Since its liberation in 1971, Bangladesh has experienced nearly 29 military takeovers. The political history of the nation has never been easy. When I was small, my mother used to tell me stories about the rapes and genocide that occurred during the 1971 war as well as the political tragedy that followed in 1975 when Sheikh Mujibur Rehman, ‘Bangabandhu’, and his entire family were slain in one night. Only his two daughters, ex-PM Sheikh Hasina and Sheikh Rehana survived. I used to ask my mother, “Why didn’t people protest against Bangabandhu’s murder, who led the entire country in fighting in 1971?” What went so wrong that this heinous method of murdering the entire family was required? There was no single answer to this heart-wrenching question except narrations and blames.
The second political catastrophe she described involved the court-martial killings of a group of courageous military freedom fighters under Ziaur Rahman’s rule. These brave military freedom warriors from 1971 served as role models for countless other young activists. I posed a similar query: “Why must they be killed in such a brutal manner?” Were they the bravest people in this nation? All that could be said in response to these questions was a description of the military officials’ power struggle.
Then the next political tragedy that she could clearly remember was Rahman’s murder. I used to wonder why he died in such a way. There has never been an appropriate answer to this question except those about his murderers and their politically ambitious plans.
Where we grew up
I grew up during Hussain Muhammad Ershad’s regime — another military ruler who ran the country for eight years. I still vividly recall Bangladeshis’ excitement upon his resignation. There was great hope that a democratic government would turn the nation’s fortunes around and make it a prosperous one. Subsequently, it was discovered that not much had changed under Khaleda Zia’s rule. We still had on-and-off political strife, chaos, violence against minorities, and corruption.
As an adolescent, I used to wonder about the difference between the two governments. I did not witness political killings under the new government unlike my mother, but neither did I see stability in the nation for a considerable amount of time.
In 2008, I was about to leave Bangladesh for higher studies. Though an army-backed caretaker government was in power at the time, to be honest, no matter how uncomfortable it was, we felt safe and secure. There was more transparency, peace, and less corruption. A non-political government was largely welcomed by the common people. Peace is subjective. Keeping that in mind, I recall that the end of that military-backed caretaker government made us sad, with an apprehension of more violence.
Thankfully, Sheikh Hasina’s subsequent administration did a far better job of maintaining peace and security throughout the nation. During her tenure, we benefited from a long-term stable political structure and comparatively greater peace.
Now, Bangladesh’s economy has grown so rapidly over the past five years that we have started to fantasise about the country becoming the next Malaysia. We began to think that the nation would remain stable indefinitely. Bangladeshi men’s and women’s cricket teams, the Padma Bridge, the metro rail system, and the government’s policy of paying reverence to the liberation war of 1971 made us a very proud generation. We used to make fun of former United States Secretary of State Henry Kissinger for calling Bangladesh a “bottomless basket case”. I almost took it for granted that the future generation would not hear from us about any tragic political history or tragedies, any more than we would from our mothers about the political unrest after 1975.
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What went so wrong?
We did not view the student-led anti-quota campaign as a major political issue when it first began. We saw it as a straightforward movement that would eventually come to an end, either because the government would have to give in to their simple demands to change the quota system or because the court would have to rule in favor of the students. Even though the movement picked up speed very quickly, we thought it might be controlled—”a few more days and everything will return to normal”. We were shown to be incorrect. The movement and the subsequent violence could not be controlled.
We never imagined Hasina would flee the country, leaving millions of people in uncertainty. We thought of possibilities of reshuffling the cabinet and calling for dialogue from the leaders and activists of the movement. But it never happened. Today, the media is broadcasting how people entered Ganabhaban (Sheikh Hasina’s residence), taking away things and setting up fires. The administration expected this to happen — Hasina and other political leaders talked about it multiple times openly. If they knew about such a possibility, why didn’t they do anything? There is no answer.
When the student movement was turning into a violent anti-government movement, there were repeated requests even from pro-government activists and academics to pay attention to the unrest. Why were these pleas not heard? What went so wrong that a government that survived the pandemic-induced crisis and US’ strong political pressure before the polls could not tackle a student movement? These questions will remain unanswered just like the ones I had asked my mother long ago.
Seeing the current violence, looting, and attacks against minorities in Bangladesh, I am afraid to hope that the country will emerge again as the stable and secure nation we lived in for the last 10 years. We might even carry intergenerational trauma for not having a stable political history.
I remember the moment when Bangabandhu was warned by his friends about an attempt on his life on 15 August 1975. He did not believe his friends at the time. Now, his daughter was warned about the possibility of the Arab Spring kind of movement for regime change. She saw the signs but couldn’t stop it from happening. The possibility of her fall became moments of unpleasant truth navigated through more violence and aggression. Bangladesh will not get over its historical legacy of political instability and turmoil.
Sharin Shajahan is an academic, political observer, researcher and activist from Bangladesh. She tweets @SharinNaomi. Views are personal.
(Edited by Humra Laeeq)
It should not be a binary choice between high rates of economic growth and protecting basic democratic rights.