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SRINAGAR, JAMMU AND KASHMIR, INDIA - 2024/04/11: A Kashmiri photojournalist captures the scene as an Indian Army soldier takes position during a gun battle in Pulwama, where police claim to have killed a militant who joined an armed group just two weeks prior. The encounter marks the first in three months, highlighting the persistent tensions in the region. Photo: Faisal Bashir - Getty ImagesSRINAGAR, JAMMU AND KASHMIR, INDIA - 2024/04/11: A Kashmiri photojournalist captures the scene as an Indian Army soldier takes position during a gun battle in Pulwama, where police claim to have killed a militant who joined an armed group just two weeks prior. The encounter marks the first in three months, highlighting the persistent tensions in the region. Photo: Faisal Bashir - Getty Images

In the dim light of his laptop screen, a Kashmiri journalist reads his story one last time. He reads the draft again. It’s a factual story. But is it safe? He deletes a line, then another. Outside, the city sleeps. Inside, the story shrinks. “The idea of a safe story is always shifting when it comes to the authorities. What is a perfectly legitimate story for a journalist can be deemed as an anti-national story by the government,” he says. He doesn’t want to be named.

For journalists in Kashmir, every story is a negotiation between truth and untruth. To report the truth is to invite risk―of coercion, of surveillance, of labels. But to self-censor, to omit and dilute, is to let untruths take root and allow half-told stories fill the space where truth should be told.

Between Us And Them: Outlook’s Next Issue ‘The Grid’

BY Outlook Web Desk

Soon after the abrogation of Article 370 in 2019, Qazi Shibli, editor-in-chief of The Kashmiriyat, says journalists became the last voices left in a silent valley. “There was silence in Kashmir; no activists or politicians were allowed to speak out.”

As a result, Shibli says, a void was created. “And journalists were forced to unwillingly fill that void. So, people starting expecting a lot from us―in a place where every truth has a counter-truth. Where objectivity is constantly questioned and living up to that expectation has become harder than ever.”

After the new media policy was implemented in Kashmir in 2020, which, among other things, authorises government officers to decide what constitutes “fake news”, Shibli says journalists often have no choice but to self-censor.

“There is always a story tomorrow to live for,” he says. “Sometimes the choice isn’t just about our own safety; it is about protecting the people/sources we base our reports on. We can’t put them at risk just for the sake of clicks and a byline. That’s our responsibility as journalists.”

Shibli has been jailed twice since 2019. In July of that year, he was arrested under the Public Safety Act (PSA) for tweeting about additional paramilitary deployment in Kashmir. A year later, he was detained again for “security reasons”.

“This is the price we pay for reporting the truth, for resisting lies,” he says. “The cases may get dismissed eventually, but the process itself becomes a punishment.”

During the communication blackout in the 2019 lockdown, journalists in Kashmir were very active in covering the unprecedented changes taking place in the region. But by 2020, the space for independent journalism started to shrink. Masrat Zahra, a photojournalist, and Gowhar Geelani, a well-known writer, were among the first to face charges under the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act (UAPA). Since then, many journalists have been routinely summoned for questioning and their work scrutinised.

One of the biggest safety nets that was there before 2019―the Kashmir Press Club―is also gone, as it was taken down in 2022. Now, journalists don't have an independent body that can speak about their issues or come to their rescue if some journalists are booked by the authorities. It was also an important meeting point that brought independent journalists together and gave them a space to ideate.

The building of a closed Kashmir Press Club after takeover by the Jammu & Kashmir government | Photo by Saqib Majeed/SOPA Images/LightRocket via Getty Images The building of a closed Kashmir Press Club after takeover by the Jammu & Kashmir government | Photo by Saqib Majeed/SOPA Images/LightRocket via Getty Images

“In 2022, when there was a huge crackdown on journalists and dissidents, many reporters stepped back,” says Gafira Qadir, an independent journalist. “As many stories went unreported, it created a gap between people and us. At the same time, people also grew tired―tired of sharing their pain to the world and seeing nothing change,” says Qadir.

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“A number of journalists now struggle to build trust with the people,” says Qadir who’s been a journalist for over five years now. As stories are caught between truth and untruth, platforms for Kashmiri journalists are also shrinking, she says. “We no longer have platforms in Kashmir that help us to sharpen our skills or become better journalists.”

“Editors from outside Kashmir, who once welcomed our story pitches, now have little or no interest in our stories now. The world is full of sad stories, and ours no longer seem to matter,fef777” says Qadir. And when they do, the expectations have changed. Some editors now want “positive” stories from Kashmir. “I’ve had editors specifically ask me to find such stories. But if you do, your own people start questioning your integrity,” she says.

Qadir adds that the flood of social media journalism has further blurred the line between ‘truth and untruth’. “With mics and cameras in the hands of anyone who call themselves journalists, it has somehow raised many questions on the ethics, credibility and authenticity of all journalists.”

Resistance Is Another Name For Kashmir

BY Ather Zia

They say a journalist should never become the story. But in Kashmir, journalism itself is often the first story. Fahad Shah, a journalist and founder of the now-banned The Kashmir Walla, had spent over a decade building the magazine into one of the last independent news outlets in the region. It was one of the few news platforms publishing critical news and investigations on human rights abuses. In February 2022, Shah became the news. He was arrested under the UAPA for allegedly “glorifying terrorism”, through a “seditious” article. In the following months after his arrest, he secured bail from various courts, but each time he was again arrested in a different case. He was booked in four different cases—three of them under the UAPA and one under the PSA. He spent 21 months in multiple detention centres and prisons before being released on bail in November 2023.

While he was in prison, Shah learned from his family that the government had banned The Kashmir Walla. “In prison, other inmates came to me and expressed sympathy. Everyone felt I had lost something big. And within me, I kept thinking the whole time—all those years from 2010, when I started The Kashmir Walla, till 2023 flashed before my eyes.”

“It was as if I had lost my child,” he says.

'The Kashmir Wala' reporter Asma Bhat reacts while vacating their office in Srinagar | Photo: Faisal Bashir/SOPA Images/LightRocket via Getty Images 'The Kashmir Wala' reporter Asma Bhat reacts while vacating their office in Srinagar | Photo: Faisal Bashir/SOPA Images/LightRocket via Getty Images

In a region, where the story isn’t what’s told, but remains untold, the burden has pushed some to step away. A female journalist, who started her career in 2012, eventually left the profession post-2019. “It wasn’t because of the pressure on our reporting—though that was constant. My stories were also toned down to a level that they lost their message. It was a conscious decision to leave the field.”

“I was always driven by passion,” she adds, “Even now, whenever something happens, I still see it through a reporter’s eyes. And it hurts, not being one anymore.” “It’s painful that I left, but compromising my ethics would have been even worse.”

Jehangir Ali, J&K correspondent for The Wire, recalls a chilling moment when the police questioned him about a story. An officer asked, “Why do you never cover stories in favour of the government?” Ali was taken aback.

“Just like doctors get to write prescriptions for patients, journalists are trained to decide which stories to cover and which not to. Our job is to hold the government accountable and not promote it,” he says.

Being accused by the government, he believes, means he is doing his job right. But what troubles him most is how easily journalists get labelled in Kashmir.

In October 2023, Ali was called “part of the separatist ecosystem” by Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha after he reported on allegations by an IAS officer about alleged irregularities in a government scheme. He was not named directly, but the reference was clear. “This label almost traumatised me to the point where any random person on the street seemed like they could be coming to arrest me.”

“As a journalist, you never want to be labelled. These labels don’t just affect you; they affect your families. You want to shield your family from the horrors that surround you,” he says.

The first day of the festival was marked as 'Sukh Ashray Diwas', during which Agnihotri distributed school kits to eight children as part of the 'Sukh Ashray Yojana', a scheme aimed at supporting underprivileged children. In addition, he inaugurated a development exhibition at Amb Sports Ground, visiting stalls that showcased the accomplishments, plans, and programmes of various state government departments.

He adds that there’s fear in Kashmir’s media. “Many stories never get published, not just the risky ones, but even the ones that seem harmless. “You never know which story might land you in trouble,” says Ali, who also writes for French daily Le Monde.

Four months ago, as Kashmir elected its first government since being categorised as a Union Territory, there was “cautious” hope in the media. In his first press conference, Chief Minister Omar Abdullah said he wants to see a free and open media that can report facts on the ground without any interference or pressure.

But on the ground, journalists say, nothing has changed.

The stories continue. Some are written. Some remain unwritten. But the choices behind them tell their own story―of truth and untruth. hellokittyvip