Photo: Firoz Ahmed/The Daily Star

Uprising and Nation-Building

Uprisings, revolutions, or independence movements occur when the collective will of the people manifests as an unimaginable, united force. However, each uprising carries its own character, and each revolution leads to a different outcome. This mass awakening can elevate a nation to greatness but, at the same time, if state leaders fail or act selfishly, it can just as easily plunge a country into long-lasting chaos.

In War and Peace, Tolstoy repeatedly refers to the spirit of strength radiating from the French Revolution. A nation like France, humiliated for centuries, became so empowered by the revolution that its soldiers not only transformed their homeland but, like lava erupting from a volcano, spread across all of Europe – conquering battlefields in Italy, Spain, Austria – until the revolutionary heat finally cooled in the vast frozen plains of Russia. One of Tolstoy's central motivations for writing this great novel was to understand what spark causes such an eruption of energy within a society.

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Time and again, people of this region, too, have experienced the potential unleashed when the elixir of freedom touches them. In his Unfinished Memoirs, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman recalls the surge of enthusiasm among the volunteers of the Pakistan Movement after independence from the British in 1947, and how the Muslim League attempted to suppress it:

"People and government employees worked tirelessly, day and night. In many places, I saw a single officer managing an entire office. A peon and a constable maintained law and order in a whole police station with the help of League volunteers. People boarded trains depositing money, since there were no tickets. Corruption vanished as if by magic. Gradually, everything began to decline, solely because of government policies. They didn't know how to engage an awakened nation in nation-building."

The reason was simple – most of the leaders wanted Pakistan for themselves. If the volunteers did all the work, what role would be left for them? So, the following happened:

"Khawaja Nazimuddin ordered the dissolution of the Muslim League National Guard. Zahiduddin, Mirza Ghulam Hafiz, and several others protested. After all, this organisation had actively contributed to the creation of Pakistan. ... Instead of utilising them for development, the national government dismantled the organisation, igniting a sentiment of animosity among them. Leaders of the National Guard, however, decided to continue the organisation, designating Jahiruddin as Salaare-Suba (military chief of the province). He was arrested a few days after coming to Dhaka. By not engaging such a well-established institution for the country's development efforts, the government ultimately harmed the country. ... Some asked us, 'Where will we get the money to make them work?' But these people didn't ask for money. They could've worked for years with only minimal expenses… They weren't even paid salaries. The passion National Guard and Muslim League workers had for creating Pakistan — the government failed to harness it."

The result was the return of bureaucratic rule across Pakistan, bringing with it corruption, hoarding, food shortages, unemployment, and smuggling. The Unfinished Memoirs recounts this too, as a boatman in Gopalganj tells Sheikh Mujib:

"Bhai jaan, you've come only now, I'm doomed. There are five of us, and we've been ordered to pay five taka. Some days I earn two taka, some days even less — how can I pay five taka? Yesterday, the chowkidar confiscated a brass lota from my father's time because I couldn't pay." He broke into tears saying this… Then he said, "It was from you, I heard of Pakistan, and this is the Pakistan you brought us?"

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How much did Bangladesh learn from this lesson in the Unfinished Memoirs after gaining its own independence? Let me share, from memory, an anecdote of Colonel Kazi Nuruzzaman. Around 16 December, his sector's freedom fighters told him, "We thought the war might last ten years like in Vietnam. But the country was liberated in just nine months! We don't want to return home yet. We want to eliminate illiteracy, repair roads, assist with agriculture, restore local administration. We don't want any salary, just food, clothing, and shelter will do."

A thrilled Nuruzzaman saw in them the spirit of Vietnam, China, or Soviet Russia – warriors who had kept schools running during wartime, helped farmers and workers, and engaged in national reconstruction. He eagerly joined them. But within a few days, the camp was dismantled, and the fighters were each handed 50 rupees and sent home.

Thus, the post-Liberation enthusiasm faded quickly – just as it had after 1947. But this time, the disillusionment was even more bitter, because the hope and promises of 1971 were even stronger. So, too, was the sense of betrayal.

Consider writer and politician Shamsuddin Abu Zafar, a personal friend of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. After the tragic assassination of 15 August, he was so distraught that he even contemplated leaving the country. In his diary, expressing his disappointment three and a half years after independence, he wrote:

"[16 April 1975] Today was the Ghorashal fair. I stayed home. In childhood, I used to see so much excitement about fairs among villagers. Today, barely a fraction of that remained. People are too busy harvesting boro rice. They are troubled by hunger. No one even remembers the fair. The poor farm labourers told me they are surviving day after day by boiling flour in hot water and eating it like barley…"

And a few days later he wrote:

"[11 August 1975] … The Mujibs ride in a Mercedes while that boy sleeps in a manhole. This is Bangladesh in 1975. A country whose 74% of budget depends on foreign aid – its President imported not one but two Mercedes cars. Each costs £30,000. At government rates, that's 900,000 taka in London. With taxes, the cost will be 2.7 million taka here. Meanwhile, salaries aren't paid yet. The telephone lines are still dead."

Even after such bloodshed, true liberation remained elusive, tied closely to the personal and class character of those who assumed power, and significantly, to a lack of any visionary ambition conducive to nation-building. There was no grand vision of what the state should be – only a desire to plunder, to enrich kin and allies. In Ahmed Sofa's words, quoting Professor Razzak:

"History gave Sheikh Mujib a chance to become a statesman. He failed to seize it."

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This is also a fact: that every transition from one era to another leaves indelible marks on history. The Pakistan Movement freed Muslim peasants from zamindari rule. The Liberation War freed Bengalis from the grip of the Pakistani state, controlled by the military and civilian bureaucrats. But at every historical juncture, this land has failed to realise its full potential, never achieving that positive post-revolutionary transformation that reconstitutes a nation and elevates it to a new level of civilisation.

Take the story of Vietnam from Kazi Nuruzzaman's narrative again. More bombs were dropped on Vietnam than on all of Europe during World War II. They gained independence after us. Yet today, Bangladesh cannot compare to Vietnam – once reduced to ashes by napalm bombs – on any global benchmarks. Even non-revolutionary countries like Singapore, South Korea, and Malaysia – each had leaders who envisioned and pursued a nation-building dream. That's where we fell behind, every single time.

Surely, the 2024 mass uprising, too, will leave a deep imprint on Bangladesh's history. Regardless of what happens next, any future attempt to impose terror by any group in educational institutions will face fierce resistance. The courage and experience of fightback these young people have acquired has influenced the people of this country, once again after many years, to pursue new political dreams, new ideologies, and new visions of society.

We know despair has engulfed many over the past year. The question of whether Bangladesh will move forward or descend into anarchy has emerged for valid reasons. The only source of hope is this awakened generation of youth. In ancient mythology, the churning of the ocean first brought forth poison. Shiva held it in his throat. Only then came the nectar.

We are now living through the phase of spewing poison of the 2024 uprising. What we now need is the emergence of leadership with a bold reimagination for politics, a constitution, and an economic roadmap — leadership that is capable of bringing nectar to this nation as well.

Firoz Ahmed is a researcher, editor, and a member of the Constitutional Reform Commission. The article was translated by Miftahul Jannat.

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