Securing the safety of ordinary students
We are delighted by the High Court decision to suspend all five members of the Bangladesh Chhatra League (BCL) unit at the Islamic University (IU) who were involved in the torture of Phulpori, a first-year student. The court also asked to remove the hall provost concerned and ensure a seat for the victim. (The BCL also expelled the same group from the organisation. We will know if it is for real if it triggers a wider expulsion process of all members with similar reputation.)
While passing the order, the bench of Justice JBM Hassan and Justice Razik-Al-Jalil expressed grave concern and observed, "We have noticed from the media that some unruly students are participating in untoward incidents by using their political identities, which is tarnishing the glorious history of student politics."
For all latest news, follow The Daily Star's Google News channel. The point about "using political identities" is important. The ruling party members, especially the activists of BCL, think their political affiliation gives them immunity from law, from rules, from norms – from everything that limits their unbridled power. (The way our law enforcement agencies treat the BCL in general proves their assumption to be correct.)
The current story of Phulpori, a fresher at the Islamic University in Kushtia, who went public about her physical and psychological torture at the hands of IU BCL's women activists, gives us a glimpse of what goes on in the name of student activities on public university campuses. Phulpori was guilty of staying in a residential hall – named after our prime minister, Deshratna Sheikh Hasina Hall (one would have hoped that since the hall bears the leader's name, an attempt would be made to set it up as a model hall with ideal behaviour by all, especially the BCL) – without the permission of the BCL's hall leadership. She was asked to see one of them, which she did after 48 hours. Such defiance needed a lesson to be taught, and thus began her journey of four hours of torture – from 11 pm to 3:30 am – on the night of February 12. Usually, a victim is so frightened that she either runs away from the dorms or, if the situation is so dire that she cannot do so, she accepts and keeps totally mum about her humiliation and sufferings. (Many of the past victims we tried to talk to outright refused, saying "You have no idea about the repercussions.")
But Phulpori was made of sterner stuff. The daughter of a rickshaw van puller, whose father has hauled his three-wheeler for years through monsoon rain and summer heat to pay for her education. She herself, being determined to change her fate, was not to be dissuaded by the likes of Sanjida, the vice-president of the IU BCL unit who planned and executed the torture. Phulpori went public and complained to the university authorities and the media, which resulted in two separate inquiries – one by the university and the other by the District Administration at the behest of the High Court.
An inevitable effect of the all-empowering sway of BCL politics in the public universities is the ever-dwindling power of the university administrations. The VCs, proctors, hall provosts, house tutors, and other administrative bodies are mostly appointed on political basis. Hence, they know the importance of keeping the BCL on their side, both to run the university and to hold on to their tenure. The cases of certain VCs – not all – being involved in corruption have greatly sullied the image and reputation of university administrations.
Both reports detail what Phulpori was subjected to, including physical attacks and being forced to "touch the feet" of Sanjida in supplication to seek forgiveness. She, at one stage, in front of other residents, ordered those present to each slap Phulpori in turn as a punishment. The torture continued in front of the provost. She was also confined to a room and a video was made of her torture – which is currently untraceable, but the High Court has ordered it to be produced.
The description is vivid: the torture she suffered is horrendous, the behaviour of the hall administration totally unforgivable. The sad part of it is that today it is not uncommon.
Why has the BCL's treatment of fellow students gotten so rotten? There are, of course, many factors: lack of ideology, deterioration of moral values, the parent organisation's own degradation, the overriding corruption, staying too long in power without any accountability, never being held accountable for misuse of power or physically harming others, etc. However, in our view, the real malaise is the "sense of entitlement" that appears to dominate the belief system of most ruling party members, especially that of the BCL who feel they literally own the public universities, to be used as they please. Everything that can lead to financial benefits and enhancement of their power base has to go through them. In many ways, they constitute an alternative administration. The vice-chancellors (VCs) often appear helpless in the face of pressure that the BCL can and does exert. Among the most notorious of impositions on general residents is the forced attendance to all BCL activities, even if it means missing classes and tutorials. Obviously, there is no scope for any dissent.
It must be mentioned here that during the years that the BNP was in power, Chhatra Dal (BNP's student wing) drove out every single supporter of the BCL from all the halls of Dhaka University, instituting a similar reign of terror.
An inevitable effect of the all-empowering sway of BCL politics in the public universities is the ever-dwindling power of the university administrations. The VCs, proctors, hall provosts, house tutors, and other administrative bodies are mostly appointed on political basis. Hence, they know the importance of keeping the BCL on their side, both to run the university and to hold on to their tenure. The cases of certain VCs – not all – being involved in corruption have greatly sullied the image and reputation of university administrations.
The politics of university teachers and their undeclared but well-known party affiliations have had disastrous consequences for our public universities in recent times. Teachers doing politics and students doing their own have been well-established practices in Dhaka University. There is no harm in that. What makes our case destructive is the surrendering of academic freedom, independent thinking and "party above everything else" attitude of a section of the teachers. This has greatly contributed to the lowering of the prestige of teachers as the great "mentors" of learning (in our culture, the position of a teacher is very high and almost unquestioned). This also led to the rise in power of student wings of the respective political parties to which the teachers belong, as the latter need students' support in their own electioneering. Unfortunately, party politics has cut across university teachers, students and administration leading to the phenomenon of "politics above scholarship." This is what is destructive, not politics per se.
For those of us who are personal witnesses to the glorious days of our student politics and bask in the proud images of our teachers upholding the highest principles of truth, honesty and courage to protest against power, the present state of both the students and the teachers – thankfully there are some heart-warming exceptions – are sad indeed.
There was a time when student politics – especially the period that led to our Liberation War – gave the nation hope, confidence and joy. Today, it is a source of despair, sorrow and, very sadly, fear.
Mahfuz Anam is the editor and publisher of The Daily Star.
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