When a photojournalist becomes a terrorist: An interview with Masrat Zahra

Srinagar, Indian-administered Kashmir — On April 20, 2020, Masrat Zahra, an independent Kashmiri photojournalist, joined the many students, activists, protestors, and fellow journalists taken into custody under India’s Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Amendment Bill, 2019, an amendment to a pre-existing anti-terror law (the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act, or UAPA) that enables the state to designate individuals as terrorists if it believes that said person “has committed or participated in acts of terrorism, prepared for terrorism, promoted terrorism, or is otherwise involved in terrorism” — without clearly defining what constitutes as terrorist activity.

The amendment was passed in Indian Parliament last August, almost perfectly timed to India’s Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) unilaterally revoking the special constitutional status of Jammu and Kashmir on August 5, 2019. The decision plunged a population of more than seven million people into several months of rigorous lockdown and communication blackout. In that time, journalists were detained and harassed.

Zahra, 26, has been covering conflict in Kashmir for the last four years and regularly posts her photos on social media. But on April 18, she shared a photo on her Instagram, which had been published earlier in The New Humanitarian, of newspaper clippings and blood-stained bank notes a Kashmiri widow had kept—the belongings that were on her late husband when he was fatally shot by Indian forces in 2000.

Police swiftly filed a first investigation report (FIR) for Zahra, charging her with “uploading anti-national posts with criminal intention to induce the youth and to promote offenses against public tranquillity,” as well as for “uploading posts that tantamount to glorify the anti-national activities and dent the image of law enforcing agencies besides causing disaffection against the country.” She was summoned by the police one day after the charges against her were announced and released later that same day.

One Free Press Coalition, a collection of nearly 40 leading news organizations, listed Zahra’s case among the 10 “most urgent” cases of threats to press freedom for the month of June. Zahra was also recently awarded the Anja Niedringhaus Courage in Photojournalism Award, given annually by the International Women’s Media Foundation to a woman photojournalist “whose work reflects courage and dedication.”

Women Under Siege spoke to Zahra over the phone about her terrorism charge and the work she sees for herself ahead. The interview has been edited for clarity.

Women Under Siege: Walk us through what happened and how you were charged.

Masrat Zahra: I received a phone call from Srinagar’s Cyber Police Station on April 18 asking me to report to them regarding an investigation. I had no idea why there would be an investigation about me. I told them I couldn’t come at that time. Then I managed to speak to some senior journalists and members of the Kashmir Press Club. By the evening, Director of Information and Public Relations Syed Sehrish Asgar assured me that the matter was settled, and I needn’t go anywhere.

On the morning of April 20, I woke up to news on social media that a woman journalist had been booked under the UAPA. I instantly knew it was me.

I am not exactly sure why I was targeted. It could’ve been — which, it most probably is — to send a message to other journalists: “If we booked a woman under terrorism charges, we can do this to all of you.” Or, maybe it’s because I’m one of the only women photojournalists to cover the conflict, and my work brings forward a female perspective when before we had only seen it from a male perspective; maybe that made them uncomfortable.

The charges against you didn’t identify you as a journalist but, rather, as a social media user.

MZ: The police’s statement said “a Facebook user named Masrat Zahra” had been booked. It was clear that they wanted to conceal my profession so that it wouldn’t invite criticism or look that bad or serious to the world.

You were summoned to the police station on April 21 for questioning. Tell us what took place there.

MZ: They showed me a photograph I took about two years ago, which was published by Getty Images. There was a procession of Shia Muslims in Kashmir, and they were carrying a poster of Burhan Wani (a famous militant commander who was killed by Indian forces). The police said I was glorifying terrorism and inciting youth with this photograph. I told them that it was a situational shot — I happened to be there, and I took it; I just showed what actually took place. I clearly told them that it is my work and I will not disown it. They said they will do their investigation. I have not heard from them since.

It’s been over a month since then, and you say you have not heard from them, you have not been detained either. Why do you think that is?

MZ: I don’t understand what investigation photos published by Getty Images and other international publications need, but as far as I understand it, they [are trying] to put me in limbo so that I’m unable to continue my work. This rein of UAPA they have put around my neck, they can pull whenever I make them uncomfortable. If a fair investigation or trial was initiated, these charges wouldn’t stand for more than two minutes in a court of law.

Keeping me in this state of uncertainty is actually the worst thing they can do to me, but I am more resolved than ever to tell the obscure stories of human suffering and pain caused by the conflict here, which, in the words of Salman Rushdie, the world has chosen to ignore.

Do you fear any social or economic consequences?

MZ: Both. When I found out I was booked, the first thought that ran through my mind was: what will I tell my parents, and how? In a conservative society like ours, for a woman to get involved in police matters like these, it can smear her name and ruin her life. My parents are worried that I might not get married. Even now, people tell my parents in a derisive tone, “We heard your daughter was detained,” which, in fact, I was not.

As far as economic consequences are concerned, that remains to be seen, but I think it will impact me. Indian publications and organizations may think twice before using my work, and many may not prefer it at all.

Journalists in India, as well as in Kashmir, have often been surveilled by the state, the most recent example of which is the case of Pegasus spyware, in which more than 100 human rights defenders and journalists in India were targeted in an attack in May 2019. Do you think you’re under surveillance now?

MZ: I strongly feel so. All the time, my phone behaves in a way that I feel I am being monitored. I feel there is a third person who is listening to my phone calls, like there is a jammer: the voice is delayed and not clear despite the network being good. Even outside, I feel I am always being looked at. On social media, I try to be more conscious about which posts I shouldn’t retweet or like, which is very horrible because I should feel free to click on whatever I want on social media.

How have these charges impacted your work, if at all, and how has your work been under lockdown?

MZ: When the lockdown was first imposed in Kashmir in March, I decided not to work until things were back to normal. But when these charges came in April, I could no longer sit at home. I wanted to work harder than before. I knew that if I sat at home, that would just further discourage me. I took up assignments during lockdown (which ended up being only an extension of the previous lockdown imposed in August) in Kashmir during Ramadan, and I also continue to work on my longer-term projects on women and children in conflict.

Tell us what it was like working under the lockdown imposed last August. It must’ve been impossible to work as press under the communication blackout, as well as terrifying.

MZ: Yes. There was absolutely no way of communicating, let alone sending our work to editors. We decided to document what was happening and keep it until we were able to bring it out to the world. After a few days, some journalists managed to smuggle out SD cards and pen drives to New Delhi by waiting outside the airport and handing it along with contact details to any reliable-looking person traveling to Delhi. When that person reached Delhi, they would call the editor and inform them that there is a package from Kashmir for them.

Sometime later, the authorities established a “media facilitation center” with a mere four computers and a horribly slow internet. Each person could access the internet for only fifteen minutes. There were surveillance concerns as well: once, I logged in and found some of my new emails had already been read.

We’ve been working under such tough conditions, but we’ve never sat back in silence.

Now these UAPA’s and FIR’s are direct attempts to stifle our voices. They want journalists to peddle the state’s narrative of every event so that they can do what they want without any disturbance.

To that point, considering how difficult it is for journalists here, what motivated you to become a journalist, especially with so few women professionals in the field?

MZ: As I mentioned, I felt a lack of female perspective in the coverage of the conflict. When I would go out, I would only see male journalists with a camera. I used to wonder why there was never a woman photojournalist. There were horrifying stories from many women, even in my own neighborhood, that needed to be told, and I decided to do that very thing. I have noticed that people, particularly women, open up to me easily, and are more comfortable in sharing their sorrows and stories with me than [they would be with] my male colleagues. They tell me things that they may hesitate to tell a man.

My parents weren’t encouraging, especially not my mother. They knew it meant that I would have to go to conflict areas and faraway villages. It was an exhausting job to make them understand that being a doctor is as full of uncertainty in Kashmir as being a photojournalist. But I was adamant and continued to study journalism. When I started going out on assignments to the field, slowly, they became used to the idea.

But they completely stood by me when they found out about the UAPA. They told me, “You have not done anything wrong, so you don't need to worry.” This, together with the global support I received, gave me strength to fight for myself.

Are you hopeful or optimistic about the future of journalism in Kashmir?

MZ: No matter what level of censorship or clampdown is enforced in Kashmir, the stories will always find a way to reach the outside world. Kashmiri journalists have recently won the 2020 Pulitzer Prize for feature photography in recognition of the very photos that, with much difficulty, they managed to smuggle out to New Delhi after the August 5 lockdown.

I believe that these are dark times, and although there is no sign of them passing anytime soon, we have no choice but to be hopeful.