It is not enough that justice has been served in the Bangabandhu Murder Case. The culture of using his memory to serve political ends must also stop
Justice has finally shown its face in Bangladesh, and for the first time in a long, long time, Bangladeshis appeared by-and-large united as they accepted it. The decision by the Appellate Division of the Supreme Court on November 19, 2009 to uphold a 1998 ruling by the High Court that condemns the killers of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and his family to death by hanging will stand as a landmark verdict in the judicial annals of this country.
Up until this point, Bangladesh has stood as close to an example of a banana republic as you can get while actually having all the apparatus for a fully functioning state in place. Eminent personalities have been killed in state custody. Coups have been followed by counter-coups. Ministers and metre-readers have looted relentlessly. Ordinary citizens have flouted laws carelessly. Everyone in Bangladesh is familiar with the callous mentality that besieges its population, that is ultimately behind even relatively small indiscretions like not stopping at a red light: You can get away with anything in Bangladesh. The fear of being held accountable for your actions does not exist. The culture of impunity in Bangladesh runs deep and spreads wide.
The Supreme Court's decision is of national importance for this reason. It can provide a fillip to any efforts to establish accountability in our society, without which our basest instincts have come to the fore and deprived us of harmony and progress.
We must not at this juncture deny that it is a culture that began to take root right after independence was attained in 1971. The killing of Bangabandhu itself can be said to have stemmed from this, but it would be remiss to ignore the misdeeds of the great man's close associates and cohorts. The corruption that till today eats away at the social fabric of Bangladesh, had already spread its poisonous tentacles far and wide by 1975, whether we like it or not. The nation back then was fledgling, and its foundations were not the strongest. Given more time, possibly Bangabandhu would have brought the corrupting elements in his administration into line, united his people and turned things around. Certainly since the events on the night of August 15, 1975, no one else has looked likely.
They haven't because no one has quite come along to just naturally command the kind of respect that Bangabandhu did. No leader has emerged with quite the same charisma as him, the same magnetism as him. The whole aura surrounding him was different. In keeping with South Asian tradition, if we must have a Father of the Nation, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was not only eminently qualified, you couldn't look beyond him.
Eventually, we anointed him as such. But by this time, things had gotten ugly, and his memory had already been dishonoured. The sad fact of the matter is that as much as this dishonour had been wreaked by those who opposed the principles upon which he founded this nation, it has been driven by those who have entrusted themselves with the responsibility of defending it.
A flip-flopping history
It is by now common knowledge that what Bangladeshis learn of the history of their nation growing up keeps changing with changes in government. When the BNP is in power, they endeavour to downplay the greatness of Bangabandhu, and in his place promote the role played by their founder, Zia ur Rahman. When the Awami League comes to replace them, they in turn try to exaggerate Bangabandhu's greatness, while Zia's good works are brushed under the carpet. The Zia-Mujib rivalry will probably go down as the first rivalry in history where the protagonists, during their lifetimes, probably had no idea they were going to get embroiled in anything of the sort. It is a posthumous rivalry that has always been unnecessary, erected to serve the political ends of those who stand to benefit by attaching themselves to their great names. It is sickening in its manifestation, most of all for its pettiness. But that is probably to be expected as those who have carried the torch for each of them have been petty people, unfit to hold a candle to either of them.
That is why instead of the establishment of an independent commission that determines the true, accurate history of this nation's birth, the turbulence that followed, and everything else that finds acceptance as the definitive account for a history book, we find changes in syllabi and changes in books resulting in nothing but detriments. Not only is one generation learning something different from the next, delays accrue to hamper a student's learning and academic development.
The random renaming of streets and monuments and bridges and conference centres in their names is another petty manifestation of the rivalry, and here the League outguns the BNP by quite some margin. There can be little doubt that Sheikh Mujibur Rahman envisioned many of the developments that have taken place in independent Bangladesh, even many of the projects that only started after his passing away. That is what any leader does, especially those who lead their countries to freedom as Bangabandhu did. It is quite unnecessary however, for those who lead the Awami League now to impose some kind of ownership over these projects by putting his name to them. It serves nothing towards enhancing our appreciation of him, our understanding of him. We learn nothing about him or his work from this petty act. Especially when something has been long-established in a certain name (such as the IPGMR, or PG Hospital, established in 1965 that was renamed Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujib Medical University in 1998), renaming it in Bangabandhu's name is a needless act for promoting him. It in fact insults him, his memory.
What must be realised is that the memory of Bangabandhu, by dint of what he achieved for this nation, needs no embellishment. It is only the truth that must be propagated.
The whole tactic of course, is a political one, that fulfils a branding requirement for both parties. In the minds of the Bangladeshi public, the Awami League and the BNP are forever entwined with the names and the memories of Sheikh Mujib and Zia-ur-Rahman respectively. For both sides, the lack of uniform, structured ideologies underpinned by strong beliefs to do with economic or social policy, only serves to make the need to hold on to these personalities more pronounced. Since neither can effectively differentiate themselves from the other on policy issues, they need the Mujib-Zia rivalry to persist as the principal issue in Bangladeshi politics.
A brighter future
The need will not be disappointed for a while yet. As long as the vast majority of the population is living in rural areas, with a majority of it engaged in subsistence agriculture, and education levels low, the issues driving politics here will not attain the level of sophistication required to move beyond this rivalry. It is not before then that the two parties will start to expose their sorry inabilities to lead a country, when the citizens start to ask many more questions of them besides what their figureheads did for the nation. Both parties will endeavour to suppress this political awakening, for it will run counter to their interests, but as the citizens empower themselves with more and more knowledge, the turn of this tide is inevitable.
The challenge then, for both parties will be to reinvent themselves. Indeed it will be good for them. Politics is a game of survival, and in the past, in many nations, the survival instinct has led politicians to achieve things you would not think possible of them. So the Awami League and the BNP too will evolve, for ultimately they must cater to the needs of their electorate, even if it takes them time. Whichever party positions itself to handle this eventuality in advance will be able to reap great benefits, and possibly a prolonged period of dominance over the other. If both are caught on the backfoot, it will open a window for new parties to emerge, and emerge strongly, something that is nigh on impossible in the current political landscape.
It is only when such a day arrives that the memory of Bangabandhu (and our other great leaders) will be accorded the rightful respect. No wreath laid at his grave will be a product of sycophancy, no praise of his name will flow from political expediency. Nothing named in his memory will actually be named with one's own political interests in mind. He will belong to us all, not just one party, and all of us will defend him as all of us have access to a coherent and truthful account of his life and work. Above all else, that will be the day we can claim to make him proud, for this country will be a better incarnation of his dreams.