Activists of Awami League today allegedly set fire to a house and a poultry farm and vandalised at least two houses of BNP supporters at Shibganj upazila of Chapainawabganj district.
AL men went to Boro Chak area around 11:30am and vandalised two to three houses and also set fire to the house of Jewel and poultry farm of Aminul Islam, our Chapainawabganj correspondent reports quoting officer-in-charge of Shibganj Police Station.
Locals brought the flame under control before fire-fighting units could reach the spot, the correspondent said.
However, Sarwar Jahan Sentu, BNP office secretary of Shibganj upazila unit, claimed that a group of AL vandalised four houses of local BNP supporters.
No one was injured in the incident.
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Vladimir Lenin, after all, was right. Sometimes, there are decades where nothing happens; and there are weeks where decades happen. Glory to the martyrs and vanguards of Bangladesh who made it to a possible democracy once more!
In Bangladesh, August is apparently a month when decades happen. Karl Marx famously said, "History repeats itself, first as tragedy, second as farce." If the fall of the BAKSAL (Bangladesh Krishak Sramik Awami League) regime in August 1975 was a tragedy, the boisterous exit of the regime this August is a repetition, this time as a farce. The free fall of the regime is a relief for many; however, there are also darker clouds around in the horizon.
The odds are no less apparent. One of these concerns India, the nation-state's largest neighbour. The facts around the number one superpower, the US, are another concern. But I can't deal with the second topic in this space. Let me rather stay with only India today.
To some, the events of July-August, for all their valour and glory may tell the same old story. But it is not exactly a void in which they disgorge.
The coup d'état of 1975 was organised clandestinely. It was a civilian-military combined effort. There is good evidence that it was sustained by a Western power. The current conjuncture seems to involve a broad coalition of radical forces led by university students, sustained by the support of a cross-section of civil society, political parties and the so-called international community. The fallout now is more uncertain than ever, at least compared to what it was a half century earlier.
The Awami League regime in 1975 under Sheikh Mujibur Rahman had gone berserk with its one nation one leader "mantra". In 2024, the daughter's regime only went wilder with its sheer ruthlessness. History repeated itself.
It is perhaps too early to say what awaits us even in the not-too-distant future. A doubt pops up, nevertheless. What is the nature of the August 5 revolution? Is it a popular revolution like the French Revolution flying the banner of equality, human dignity, and social justice? Or is it to prove a coup d'etat of sorts, an 18th Brumaire of civil society, midwifed by the "international community", tailored by the armed forces? How different is it going to be from the events of January 11, 2007, events welcomed by the country's biggest neighbour, India? We hardly learn from history. That seems to be the only takeaway from history's department stores.
One does not choose from an empty set. Not a neighbour, at any rate. Nations act, as everyone knows, not as philanthropists or cynics but in their own best interest. Did Bangladesh's inevitable neighbour follow even a rule of its own best interest in underscoring the dynastic autocracy in Bangladesh? Was that the best option it had had? Will it learn a lesson, in all candour, this turnaround? These are questions best left to political pundits in India and beyond.
For us, citizens and denizens of Bangladesh, it is more of a single-payer option. India's unabashed selfishness in promoting a regime that clearly violated all rules of liberal democracy proves highly short-sighted, more now than ever.
What alternatives did India have to choose from is not apparent, or not well-known in any case. But it may even be non-transparent. In 1975, India blatantly ignored its lower riparian neighbour in claiming the Ganga-Padma as a virtually all-India domestic watercourse. That it is an international river, it apparently forgot then. India's stance on other watercourses changed little since then. The waters of the Teesta and many other common international rivers don't flow quietly anymore.
Border killings on a rhythmic scale are not simply a mystic symbol of India's political muscle but of its myopic nature. It is a bizarre thing: "India's Bangladesh Problem," as one pundit called it. Termites, they call their unhandsome neighbours.
India's China obsession, at least ever since her war with China in 1962, could have misled it to its Bangladesh policy. But a people who didn't put up with Pakistan's proto-colonial repressive regime of two and a half decades can hardly be expected (let alone taken for granted) to welcome such a proverbial "subsidiary alliance" as India desires to perpetrate on Bangladesh.
The latest regime change in the wake of a popular mass uprising should provide an occasion to rethink future relations between the two sovereign neighbours in South Asia, adorned by the common historical legacy of many centuries.
The immiseration of one neighbour for the benefit of the other can only be sustained by such regimes as the just fallen one in Bangladesh. India is a habitat, nay a breeding ground, of proverbial wise men. I am sure they will not be deluded by dreams of "Akhand Hindustan". That simply will not work.
The regime change of August 2024 may also provide an occasion to reflect on the question of national identity, a question the think tanks of national security (or regional imperialism if you like) can only ignore at their own peril.
Let history not repeat a second tragedy. The regime change in Dhaka, apparently, will enjoy the blessings of the "international community". But it is unlikely to work well if India does not think today what forces of circumstances will force it to think tomorrow.
India's best interest may perhaps lie in strengthening a new democracy in Bangladesh. At any rate, not obstructing democratic aspirations of a new generation in its eastward neighbourhood is the key point.
Dr Salimullah Khan is professor of general education at the University of Liberal Arts.
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There is currently a huge Awami League-shaped hole in Bangladesh's electoral politics, so BNP trying to dive headlong into it comes as no surprise. Since Sheikh Hasina's fall on August 5, BNP has had to navigate a delicate tightrope—balancing its ambition to return to power with the pressure to support popular demands for state reforms. The party doesn't want to risk the ire of the very students that ousted its arch-rival, potentially putting it in pole position to win the next election. But reforms take time, something it doesn't have plenty of after nearly two decades of wait. And the grassroots are getting impatient.
"Impatient" is perhaps an understatement for what has unfolded over the past month and a half. A more fitting description would be a chaotic transformation of a party getting used to having things its way. As BNP-affiliated leaders, activists, and professional groups scramble to fill the void left by Awami League, we are getting an early preview of the making of another regime—and it's nothing short of disturbing.
For example, since August 5, at least 14 BNP members have lost their lives, eight of them in factional clashes. The most recent murder occurred on Friday in Chattogram's Changaon area, where a Jatiyatabadi Jubo Dal activist was fatally stabbed during a clash between rival factions. On the same day, heavy clashes between two BNP-linked groups in Chandpur left at least 30 people injured. On Sunday, a similar clash in Narayanganj left at least 12 injured, followed by another in Kushtia two days later, injuring 10 more. These violent power struggles, often revolving around the control of extortion rackets, have become disturbingly common. In that, the BNP grassroots seem to be re-enacting scenes from Awami League's time in power which, too, was plagued by factional infighting, with over 150 of its leaders and activists killed in mostly turf wars since the 2018 election.
Over the past weeks, reports have also emerged of BNP leaders and activists taking over slums, footpaths, transport hubs, extortion rackets across various markets and informal businesses, and even former Awami League offices. Meanwhile, in the civil service, there have been allegations against BNP-affiliated groups trying to influence promotions, placements, public contracts, etc.
Officially, the party is against such practices. Tarique Rahman, the acting chairman, recently warned that BNP will not tolerate any reckless actions by "misguided" individuals that could harm "the trust and love" it has earned through "years of struggle, sacrifice, and perseverance." He urged party members to "identify and resist" those tarnishing BNP's image, emphasising its commitment to not only expelling such individuals but also taking "legal action" against them.
These warnings coupled with occasional disciplinary measures, however, have proven insufficient to deter errant party supporters, which suggests two things: either those were not strict or convincing enough, or the party is not trying hard enough. Both scenarios are likely in an environment of patronage politics that has long been the mainstay of our political culture. This system of patronage begins at grassroots with the capture of extortion rackets or other undue benefits by political thugs, and culminates with systemic regulatory capture by vested interest groups, all of which serves as an incentive for them to keep working for a party. Barring exceptions, the prospect or promise of mutual gain largely governs the relationship between major parties and their supporters.
BNP, for all its pro-reform posturing in the aid of the interim government, has yet to demonstrate a real willingness to dismantle this corrupt system. While, to be fair, it has shown some signs of remaking itself as a party with a more open political ethos, the revolutionary times that we are living through demand much more.
Ironically, Awami League's ouster through a bloody uprising has stripped BNP of two key advantages that it could have used in an election campaign: anti-incumbency bias, and public sympathy for the repression it had endured. In an alternate reality where those factors still mattered, BNP could have expected Gen Z—with no lived memory of its 2001-06 rule—to support it unquestioningly, and older generations to accept it as the lesser of two evils. The problem is, the new generation has shown a political maturity beyond their years, and to win them over, BNP now must offer something genuinely new.
Ironically, Awami League's ouster through a bloody uprising has stripped BNP of two key advantages that it could have used in an election campaign: anti-incumbency bias, and public sympathy for the repression it had endured. In an alternate reality where those factors still mattered, BNP could have expected Gen Z—with no lived memory of its 2001-06 rule—to support it unquestioningly, and older generations to accept it as the lesser of two evils. The problem is, the new generation has shown a political maturity beyond their years, and to win them over, BNP now must offer something genuinely new.
So far, it has been giving mixed signals. On the one hand, it acknowledged that repeating Awami League's mistakes could lead to the same fate for itself, stressing the importance of understanding the shift in people's mind-sets. On the other hand, it continues to call for elections as soon as possible. Its rhetoric surrounding the student-led mass movement, trying to co-opt it as its own, and its suggestion that long-term reforms should be left to an elected government also reveal glaring contradictions. Perhaps the army chief's recent statement—in which he vowed to back the interim government "come what may" to possibly ensure elections within the next 18 months—will prompt BNP to reassess its approach. While expecting an election roadmap is not unreasonable, it must lift its sights beyond its ambition and bring the reform drive to its own doorsteps.
At 46, BNP is in need of renewal, and the sooner it realises this, the better. As the largest party in the country now, it has a responsibility not just to its leaders and activists but to the entire political landscape. To truly demonstrate that it remains in tune with the spirit of the mass uprising, BNP needs to lead by example and undertake the following initiatives.
First, it must help dismantle the patronage system by making it clear to party leaders and supporters that BNP politics will henceforth offer no undeserved benefits, and anyone using its name for such purposes will be met with swift punishment. Second, it should ask its loyalist groups within the civil service to stop influencing decisions, or risk being blacklisted. Third, it should establish a democratic, secular, and gender-inclusive party structure, and have a high-powered committee constantly check erosion of these values in party activities. Fourth, it should bring clarity on its finances by making the names of its donors public and conducting internal audits of assets held by party leaders. Fifth, it should control its grassroots leaders and activists, preventing infighting and any criminality through strict enforcement of disciplinary measures.
Sixth, it should comply with the Representation of the People Order (RPO) clause that prohibits political parties from having affiliated student or teacher organisations. Over the years, political parties, including BNP, have bypassed this law on mere technicalities, passing their student wings off as "brotherly" or "associate" organisations, thus enabling crimes and hegemonic practices that led not only to a deep distrust of student politics but also unimaginable sufferings.
There can be many other reforms that are necessary. What BNP can do to remake itself in line with the spirit of the mass uprising can be the topic of a discussion that the party should itself encourage for its own benefit.
Just before the January 7, 2024 election, I wrote an article titled "Can BNP survive the pre-election meltdown?" amid heavy crackdowns by Awami League. I guess the question now is, can BNP fulfil the post-uprising expectations? After all, if political parties do not break free from their long-entrenched monopolistic and authoritarian attitudes, changing the constitution and implementing other state reforms cannot prevent future regimes from turning dictatorial again. BNP has a historic responsibility in this regard.
Badiuzzaman Bay is an assistant editor at The Daily Star.
Views expressed in this article are the author's own.
The disclosures of the Transparency International Bangladesh (TIB) vis-à-vis the assets of candidates contesting in the 12th parliamentary election cannot be called exactly sensational. Over the past couple of weeks, we have seen similar, if selected, dissections of the affidavits submitted by candidates to the Election Commission. But the TIB provides a broad, comparative overview of their assets, bringing into critical focus the state of politics—and politicians—in today's Bangladesh.
For example, according to the TIB, the 2024 election is set to witness the highest number of candidates with movable or liquid assets of at least Tk 1 crore in recent history. From 274 in 2008 election and 522 in 2018 election, the number of such candidates has surged to 571 this time around. Unsurprisingly, the ruling Awami League has seen the highest surge: in 2008, 28 percent of its candidates had such wealth, which has now ballooned to 86.96 percent—constituting 235 of its 286 nominees. Moreover, the TIB report identified 18 candidates possessing assets worth over Tk 100 crore, and some possessing over Tk 200-300 crore. Some ministers and lawmakers have also seen astronomical increases in their wealth with percentages ranging from several hundred to thousands!
Unfortunately, the picture that has emerged of the financial health of candidates may only be the tip of the iceberg, as the TIB has only reviewed their movable or liquid assets, not real estates. Add to that the gross undervaluation of assets by some, presumably to evade taxes, and the tendency of not disclosing all assets, as in the case of a minister who allegedly concealed information about UK-based businesses valued at Tk 2,312 crore. All this is deeply troubling.
While having wealth itself cannot be reason enough to disqualify a candidate, the massive surge in their wealth as well as number raises critical concerns about the widening economic disparity in society, fair electoral representation, and corruption in politics. Affidavits submitted by the candidates should thus be thoroughly examined to check potential irregularities. Unfortunately, the relevant authorities, including the Election Commission, Anti-Corruption Commission, and National Board of Revenue, have yet to signal their readiness to do so. This must change. While one cannot expect much from an election that the opposition camp has already boycotted, these candidates, many among them potential lawmakers, have a big task at hands, and their honesty and integrity to serve the public must be judged for the sake of our future.
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The necessity that was felt a few days after the Declaration of Independence of Bangladesh was that of a Government which could take upon itself the burden of directing the liberation struggle. Because of the sudden attack and the resultant disorganisation, the Awami League leaders could not get together and work out the formation of such a government. Obviously, as the Awami League had received the mandate from the people, it was the party that could form the government. The necessity of the formation of the government was felt by everybody. The readers are aware that in its first broadcast over Swadhin Bangla Beter Kendra, Major Zia announced himself to be the President of the Revolutionary Government. Later on, he modified his announcement and declared that he was leading the armed struggle in the name and on behalf of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. Mr. Zia's announcement only asserted the necessity of the formation of a government, but he and his colleagues did not obviously constitute the government.
I always had this belief that such a liberation struggle could not proceed in an organised manner if a top body like a government at the top did not guide the movement in a proper way. This is why I became extremely happy to know that a civilian government had been formed for Bangladesh.
We were sitting at Kishoreganj, like many others eagerly awaiting the formation of a government by the Awami League. Awami League leaders at Kishoreganj were quite vocal about it, and some of them even grew impatient over the issue. All of us were anxious since the movement could not be guided if political forces did not take the lead for proper organisation and confrontation. The directives could only come from the elected representatives. Moreover, the formation of a national government could enhance the prestige of the struggle and raise altogether different hopes in the minds of the people. The foreign powers could then be persuaded better. We felt all these and eagerly waited for the formation of the government.
When Major Safiullah reached Mymensingh and Kishoreganj, he also agreed with us that a government should immediately be formed. There was, at that time, a frantic search for some elderly politicians of the Awami League. Since nobody was sure about the fate of Sheikh, it became obvious that the only man who would be more suitable for the formation of a government was Syed Nazrul Islam, Vice President of the Awami League and the man next in command to the Sheikh. Syed Nazrul Islam happened to be from Kishoreganj P.S. itself and this is why Major Safiullah and all others put pressure on me to locate him so that he could take the initiative for forming a government. I must praise him for the foresight of Major Safiullah and others who rightly foresaw that the job of the armed personnel was simply to fight according to given directions. The directions could only come from a civilian government consisting of the elected representatives of the people.
Cover of the author’s book ‘The Turbulent 1971: My Diary’. It was published by Agamee Prakashani in 2020.
Throughout the beginning of the liberation struggle, one of my aims has thus been the location of Syed Nazrul Islam. The scanty news we used to get from Dhaka implied that Syed Nazrul Islam had fled from Dhaka. But nobody could give details about where he could be. On many occasions, Major Safiullah and Major Nazrul Islam used to inquire about it from Brahmanbaria over wireless. When a few days had passed they became very anxious and repeatedly requested me to locate Mr. Nazrul Islam.
Since Mr. Nazrul Islam's hometown was Kishoreganj, I was confident that he would have to come this way, even in hiding. This is what actually happened. It was possibly on the 6th or 7th of April that Mr. Mustafizur Rahman Khan had secretly approached me and told that Mr. Nazrul Islam was in hiding at the village home of his wife. Mr. Khan came to me with the request for transport and sufficient [sic] to cover Nazrul Islam's journey from Kishoreganj to Durgapur. Mr. Khan told me that Mr. Nazrul Islam was aware that all of us were in the freedom movement, he hesitated to come out in public because that could have many implications. From that day on, I knew the whereabouts and movements of Syed Nazrul Islam but I kept my promises in keeping this as top secret. The only information I gave was to Major Safiullah telling him that I had knowledge Mr. Nazrul Islam had proceeded towards the free zone. I told Major Safiullah that things were gradually broadening up and the formation of a national government was eminent.
Khashruzzaman Choudhury, 1967.
How Mr. Syed Nazrul Islam fled from Dhaka was an interesting story. While proceeding from Kishoreganj towards Durgapur, he was located 10 miles outside the town by my S.I., another Mr. Nazrul Islam. The S.I. was coming back after a survey of the area in the evening. From a distance, he could see that another jeep was coming from the opposite direction. As soon as Mr. Nazrul Islam's jeep saw the other jeep, its travel stopped and Mr. Nazrul Islam tried to hide to avoid identification. S. I. Nazrul disclosed the story to me on his return to Kishoreganj. He told me that soon he could understand that it was possibly Mr. Nazrul Islam who was in the other jeep. So, he cried out, giving his identity and requested them to come out from hiding. After repeated assurance, all of the passengers of the other jeep came out and Syed Nazrul Islam soon left towards Netrokona and Durgapur. He sent a message through S. I. Nazrul to me, thanking me for the cooperation I had extended to him. When I heard the story from Nazrul, I requested him to keep it as a secret and not to disclose it to anyone.
When Mr. Nazrul Islam could reach the free zone, the government was formed. It was possibly on the 10th of April that the All India Radio gave the news of the formation of a civilian government, announcing the names of the Ministers. I was sitting at the local police station when the Awami League Leaders rushed to that place with sweets even in those circumstances of trials and tribulations. All of us were really happy that after all, a government had been formed. I always had this belief that such a liberation struggle could not proceed in an organised manner if a top body like a government at the top did not guide the movement in a proper way. This is why I became extremely happy to know that a civilian government had been formed for Bangladesh.
The identity card of Khashruzzaman Choudhury, Deputy Secretary at the Home Ministry of the Mujibnagar Government, 1971.
The announcement of a government on the 10th of April was after consultation among different leaders of the Awami League. Later on, I came to know the whole story about the background of the government. Mr. Mustafizur Rahman Siddiqui and Zahur Ahmad Choudhury both from Chittagong Awami League escaped to Agartala. At Agartala, they used to sit in meetings discussing the formation of the government. It was after the arrival of Mr. Tajuddin that the talks were finalized and a tentative government was fixed up. Mr. Nazrul Islam's arrival was later, and even though he was absent, he was tipped as Vice President and Acting President in the absence of Sheikh Mujib.
Incidentally, it would be of interest to know that the parleys in this connection used to be held in the residence of one Mr. K. P. Datta, a Deputy Director of Education in the Tripura Government. I later met Mr. K. P. Datta at Agartala. Mr. K. P. Datta was originally from Sylhet District of Bangladesh. During my stay at Agartala, I had come in close contact with him. Mr. Datta used to narrate how all these began and how the ultimate decision of the formation of the government was taken up. Since I myself was from Sylhet, Mr. Datta and I could communicate in our native dialogue, and possibly because of this, we were very close to each other. Mr. Datta is an intelligent man whose wife is also in the education line. I had seldom come across such a nice man during that period. Mr. Datta used to tell me the story about the government. He told me that in his house there used to be sessions which used to last longer than midnight. It was after a lot of discussions, the final decision for the formation of the government was taken up.
Though the announcement of the government was on the 10th of April, it was on the 17th of April that the actual government was placed to the journalists, both foreign and Indian. Few people know that the 16th of April was fixed for the ceremony of swearing in of the government at Chuadanga. This could not be done because of heavy bombing from Pakistani planes and attacks on the towns by the Pakistan army. It is in this context that Baidyanathtala was selected for the ceremony on the 17th of April. I came to know about all of this from my friend Tawfiq-e-Elahi Chaudhury who was then SDO of Kushtia District, within the jurisdiction of which this Baidyanathtala was situated. The place was only a few miles from the Indian border. The journalists were taken there without any notice. The ceremony was simple but impressive. The Ministers were sworn in on the 17th of April, and the actual government started from that day.
Acting President Syed Nazrul Islam addressing attendees at the oath-taking ceremony of the Mujibnagar Government on April 17, 1971.
Captain Murari Ram of BSF told me a story about Syed Nazrul Islam. He told me that his friend Baljit Singh, another adjutant of BSF, one day received information that Syed Nazrul Islam was coming. None of them had seen Syed Nazrul Islam, but they had heard lots about him. They knew that he was an elderly man. Ultimately, the man who landed at Haluaghat was a young man who introduced himself as Nazrul Islam. Baljit Singh was the first, not in confusion, had told everybody Syed Nazrul Islam had come. When other officers of BSF went to meet him, after some time, they would find out that this was not Syed Nazrul Islam, but Professor Nazrul Islam Choudhury, an elected representative from Mymensingh District. The confusion was soon cleared. Captain Murari joked with me that when Syed Nazrul Islam actually arrived this time, Baljit Singh took precaution and started asking him a number of questions. This time the gentleman was none other than Syed Nazrul Islam himself, and possibly he became very confused at such a reaction from the BSF. When Baljit Singh became satisfied after a long time, he sent the message up to his senior officers that Syed Nazrul Islam had come. Captain Murari Ram jokingly told me that Baljit Singh had not first believed, even this time. There were queries from above about how this gentleman looked like and poor Baljit Singh had to talk to so many people, attempting to convince them that this time he had made no mistake and that the gentleman was really Syed Nazrul Islam. When all went to meet Syed Nazrul Islam, they found that he was really Syed Nazrul Islam, and quick arrangements were made for his movement from the border areas to another place where he could meet his other colleagues.
The S.P. Garo Hills, whom we met after coming over to Tura, was from Bihar. We had an interesting story to tell about Maulana Bhasani. As everybody knows, Maulana Bhasani had been hospitalized for bad health. On the 25th of March, Maulana Bhasani was at Mymensingh Medical College itself. Maulana was a clever man and he had his own source of information. This was evident when on the 26th the hospital staff and the doctors found that Maulana had disappeared from the hospital. When Maulana Bhasani entered India through Haluaghat, he was received at the border by the D.C. of Garo Hills, a Khasi gentleman named Mr. Cajee and S. P. Mr. Jha. The Maulana was driven away to Tura. Mr. Jha told me that when Maulana Bhasani sat with them at Tura, he started speaking a lot about massacres. He was all the time speaking against the Biharis who had committed a lot of crimes in Bangladesh. As Mr. Jha himself was from Bihar, he could not possibly join in the discussion in the same manner. When Bhasani saw that Mr. Jha did not sound as enthusiastic, he wondered what might have happened to Mr. Cajee. D.C. had been smiling all through. The Maulana was at his wit's end when Mr. Cajee told him that Bhasani was describing things to a person who was himself a Bihari. Mr. Jha told me later that as long as Maulana Bhasani stayed at Tura, he used to refer to this incident and cut jokes with Mr. Jha telling him that he was a Bihari and thus at the side of the Pakistani.
This article is an excerpt from the author's book "The Turbulent 1971: My Diary" (2020).
Dr. Khashruzzaman Choudhury joined the Liberation War while serving as a Sub-Divisional Officer (SDO). He involved himself with the Mujibnagar Government as Deputy Secretary, Ministry of Home Affairs. Later, he served as a Professor of Economics in the USA. Khashruzzaman Choudhury was honored with the highest civilian award, the 'Swadhinata Padak,' in 2014 for his contribution to the Liberation War.
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Be·tray·al
: violation of a person's trust or confidence, of a moral standard, a contract, etc.
Bangladesh has experienced a dramatic series of events in recent weeks. An interim government has been formed, and we await fair and transparent elections. But we would do well to remember the cycles of betrayal and trauma that have shaped the politics of the country and to resolve that they are not repeated again.
Underlying the mass agitation that eventually led to the downfall of the previous government is a deep sense of collective betrayal. The Awami League government betrayed the most fundamental of public trusts: the expectation that the state will not wilfully kill one's children. "My son was murdered," said Shopna, the mother of slain 18-year-old protester Rahat Hossain. "And not by civilians, but by law enforcement officers under government orders. My son was killed by a bullet bought with my tax money."
What began in early July as peaceful protests by Bangladeshi university students against the quota system in government job recruitment faced a full-scale government crackdown as the police, the military, and border guard paramilitaries were deployed to quell the unrest. An Awami League government that shamelessly clung to power for 15 years through rigged elections and persecution of the opposition unleashed its punitive might on student protesters and citizens. A curfew was declared, and internet and mobile phone networks were shut down.
Betrayal has many faces, shapes and forms. At its core, though, is the experience of violation and trauma. The psychological effects of betrayal include anger, loss and grief, self-doubt, and preoccupation or an inability to let go of the precipitating events. Human beings do not compartmentalise these feelings. Emotions seep into political cultures where they have the potential to alter the course of a society.
In the wake of the police brutality, student organisers of the quota reform movement asked then Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina to apologise for what happened. It is easier to heal after betrayal when the responsible party takes ownership for what has happened. Regrettably, the Awami League government devoted its energies to denying responsibility, to pointing fingers at everyone but themselves.
The politics of betrayal in Bangladesh is painfully familiar to me. I am the daughter of the late Shah AMS Kibria. After joining the Awami League in 1992, my father was the finance minister of the government led by Sheikh Hasina from 1996 to 2001. Following that, he was a member of the opposition in parliament and a vocal critic of the rise of militancy, persecution of religious minorities, and state-sponsored political violence in the country.
On January 27, 2005, Shah AMS Kibria was assassinated by a grenade attack during a public meeting at his constituency in Sylhet.
Following her husband's killing, the late Asma Kibria fought hard for a full and transparent investigation conducted independently of the BNP-Jamaat government of the time. I am reminded of her indomitable spirit when I hear Shamsi Ara Zaman, the mother of 27-year-old Tahir Zaman, a freelance photographer who was killed on July 17 when he went to film the protests, "I want justice. As a mother I will do whatever is necessary to get justice for my son."
When the Awami League was elected in 2009, we, the family, rejoiced. After four long years, we would get justice for my father's murder. Who more so than a government led by the political party that he had loyally served could be motivated to address the questions that had been haunting us since that fateful day in 2005? Who ordered the grenade attack on him? What was the source of the grenades?
For 15 years, the Awami League led by Sheikh Hasina has held the reins of government in Bangladesh. For 15 years, we have not seen a complete investigation and trial into our father/grandfather's murder. For 15 years, the crucial questions of motive, intent and plan remain unanswered.
It is of great sorrow to me that my mother never saw the justice that she sought. She died with the trauma of betrayal. "Where can we get justice," she said, "if even those he trusted the most do not have the will to find and punish his murderers?" Her trauma is now mine, to be passed down through the generations of our family.
Growing up, my parents instilled in me a deep appreciation for the ideals of the 1971 Liberation War and the sacrifices of those who gave their lives for the independence of Bangladesh. Over the past decade and a half, I have watched with dismay as the Awami League—the political party so closely tied with these iconic events—chose to politicise and weaponise this glorious history, using it to divide rather than unite the nation.
When I watched the terrifying footage of Abu Sayed, a student shot and killed during the quota reform protests, I felt the sting of many betrayals, one top of another and another. How could the government authorise the use of deadly force against unarmed student protesters? How could a government led by the Awami League, a party founded on principles of self-determination and democracy, turn on its own people? There is a sense in which I am grateful that my father is not around to see the moral degeneration of the party he served with dedication.
Bangladesh is now at a political crossroads. The country, I believe, can only heal from the trauma of betrayal if there is a concerted building of trust in public institutions and those who serve in them—whether it is a policeperson directing traffic or a clerk at the passport control office or a Supreme Court judge. The politicisation of our institutions must stop. After all, in the end, it is very easy to be betrayed by a political party or a political leader. But if we know that our public institutions are there to serve all of us, regardless of who is in power, it may not matter so much.
After all, as Shah AMS Kibria used to say, "We Bangalees can never be put down for long. We sacrificed our lives for freedom once and we will do so again if necessary."
Nazli Kibria is professor and interim chair of sociology at Boston University.
Views expressed in this article are the author's own.