Ali Ahmed Ziauddin:

BANGLADESH once again finds itself in a tight spot. Ever since its birth, it has seen a series of turmoils. After more than half a century, we are yet to navigate our way out of it. Onus lies partly with our state formation, partly with the post-colonial global configuration of power, and of course partly with our political leadership. All three need to be addressed separately.

Why Bangladesh?

THE raison d’être for the liberation war was ethnicity. Pakistan deprived us both politically and economically, but what angered us most was that it wanted to erase our ethnic Bengali identity, which forms the basis of a nation. A nation may have other elements in its body politic, but without a shared ethnicity, its identity is partial. As the family is the basic unit of society, ethnicity is the first unit of nationality. A nation can be an artificial construct like so many postcolonial ones, but an ethnic people or society represents organic growth; as a real entity, it evolves over a long period of time; it cannot be imagined, bestowed, or imposed. It may have other attributes, but a shared ethnicity, space, dialect, and culture make them distinct. With all these traits, an ethnic group, at some point in its evolution, may grow into a nation. And with the twist and turn of history, it may also grow into a politically defined nation if its cultural and political aspirations match material conditions. However, this process may not automatically lead to statehood; a host of other conditions need to be present. In view of this general theory, how and when did the Bengalis evolve into a nation?

In the past millennia, several ethnic nations evolved on the subcontinent: the Bengali, Tamil, Gujarati, Marathi, Assamese, Punjabi, Rajput, and so on. Over the centuries, they worked out their cultural and political aspirations. But by the mid-19th century, most had started expressing their national ambition. For multiple reasons, Bengalis were ahead in this journey than others. And by the early 20th century, through the anti-Bengal partition agitation, they had staked their claim to a politically defined nation. But within a few years, for two key reasons, it petered out. First, Bengal itself failed to bridge the rift within, and second, the rising Indian national ambition became more alluring. While the second isn’t the focus here, the first, i.e., the Hindu-Muslim divide within Bengal, is. Unlike the rest of the subcontinent, both communities were nearly equal in size but grossly unequal in all other respects like wealth, education, and social status.

Bengali Hindus were at least 2–3 generations ahead in these areas. Bengali Muslims felt left out and were unwilling to be part of a nation where the Bengali Hindus would continue to be the dominant partner. They started nursing their Muslim identity while holding Bengali ethnicity. By 1946, when communal tension reached a peak, they voted nearly en bloc for the Muslim League in the provincial assembly election, which eventually paved the way for creating Pakistan. At that point, Bengali Muslims approved both of these identities as pillars of their nationhood, and by doing so, they endorsed the two-nation theory. But all was not well on the eastern front. They soon realised Pakistani rulers wanted to purge the Bengali identity from the Muslims of East Pakistan. Obviously, the latter resisted, and over the next two decades and more, through a series of political and cultural movements, the Bengalis claimed equity, which eventually led to seeking a separate state based on their ethnic identity in 1971. The Liberation War was a great feat. We took a quantum leap and became a nation-state — Bangladesh.

Roots of present turmoil

At least that’s what we had imagined. However, events proved otherwise. Having created a state, we began tearing ourselves apart, trying to figure out whether we were Muslims, Bengalis, or Muslim Bengalis as a nation. Why this confusion? It seems that while we had solid political ground for the liberation war, our philosophical basis was very weak. How come? The short answer is that the Pakistanis imposed the war on us, and we had no choice but to fight back to liberate ourselves. What does this simple but hard logic point to? Ours was an instinctive reply to a military crackdown bereft of a seriously thought-out philosophical foundation.

Are religious and national identities mutually exclusive? Not if their roles are clearly stated. Eons ago, faith was the primary identity of all societies. State and religion were indivisible. As a result, over a long period, both became corrupt, though at different stages of evolution. In the modern age, with the birth of nations, state and religion separated with clear roles. The state would look after the temporal affairs of society based on human reason, while religion would deal with the spiritual quest. Did we follow this principle in the post-liberation period? Here we enter a gray zone. Why the puzzle? The Awami League had led the liberation war and it was committed to a secular ideology; thus, it declared Bangladesh a secular state. For a Muslim-majority nation, this was indeed a very progressive act. But then Bangabandhu, the ultimate leader of the liberation war, was declared ‘Father of the Nation’ i.e., the Bengali nation, instead of the state or the founder.

This instantly led us into a minefield of contradictions. If Bangabandhu is attributed the ‘father of the nation’ title, it would mean the Bengali nation was born in 1971. It negates the well-recorded historical fact of the Bengali nation’s evolution over millennia. But the title is fully valid if the AL, deep in their minds, nursed the idea of a Muslim Bengali nation. If so, how does it differ from the two-nation theory? From 1946 right up to March 25, 1971, we were both Bengalis and Muslims. If, after waging a war to uphold our Bengali identity, we revert to the same old identity, how do we justify the war? Bangabandhu and the AL either couldn’t distinguish between nation and state, or the Lahore Resolution (the original one) was fixed in their minds. It had been proposed that the Muslim-majority provinces of undivided India would create multiple Muslim states. But Mr Jinnah had erased the’s’ letter in 1946, citing it a typographical error. That it would mean a sea change didn’t draw much attention in those heady days of 1946–47 but burst open on the socio-political stage of then-East Pakistan right after partition. If the AL leadership thinks 71 fixed Mr. Jinnah’s unwanted meddling, then unwittingly it accepts the Muslim Bengal concept, i.e., the philosophical foundation of the liberation war remains the Two Nation theory.

So, from early on, the paradox of promoting a secular state and nurturing a Bengali Muslim identity got implanted in our body politics, citing the majority logic. Such a paradoxical step was sure to have consequences. And it did. In 1977, a military dictator removed the secular article from the constitution and enabled the defeated Islamists and collaborators to regain footing in Bangladesh’s power circuit. Then, a decade later, another military man implanted state religion in the constitution. The state’s character began to look more like just another Pakistan. Yes, in 2013, the secular clause was restored, but in the meantime, a large chunk of public opinion has come to side with the idea of a Muslim Bengali nation. Reasons are many, but the key ones are: i) Failure of the secular Bengali nation to take deep root, mainly due to AL’s puzzling stand on this issue as explained earlier; ii) Watching India’s treatment of the Muslims and the global Islamophobia they feel holding on to religious nationhood is the only shield; and iii) Vast inflow of petrodollars from the Arab world leaves a negative effect on society. All combined, the society is regressive, intolerant, and repressive, as in other Muslim societies. Glimpses of how or why this needs our attention.

From the 8th to the 18th centuries, despite sectarian rifts and bloody power struggles in every region, an ‘Islamic World System’ prevailed from Spain to Indonesia. Over time, regions were lost or gained, but the rest of the world nevertheless had to come to terms with this system. Just like any other civilisation or empire, this system too became complacent and came to imagine that the sun wouldn’t set in its world. Though some of the key ideas of the industrial revolution were born in the Islamic world in its heydays, they were developed in Europe from the 18th century onward. It ushered in modernity. The balance of power rapidly started to shift to Europe. Muslims all over, justifiably baffled and frustrated, never fully recovered from the shock.

Unable to cope with the capitalist onslaught of the colonial project and entailing violence, Muslim societies, like other traditional societies, buckled alright but held a profound grudge against modernity and westernisation and, by extension, one of its core values, separation of state and religion. Europe embraced modernity by ridding itself of feudal order and control by the church through a series of revolutions and reforms. But for the rest of the world, including Islamic societies, a similar transformation was yet far away. They still had to contend with their medieval past while suffering the colonial yoke.

Initially, the Muslim world ignored the colonial project and retreated to nurse their wounded pride. But over time, it was impossible to ignore the West’s incredible scientific progress. Like other colonial people, Muslims too had to deal with its impact. Ever since, in a variety of ways, they have reacted and interacted in both positive and negative ways. Though the call for reform was widely shared across the entire Islamic world, the call for rigid orthodoxy was also strident. While the first camp wished to modernise and, to some extent, westernise in the socio-political arena while retaining Islam in the sacred and cultural sphere, the latter was open to adopting higher technology but refused any inroads in the socio-political arena. Both of these currents appeared in various forms in different regions of the Islamic world in the mid-19th century.

So long as the colonial yoke was present, their influence was limited. Both camps debated their opposite views mostly within the confines of the modern drawing rooms of the elites or inside the madrassahs. With the advent of decolonisation the long-festering tension between the two trends exploded. In the post-colonial decades, both became engaged in a stiff contest for the loyalty of Muslims across the world. While the reformist camp adopted the nation-state model with a mix of western legal systems and partial sharia laws, the orthodox school either retained monarchy or became one in various forms with sharia laws for governance. An extremist section in this camp wants to recreate the Khilafat but has few takers.

The roots of these diverse views within Islam go back to the period when, between the 9th and early 13th centuries, its civilisational attributes were being cultivated. The more Islam spread in new regions amid new cultures, assimilation and governance became hotly debated issues. Matters related to civil and criminal law, faith, and taxation needed to be adapted, adopted, discussed, and implemented. Thus, there were many schools of thought to guide the rulers on how to interpret and apply the Quranic laws. There were several such schools, but the two main ones were the rationalists and the conservatives. Even if they had contrary views on most issues, they nevertheless debated in the spirit of ijtihad (open scholastic debate). But once the political situation grew tense and rivalry between many centers of power became acute, these schools too were affected. Especially after the Mongol blitz, they were in a fix, causing a deep rift within the entire Islamic world system. Finally, by the late 13th century, the arch-conservative school had won the struggle. Slowly but surely, over decades and centuries, a Dark Age crept into the intellectual life of Islam. All creative and critical thinking got slowly stifled.

Although even after the Frankish and Mongol wars, three large Muslim empires were born, thrived, and also decayed over centuries, Muslim societies remained mostly moribund in an insulated world of decadence. In many ways, they are yet to come out of this stupor. Yes, it is true that most Islamic societies have welcomed modernity, but the key issue of nationality on the basis of ethnicity or religion has not been resolved. The difference is that one is expected to be governed by laws created by human reason, while the other must abide by divine law. Trying to merge the two will surely lead a modern society, at best, towards a rupture and, at worst, to open conflict. And that’s what we are witnessing not only across the Muslim world but in all traditional societies outside the collective west. This tussle deteriorates with a helping hand of imperial machination or great power rivalry.

This is the broad canvas upon which Muslim and other traditional societies began to chart their course in the global community in the wake of decolonisation.

Quest for democracy

DECOLONISATION, however, brought with it a window of opportunity as well as a headache for the post-colonial world. They were now free to choose their destiny but also constrained to operate within a global order they had neither created nor had much influence over. Surely their energy and ambitions were endless, but the gift to match them was limited. Nearly all were charmed by Western liberal democracy, as was post-liberation Bangladesh. It, too, embarked on a similar journey. Like most postcolonial states, we also thought creating the structures, i.e., a constitution, a parliament, the judiciary, and all other related bodies, would bring democracy. But what we didn’t consider was that democracy doesn’t fall from the sky. It’s the result of a long-protracted struggle between the opposing classes, interest groups represented by political parties, and other state agencies. All claim their share of the pie from the state. This is a process known as social engineering that the West had to endure, which was often turbulent, nasty, and bloody, before negotiating a settlement to make their democracy work. It’s impossible to copy and paste their achievements without a social transformation process of our own. Each society will need to devise its own path in view of its peculiar conditions. What suits the West may not suit other societies.

The West had the Enlightenment movement that provided the philosophical foundation of their liberal democracies. Its material condition was provided by first pillage, then the colonial project that included the massacre of the natives and the expropriation of their lands, and then slavery. There was still another dimension of this historical process rarely admitted in any western narrative that needs mention. The democratic aspirations of the common people triggered by the social and industrial revolutions in Europe were stifled between 1815 and 1914 on the streets of Western cities like Berlin, Paris, London, New York, and Chicago by the notorious ‘blood and iron tactics’. What eventually emerged was the creation of permanent security states ruled by oligarchies, a collective of civil-military bureaucracies and big business represented by political parties. Slowly, they also co-opted a part of the working class into this scheme. Ever since, these elites devised and worked out ways to keep the people away from the levers of power, i.e., the vital decision-making processes that do affect their daily lives. This is what lies at the heart of the so-called liberal democracies in the collective West. When the West lectures the rest of the world, they very conveniently forget their own past or the continued invasion and breach of bounds of the members of the United Nations.

What about the developing world? It has few of the conditions or benefits of the western world, but it is asked to obey the G7 diktats and practice liberal democracy; otherwise, they cannot access Western markets, credits, or other benefits or services. They are warned of and often imposed sanctions and accused of human rights violations that, of course, don’t apply to them. When the West was nursing democracy at home, it was demonising the rest of the world. Liberal democracy is neither universal nor perfect; it’s just the other face of western imperialism that’s been going on for a few centuries. And democracy outside the West is a mockery on a varying scale. A mixture of money, muscle, fraud, rigging, and often meddling by mainly the US for whatever shady reason plays a key role in their democratic process. Functioning within these parameters, the developing world is, in many ways, trying to build a democratic system that works for them and may not look like the ones in the West. Bangladesh is no exception; with meager resources, it found itself gasping for breath right at birth. Living mostly on aid, it was labeled ‘a basket case’ — a sticker that took nearly half a century to get rid of; meanwhile, it suffered excessive turmoil and much bloodshed.

Internal discord made matters worse. An irreconcilable divide over the issue of national identity has wrecked all cohesion in the body politic, spreading into every nook and cranny of all other divides ranging from class, gender, and ethnicity to all other civic bodies. Multiple military interventions didn’t help much. This divide refuses to go away, creating space for external forces to take advantage by taking sides. The murky democratic process for the past three decades has failed to provide stability. Perhaps we are suffering from the painful but inescapable social engineering process. Besides, we are also constrained by limitations that are only active in our case, like excessive population density. Bangladesh’s size is the same as the state of Illinois in the US. Its population is around 12 million, while we have 170 million. On top of that, climate change due to global warming is constantly making matters worse. That we have survived so long is a miracle. But it’s no excuse; we need to strive for improvement.

And it’s here that we are stumbling most. The major divide over nationality has reached a boiling point. Although we renewed our democratic pledge back in the early nineties, we have never attained political stability since then. The reasons are many. Neither side is blameless, but there is a thin blue line that can be drawn between the two. And that line can be traced back to three prickly incidents in 2001–2006, when the Bangladesh Nationalist Party lead the government. Until then, despite a lot of hiccups, our newborn parliamentary democracy seemed to be slowly taking shape. The 1991 election was widely accepted; it gave the BNP a clear mandate. The AL grumbled but, in the end, gave in. Then, in 1996, under a caretaker government, the result was reversed, and BNP too, after a lot of complaints, accepted the result. In 2001, the same play recurred; this time AL lost, but after a lot of protests, they joined the house. Our nascent democracy seemed to be taking root. And then suddenly came the death knell. Until then, though both parties measured each other as enemies, they at least had the decency not to cause any physical harm to their respective leaders.

First, two of the most infamous razakars (war collaborators of 1971) were given cabinet posts that showed a total disregard for the liberation war. Second, attempting to assassinate the then leader of the opposition, Sheikh Hasina, and then frame an innocent guy was a dreadful crime. Third, trying to provide a huge cache of arms to the Indian insurgents risked grim friction with India. All three acts displayed a complete lack of foresight, the long-term repercussion on our nascent democracy, and on diplomatic ties with India was not considered. What made the BNP act so recklessly? They defend the first and deny the other two. How can such devious acts happen without a nod from key actors at the top? What was its motive? Since BNP’s political orientation is towards Muslim Bengal nationalism, by extension, the two-nation theory, it cannot clearly distinguish between the razakars, who collaborated with the Pakistanis in 1971 and the freedom fighters or others who didn’t.

Though the other two also reflect BNP’s deep-seated hatred for AL and its leader, as well as for India, it’s their rejection of Bengali nationhood that primarily drives them to challenge any party, group, or leader that represents the latter. Such cavalier attitudes led it to risk a probable conflict with India and try to kill the AL chief in broad daylight. These reckless acts caused our nascent democratic process to go off the rails and have since then remained tangled in a Gordian’s knot. In a sense, it reflects the contested national vision over identity. Whether we should adhere to the Bengali nation identity or the Bengali Muslim nation identity is once again in focus. Even if this issue doesn’t appear so explicit in BNP’s ongoing movement, it lies at the heart of all rivalry between the two main groups in Bangladesh’s political arena. Rarely in history, if at all, did religious doctrines, ideas, or groups give space to secular ideas or groups without a hitch that was often costly, messy, or even bloody. Can we avoid that fate? After noting BNP’s role in creating the present impasse, it’s now AL’s turn to look at it in brief.

What is to be done?

THE Awami League has been in power for nearly a decade and a half. It has several concrete achievements under its belt, but its failings are no less prominent. According to World Bank figures, between 2009 and 2023, our per capita GDP increased from $900 to nearly $2700. In the same period, life expectancy rose from 69 to 73, poverty-level dropped from 30 to 20, while real wages of the working people nearly doubled, though the harmful effects of Covid and the G7 sanctions war on Russia causing inflation are eating into it. And the infrastructure development has been phenomenal. Yet, so many vital areas are in a total mess, especially the energy, finance, and education sectors. Governance has nearly crumbled, and corruption in bureaucracies and at high places is endemic. The opposition parties are regularly harassed, freedom of the press has become a joke, and the independence of the judiciary is questionable.

Can a drastic political upheaval correct all these ills? Such drastic measures in an already volatile political situation make things far worse. Bangladesh is at such a critical juncture. On top of this constant pressure from the EU, the US in particular is menacing. The US is making a constant diplomatic push to enforce its diktats, even if it means risking a bloody conflict. It has failed to impose liberal democracy either through sanctions or even invasions anywhere. It’s a social contract that needs to grow from within, definitely not under duress. No country in history has ever graduated from an underdeveloped to even a moderately developed stage with liberal democratic governance without sustained growth for at least two to three decades. But this basic fact doesn’t bother the US; it needs to pursue its own strategy, come what may; it’s called imperial logic.

Besides, it’s also upset that we are not toeing the US line in censuring or sanctioning Russia. And then it expects Bangladesh to join its anti-China coalition, given its strategic location in the Bay of Bengal. Thus, it needs a compliant regime here. Do we want that? Hopefully, no contesting political parties in Bangladesh would want that to happen. Hence, it’s vital for all the main parties to come to an agreement to share power and avoid anarchy.

How do we go about it?

DESPITE BNP’s transgressions during 2001–06, mentioned earlier, they nevertheless enjoy extensive public support. It will be unwise to discount its role in the future power equation. On the other hand, the AL too enjoys wide support. Keeping either party out of power with the excuse that the winner takes it all in a parliamentary democracy will result in constant tension. Moreover, since elections have turned into a contest of money and muscle power, it’s futile to expect the electorate to make conscious and informed choices free of influence peddling. Hence, it may be sensible to ask both to share power since both enjoy nearly equal support. In broad terms, AL stands for Bengali nationalism, though tangled in confusion, while BNP stands for Muslim Bengali nationalism, implying the two-nation theory. This is at the heart of the present turmoil. It has been festering for a long time, caused by key paradoxical constitutional provisions. Such political impasses aren’t unheard of in other countries. No matter how insurmountable it looks, we must find a way out of the jam by ourselves. Our future is at stake.

Despite all its faults, limitations, corruption, mismanagement, and sheer incompetence, the AL government under the leadership of prime minister Sheikh Hasina has definitely improved the overall condition of the country. But the glass is still half empty, meaning it has a long way to go. Continuity is crucial. Of course, the government needs to address much of the ills it has accrued over the years and take stringent measures against the corrupt elements. But above all, it needs to realise it simply cannot find stability by keeping BNP away from the corridors of power. It needs to build bridges with it and share some of its power. Both need to make a deal before the election for the sake of our future. It’s of utmost necessity to make the following three constitutional amendments in order to build a durable, democratic, and accountable state structure that is inspired by the true spirit of our liberation war. If not, we risk civil unrest, chaos, and yes, insecurity—all detrimental to Bangladesh’s development. The constitutional amendments that need to be considered are: 1) Bangabondhu’s title of father of the nation needs to be amended to father/founder of the state; 2) the article of state religion needs to be removed; and 3) the power between the office of the president and the office of the prime minister needs to be more balanced. It’s binding for all political parties to make a pledge to adhere to these amendments to remain a legal entity. These key issues, apart from other political matters related to power sharing, will need to be worked out.

Ali Ahmed Ziauddin is a researcher and activist.