According to Dhaka University's Annual Report for 1971-72, at the beginning of Operation Searchlight, 10 Dhaka University professors were killed. However, this number did not end there. In the nine-month-long war, 991 educationists were killed, along with 13 journalists, 49 physicians, 42 lawyers and 16 litterateurs, artists and engineers. It was murder.

After the liberation of Bangladesh, a list of Bengali intellectuals was found in a page of Major General Rao Farman Ali's diary, left behind at Governor House. Major Ali was the military adviser to the Governor of East Pakistan. Most people on this list were executed on December 14. The report of the War Crimes Fact Finding Committee, formed on December 29, 1971, found that Rao Forman Ali's masterplan was to kill 20,000 intellectuals, but they could not carry this out.

We know why this list was made and why these killings took place, as we parrot the same sentence each year – "to deprive our nation of its intellect." But what does this loss actually mean? We lost the best political thinkers and philosophers of this land. We lost the best educators and creative personae. We perhaps do not delve deeper into our minds to realise what the legacies of this loss are. For me, the loss is irretrievable.

The first set of intellectuals left East Bengal after 1947. They led the political and cultural movements against the British Raj, but had to leave the country for the communal divide of India. The exodus took place visibly and non-visibly. We often talk about brain drain to the west, but hardly utter a word about the migration of the intellectuals to West Bengal for communal reasons. It took time to get over the setback of deshbhag (Partition) in Bengal. The Hindu people who left the country after 1947 could not be rooted in West Bengal, and we could not replace the intellectual gap ever. The first loss was accepted to get Pakistan. The second loss we forfeited to get Bangladesh.

Why did the Pakistan army attack Dhaka University on the first night? The political history of 1947-1971 and the presence of Dhaka University in it might answer the question.

It was Dhaka University students who protested against Muhammad Ali Jinnah's declaration of making Urdu the state language. They lead the secular movement that shook the Pakistani military government. As the symbol of that protest, and the victory of that rage of the youth, the Shaheed Minar was founded on university premises. Students and young faculty members of Dhaka University worked wholeheartedly in theorising the Language Movement and transforming its result to further courses of emancipation against pan-Islamic Pakistan. This became a new set of post-1947 intellectuals. All the decisive movements, political and cultural, were led by these neo-middle-class intellectuals.

The intellectuals who were killed in 1971 gave hope to the nation, so there was no doubt that the Pakistan Army would first attack the intellectual fort. They attacked Jagannath Hall on the night of March 25 because of communal politics, but also because West Pakistan often viewed the fighting people of Bangladesh as Hindu spies of India. So, the semiotics of Dhaka University, Shaheed Minar and the fighting young force of East Bengal was not in harmony with West Pakistani politics.

Not only educationists, the lion's share of artists, lawyers, writers and professionals were somehow related with the politics centred in Dhaka University as well. When they were killed, a big vacuum was felt in every sector. The likes of Zahir Raihan, Shahidullah Kaiser, Altaf Mahmud, Jyortirmoy Guhathakurata and Govinda Chandra Dev are born in a nation's history only once. When a nation suddenly loses their intellectual force, only then they can know what the legacy of that loss is.   

After independence, the country faced its first biggest jolt in 1975 – with the heinous killing of the leader of the country Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and the four national leaders. This political gap could never be filled. The concept of Bangladesh against pro-military, pan-Islamic Pakistan was shattered, and replaced by military governments. The intellectuals who survived 1971 led the country intellectually till the 1980s, or at best the 1990s. Therefore, the nation could keep protesting several military regimes and autocratic governments, and keep our cultural identity in shape to some extent. People could keep their hope that something good will come their way, and so the struggle should be continued, even if it takes several generations. It was popularly recited in cultural programmes – Lage na laguk bahe dui, tin, char kingba koyek jeebon.

The real problem started from the new millennium. The new generation suffered repeated marshal law and memorised a false history of the country. The advent of the so-called neoliberal economy made us fixated on individual gain, and intellectuals sold their expertise to NGOs or the government for personal benefit.

During this period, we saw another branch thrive – religious fundamentalism, and the intellectual fight against both religious and market fundamentalism became almost absent in society. DUCSU and other university student unions are obsolete. There is teachers' politics, but there is no competition among rival groups since both parties know they cannot win when their opposition is in power. It is a hapless situation. TSCs in different universities are being used only for department's annual programmes. Cinema halls are almost abandoned. There is not much room for disagreement in the public sphere.

A one-dimensional generation is in the making. There is hardly any public figure these days whom the young generation can follow. Moreover, there is a politics of fear. In the last 10 years, we saw young intellectuals and bloggers lose their lives to religious zeal. On the other hand, a spell of fear has been constructed using the Digital Security Act 2018.

Now, the voices are muted in the public sphere. On one hand, the power of the media is on the rise exponentially; on the other, the space for freedom of expression is ever shrinking. It is even hard to talk about that shrunken space and the politics of fear in seminars and academic discussions. We observe Martyred Intellectuals Day and remain muted. We are going through an era of no questions. I wonder if the 1960s were muted, would we have ever found the intellectuals for whom we mourn?

In a country, if there is little free space to talk, new brave generations cannot come forth. These are the legacies of loss we are encountering, generation after generation, since 1971.

Dr Kaberi Gayen is professor at the Department of Mass Communication and Journalism at Dhaka University.