When Silence Kills

Within fifty seconds of the clock striking 8:49 am, on July 7, 2005 three bombs exploded at different points of the London underground network. At 9:47 am, another bomb was detonated aboard one of the capital's signature double-decker buses. Bus and tube service in central London was immediately suspended. But incredibly, buses within the heart of the capital resumed service by 4 pm that very day, and the tube was operational by the very next morning. From experience London had come to understand: if we allow ourselves to be terrified, we hand the terrorists their victory.

Compared to the Londoner, the Bangladeshi may appear to be at a disadvantage. Londoners can be brave because they are protected by the professionalism of the Metropolitan Police, the intelligence of Mi5 and the commitment of politicians who understand the imperative of eliminating terror from their streets. This is all in stark contrast to the Bangladeshi.

The Bangladeshi is faced with a home minister who is in denial over the existence of any terrorist threat, with other leaders busy pinning blame on their rivals instead of rooting out the real threat, and intelligence and police being unable to nab the masterminds.

Yet, it is precisely because of these obstacles that the Bangladeshi must speak out. Where the Londoner can be passive, and depend on the system to address the problem, the Bangladeshi must make the system first acknowledge that a problem even exists, and then work towards its resolution. If we fail in this, and allow our leaders to continue with their myopic political obfuscation, the cancer of terrorism will secure a foot-hold in our country, to disastrous consequence.

And no reasonable person can any longer deny the fact that terrorism has come to Bangladesh. Nothing less than the future of our nation depends on how we greet it. Will we be cowed by these machete-wielding spectres, rewarding their assaults against Bangladesh, her people, and her founding principles with the silence they demand? Or do we hold our own and skewer their bigotry with the very pens they so rightly fear?

Sadly, by and large, the response of Bangladesh's intelligentsia seems to have been the former (though there are a handful of exceptions, including this paper). This self-inflicted gag on our collective response to the sprouting of terrorism in our homeland is ill-advised.

When people murder to silence opposition, staying quiet may appear to be the sensible thing to do. But by muzzling ourselves with fear, we fulfil the terrorist's objectives. And we create an incentive for them to kill again, because we will have taught them that we are cowards who will be silenced by their machetes.

At this critical time, no Bangladeshi can be both silent and blameless. Every citizen who chooses selfish silence in the wake of these heinous crimes, not only withholds their service from their nation in its hour of need, but also increases the bounty on the heads of those who do dare to speak out for our continued, collective freedom. In this sorry state of affairs, even silence kills.

The writer is a PhD student at the University of Sussex, UK.