The Silent Erosion Of Print Journalism In Kashmir

By Madhat Bin Hashmat

Mornings in Kashmir once had a familiar start. A soft knock at the door, and the newspaper would arrive, sometimes damp from the morning mist. The ink smelled fresh, the pages crisp, and every edition carried the day's stories.

In many homes, reading the newspaper was a ritual, a spark for conversation, and a way to make sense of the world.

Now, that ritual is fading.

Print newspapers are disappearing from the doorsteps of Kashmir. It's not happening in a sudden, dramatic moment. There are no headlines screaming“The End of Print.” Instead, it's a slow eclipse, almost invisible to most.

The disappearance is gradual, silent, and it carries consequences far deeper than missing news.

This is not just a matter of technology replacing tradition. Across the world, digital platforms have changed the way we consume news. But in Kashmir, where political uncertainty, difficult terrain, and unreliable internet connectivity are part of daily life, the retreat of print carries a unique cost.

For decades, newspapers were more than just news sources here. They were a record of life's small details: the opening of a school in a remote village, the progress of a local development project, the celebrations of a regional festival, or the poetry of a young writer struggling to be heard. These were stories about us.

Print offered permanence. A story, once printed, could not be edited or deleted. Newspapers became a public archive in Kashmir, where every memory is often contested. They stood as witnesses to our collective history, a history that risks being erased in the digital age where stories disappear into the scroll.

Reading a newspaper was a slow, reflective process. Families gathered around it. Parents discussed editorials, youth read job and exam notices, and children spent time with cartoons and features. These pages fostered discussion, encouraged critical thinking, and connected generations.

Unlike the quick, fragmented consumption of social media, a newspaper invited reflection.

The challenges facing print in Kashmir are real and immediate. Rising costs of paper, printing, and distribution eat into already thin margins. Advertisers, drawn by the promise of wider digital reach, have withdrawn their support. Remote delivery is a logistical nightmare, especially when mountain roads close during winters or heavy rains block access.

Internet penetration is growing, but many villages remain poorly connected. For those places, the absence of newspapers leaves an information void.

Yet, even today, local newspapers persist. Editors and journalists continue to publish, often at personal cost. Their work is driven by dedication rather than profit. They represent an act of defiance, a refusal to let local stories disappear.

This phenomenon is not unique to Kashmir. India's biggest national dailies have scaled back print editions or pivoted entirely to digital. But Kashmir's relationship with print is different.

Surveys show readers still trust printed news far more than anything online. The digital space is crowded with unverified information, while newspapers built credibility over decades.

Beyond news, print newspapers nurtured culture. Urdu weeklies provided a platform for poets, writers, and thinkers. They preserved language, heritage, and public discourse. Losing print means risking the disappearance of this cultural space. An Urdu column in a regional paper was often the only outlet for a young poet to share their voice. The same goes for reports on local environmental issues, tribal matters, or grassroots activism, topics rarely covered by larger outlets.

MENAFN17092025000215011059ID1110072038