others. In the past year, he has trained an additional 50 women in Ladakh to spin cashmere as a means of earning extra income, and in the past few weeks, he has trained another 40 women from the center to knit and weave thanks to a grant by Royal Enfield enabling the purchase of more than a dozen new looms.
The “International Year of Glaciers’ Preservation” came to the foreground when Wangchuk tucked away his pickax atop Khardung-La Pass and packed the precious ice blocks with several kilos of cashmere for the long journey to the United Nations in New York City. What better way to showcase the insulating qualities of this luxury fiber while simultaneously representing the very people at risk?
During his 12-day journey, Wangchuk presented his traveling glacier at the UN office in Delhi followed by additional presentations at Harvard and MIT. At each event, he would unpack the ice from the cashmere and set it in the middle of the conference table where it slowly began to melt.
Exactly as it is doing around the world.
Although many understand melting glaciers are contributing to a rise in ocean levels that may one day submerge coastal habitats if not entire cities, the glacial runoff in the mountains is already having a deadly impact. Underground lakes forming within the glacier are now bursting open in warmer weather causing deadly flash floods; these fast-moving waters and mudslides come crashing through the valley leaving villagers to flee for their lives. Historically, the annual rainfall in Ladakh is less than two inches.
On August 6, 2010, an unprecedented cloudburst triggered a flash flood through the city of Leh killing a reported 260 Ladakhis. To a community that has always lived in harmony with nature and respected the need to work in balance with their habitat, the catastrophe not only confounded them but instilled a deep concern about the viability of their future.
Climate change has not only caused excessive melting but also an era of unpredictability. The glacial runoff used for planting crops in the spring including apples, potatoes, and barley is no longer reliable. The snow now melts too early and many of the glaciers have receded too far to reach the crops. One of Wangchuk’s towering(!) achievements is the implementation of the ice stupa; a conical-shaped artificial glacier in the shape of a Buddhist shrine.
In 2013, the students at SECMOL developed an ice stupa prototype for the high desert, wherein a portion of the river is diverted onto the landscape through a series of pipes. As the water spurts out it gradually grows into a towering frozen mound.
Channeling and freezing water for irrigation has been employed for centuries. In the 1980s, civil engineer Chewang Norphel, known as the “Ice Man” of Ladakh built cascade-type walls across streams to slow the water flow and allow it to freeze. Wangchuk’s ice stupa is angled in such a way that only a limited amount of its surface is exposed to the sun, which, in turn, slows down the speed at which it melts—a system better suited for Ladakh’s high mountain conditions and agricultural needs.
In 2015, the ice stupa grew larger. Using $125,000 raised on a crowdfunding site, Wangchuk built a 64-foot-tall ice stupa. The following year, he won the prestigious Rolex Award of Enterprise (2016). It is an engineering marvel in the fight against climate change. Ten years on, multiple ice stupas have been erected throughout Ladakh. The largest one is in Shara Phuktsey, standing 110-feet high and storing up to 7.5 million liters of water.
However, innovation is only part of the solution to climate change. The traditional livelihood of the Ladakhi people is further threatened by the passage of the Jammu and Kashmir Reorganisation Act (2019) which excised Ladakh from the State of Jammu and Kashmir. Ladakh is no longer part of a state in India, it is a Union Territory which means it no longer has the necessary legislative support for self-governance or representation.
The only way Ladakh can garner the necessary channels to advocate for themselves is through the adoption of the Sixth Schedule; part of the Indian Constitution designed to protect the interests of the tribal populations. The Sixth Schedule will enable the Ladakhis to safeguard their interests in matters including natural resources and infrastructure.
According to Wangchuk, "The sixth schedule gives locals not just a right but a responsibility to conserve their climate, forests, rivers, and glaciers."
On March 6, 2024, Wangchuk began a 21-day Climate Fast hunger strike in Leh in an effort to get Sixth Schedule status for Ladakh. In October 2024, again accompanied by thousands of fellow protestors, a second hunger strike was held in Delhi and lasted 16 days.
Ladakh still does not have Sixth Schedule status. But no one else better understands that sacrificing in the name of cashmere is about livelihood—not luxury.
*This article is part of our Sunday Read subscription-only series. However, because of its universal importance, we have made it available to everyone.
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