Bangladesh’s historic opportunity to build institutions that strengthen democracy and plurality

By Vidya Bhushan Rawat* 

There was complete chaos outside the airport when I landed in Dhaka. The main highway did not have enough policemen. My friend, who came to pick me up, mentioned that Dhaka’s traffic was being managed by locals and student volunteers. The air was thick with pollution, reminiscent of Delhi after Diwali. As my friend drove me to my accommodation, I noticed walls painted with portraits of Sheikh Hasina—many of them defaced, either blackened or marked with a cross. He pointed out the ‘Gana Bhavan,’ the official residence of the Prime Minister, which looked abandoned and neglected. Once the center of power in Dhaka, it now seemed like the most unwanted place.

The next day, I decided to explore Dhaka, and my friend took me to the Dhaka University campus. I visited several departments, where crowds of students gathered, likely for new admissions. I was particularly interested in seeing two historically significant sites. The first was the Shaheed Minar, a monument built to honor the martyrs of the Bengali Language Movement of 1952. Seven protesters were killed, and over 300 were injured during the movement, which fueled widespread anger against West Pakistan’s dominance and the imposition of Urdu. Despite its historical importance, the site now looked abandoned and neglected. There were no informational plaques, and layers of dust covered the structure. However, young people were still visiting and taking photographs. What stood out to me was an Arabic inscription on the monument—an indication of the shifting cultural landscape in Bangladesh. A friend later explained the irony: the very movement that resisted the imposition of Urdu is now seeing the growing influence of Arabic in public discourse. Organizations like Jamaat-e-Islami are actively promoting Arabic terms to reinforce an Islamic identity, subtly shifting the linguistic and cultural fabric of Bangladesh.

When I asked my friend to talk to an auto driver about his views on Sheikh Hasina’s government, his response was telling: "Why promote 'Joy Bangla' instead of Islam?" He expressed disappointment that Hasina did not encourage mosque attendance but also criticized Jamaat-e-Islami for supporting Muhammad Yunus.

At Dhaka University, I visited Curzon Hall, another historic site connected to the Bengali Language Movement. It was here, on March 19, 1948, that Muhammad Ali Jinnah, the then Governor-General of Pakistan, declared:

"There can, however, be one lingua franca, that is, the language for inter-communication between the various provinces of the state, and that language should be Urdu and cannot be any other. The state language, therefore, must obviously be Urdu. Make no mistake about it."

Jinnah was met with loud protests of "No, no!"—a rare moment where he faced direct defiance. Undeterred, he warned students about "fifth columnists" trying to weaken Pakistan. This moment marked a significant rupture between East and West Pakistan. Despite East Pakistan’s larger population, political and military power remained concentrated in the hands of West Pakistan’s elite, particularly the Punjabi leadership. The 1970 general elections exposed this divide—Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s Awami League won 160 out of 300 seats, making it the largest party. However, West Pakistan’s leadership refused to accept the results, triggering mass unrest and military intervention. This ultimately led to the Liberation War of 1971, culminating in the birth of Bangladesh on March 26, 1971.

Curzon Hall, where Jinnah’s speech took place, now houses the Department of Physics at Dhaka University. Sadly, no plaques or memorials mark this historically significant moment, and the auditorium where Jinnah spoke remains inaccessible.

The Bengali Language Movement paved the way for a broader struggle against oppression. The roots of Pakistan’s crisis lay in its attempt to impose one language, one identity, and one culture—a mistake that ultimately led to its division. Yet, majoritarianism remains a challenge across South Asia. Pakistan, founded on religious identity, initially promoted Urdu, but today, Punjabi dominates its political and military landscape.

In 1947, the Pakistan Constituent Assembly mandated that new members take their oath in Urdu or English, sparking protests from East Bengal. Dhirendranath Dutta argued that Bengali—spoken by the largest section of Pakistan’s population—should be included. The demand was repeatedly rejected by leaders like Liaquat Ali Khan and Khawaja Nazimuddin. By 1952, the protests escalated, leading to police crackdowns and killings. The Shaheed Minar stands as a tribute to this struggle, yet today, its neglect is a stark reminder of how history can be erased or rewritten.

Bangladesh has historically taken pride in its language and cultural heritage, unlike Pakistan, which often distanced itself from its past. However, the rise of religious nationalism now threatens Bangladesh’s multicultural identity. Many countries in the Global South face similar challenges—where democracy is often a facade for authoritarian rule. Corruption, identity politics, and compromised institutions create conditions ripe for dictatorial leaders who thrive on division.

India provides a cautionary tale. During the Emergency (1975-77), Jayaprakash Narayan’s movement against Indira Gandhi gave legitimacy to the RSS and Jan Sangh, bringing them into mainstream politics. Similarly, Anna Hazare’s 2011 anti-corruption movement discredited the Congress Party but ultimately benefited the Hindutva elite. Western media celebrated these movements as democratic uprisings, but they inadvertently empowered majoritarian forces.

In Bangladesh, Sheikh Hasina’s government became widely unpopular, but the so-called "revolution" against her was not entirely organic. The United States and Western powers have a long history of manipulating public opinion to suit their geopolitical interests. Just as the Arab Spring was selectively supported, Bangladesh’s regime change was quietly endorsed by Western powers. The Trump administration has even claimed that USAID and other foundations under Clinton and Obama played a role in facilitating the anti-Hasina movement.

Recently, the historic residence of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was set on fire by an unruly mob. The government has granted amnesty to many involved in anti-Hasina protests, effectively encouraging acts of historical erasure. Throughout my travels in Bangladesh, I saw beautiful street art celebrating freedom and unity, but alongside it, I also saw defaced images of Sheikh Mujib. Protesting against an authoritarian government is justified, but erasing the memory of Bangladesh’s independence movement is dangerous.

Most post-colonial leaders in the Global South who fought for independence eventually became autocrats, often with Western backing. The new model of regime change avoids direct military interventions, instead relying on social media-driven uprisings and "spontaneous" protests. However, without strong institutions, such revolutions often lead to new forms of authoritarianism.

Bangladesh still struggles with issues of Adivasi and Dalit rights, and the Rohingya crisis has added further strain. In northern regions like Dinajpur, many Hindus have fled amid rising communal tensions. A Hindu worker I met there expressed concerns over growing pressure from local mafias targeting his community. While communal harmony still exists in many places, the underlying fears and insecurities are growing.

At a wedding in Dinajpur, my friend Shah Mohammad Jinnah pointed out the presence of Hindu Marwaris in the gathering. The hosts served chicken and goat biryani to accommodate non-Muslim guests—a small but significant sign of Bangladesh’s pluralism.

Bangladesh has a rich cultural and historical heritage that must be protected from theocratic forces. India must also avoid interfering in Bangladesh’s domestic politics while supporting democratic institutions. The best way forward is cultural and people-to-people dialogue, resisting those who seek to divide South Asia along sectarian lines.

History teaches us that denigrating national icons weakens a nation’s identity. Bangladesh must learn from the past and resist forces that seek to erase its pluralistic heritage. A sectarian and communal vision will not take the nation forward. Instead, a strong democratic foundation and inclusive nationalism will ensure a just and prosperous future.

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*Human rights defender