I cannot see you today

With these photographs I want to represent a void. The silent space where people can't express their dissent and exercise their rights, where you can't tell your story.

Over the last ten years, I have visited Kashmir many times, documenting it with photo projects, articles and essays, and my interest in the local culture soon became intertwined with that of recent history. I met and developed relationships with professors, journalists, activists, artisans and religious figures, each of whom offered me a different perspective on the relationship between Kashmir, India and Pakistan, and the impact of events in the second half of the 20th century on the socio-political structure of the region. Since 1949, northwest Kashmir has been divided between India and Pakistan. The referendum to decide whether Kashmir should become part of India or Pakistan has never taken place. Most of the region is under Indian administration and in the last seventy years Pakistan and India have fought three wars - in 1965, 1971 and 1999. The accounts of the people I met focused on the period of bloody internal conflict that began with the massacre of pro-independence demonstrators on the Gawkadal Bridge in January 1990. They told of friends who decided to cross the border into Pakistan to reach training camps and learn how to fight. Of massacres by Kashmiri militias against pro-India Muslims and Kashmiris of Hindu and Pandit faith. The abuse of women and girls by the paramilitaries. The people tortured by the army. The thousands of men arrested and then disappeared. From the terrorist attack on the Indian Parliament in 2001, to the demonstrations in 2010 in which more than a hundred protesters were killed, and the equally violent protests in 2016 that I witnessed.

In August 2019, the Indian government revoked the special autonomy status granted to the Jammu and Kashmir region under Article 370 of the Constitution. Thousands of military personnel were deployed to prevent possible uprisings and several prominent Kashmiri politicians, including the former Chief Minister, were taken into custody.
In addition to the repeal of several historic laws - such as the one prohibiting the sale of land to non-Kashmiris - hundreds of people were arrested.  Communication lines, including fixed and mobile internet networks, have been disrupted for many months.

My last visit to the valley was in 2017. In December 2023, I decided to go back.
I simply wanted to meet my interlocutors, some of whom had become friends, and find out about their personal, professional and family situations.
I made a few appointments from Europe via WhatsApp. At first, the people I contacted were delighted to see me again. Later, as the date of my departure approached, some began to cancel their meetings. Others disappeared. During a video call with S., a journalist, I realised that even a simple friendly meeting could be risky.
“Here, people are arrested for liking an autonomist post on Facebook. You can't trust anyone anymore. You'd better leave it alone,” he told me.
Not only has the control of information become capillary, but the government is trying to silence any voice of popular dissent. Any political expression that goes against the central government's agenda is opposed. 
While I was in Srinagar, I did not meet anyone.
I walked around the city. I visited the landmarks of the Kashmiri resistance: buildings, streets and squares whose political, cultural and spiritual significance I had been told about. I revisited places of past meetings where a friend had shared his family history with me. I stopped to observe from outside the houses of people I could no longer meet, their boats moored on Lake Dal.

Click on the images below to see them in full screen.