Once a word steeped in betrayal and shame, Razakar has long symbolized the deepest kind of disloyalty in Bangladesh’s national psyche.
Originating during the 1971 Liberation War, the term referred to Bengali collaborators who aided the Pakistani military in brutal campaigns against their own people.
Over decades, Razakar came to signify treachery, anti-sovereignty sentiment, and a rejection of the ideals on which the nation was founded.
Yet on July 14, 2024, the meaning of the word underwent a radical — and deeply emotional — shift.
At a press conference held at Ganabhaban, senior journalist Probhash Amin posed a pointed question reflecting concerns about youth perceptions around the government’s quota system.
He argued that a segment of students had been misled to oppose the spirit of the Liberation War, confusing meritocracy with privilege.
“If I am presented with two equally meritorious candidates, one the child of a freedom fighter and the other the child of a Razakar, I will, without hesitation, choose the freedom fighter’s child.”
He praised the government’s efforts and urged officials to proceed sensitively so that the historical legacy would not be misinterpreted by younger generations.
In response, then-prime minister Sheikh Hasina, speaking during the same event, countered with a rhetorical question that would ignite public fury: “So are you saying the children and grandchildren of freedom fighters are talentless, while those of Razakars are all talented?”
Within hours, the exchange galvanized thousands of protesting students who took to the streets chanting:
“Cheye chilam odhikar, hoye gelam Razakar” (We asked for rights, ended up branded Razakar)
“Tumi ke? Ami ke? Razakar, Razakar!” (Who are you? Who am I? Razakar, Razakar!)
These slogans — ironic, furious, defiant — marked a dramatic reappropriation of a word that had been weaponized to silence dissent.
It was the first time in Bangladesh since its Liberation that a group publicly said with pride that they were Razakars, albeit with a different meaning.
Students said that this interpretation of the word was not about denying the sovereignty of Bangladesh, but rising against the idea of suppressing a valid right by calling someone a Razakar.
Rakib Hossain, a student of history, who was present at the rally on that day, told Dhaka Tribune: “We took the word Razakar as a symbol on that day. We felt like owning the negative tag that was assigned to us and owning it to stand against them.
"Keeping a 30% reservation for the children and grandchildren of the freedom fighters was illogical. That was what the movement was about, not against the Liberation War."
Describing the timeline, Rakib said that around 9pm or 10pm, students started posting in Facebook groups related to Dhaka University about the comment.
He said he noticed that conversations were happening all over and that marches were coming out of various halls.
When the march reached in front of his hall, he joined it as well.
“The word Razakar once symbolized betrayal,” Rakib said. “But that night, it symbolized resistance. Not resistance against the Liberation War, but resistance against being silenced, labeled, and denied our rights.”
For a generation born long after 1971, July 14 marked not a rejection of history, but a confrontation with how that history is being used. And in that confrontation, they chose to own the slur—only to dismantle its power.