“Wait till the rest of them come out of their “Shibir” closet!” (referring to the student coordinators)
“Mazars destroyed, women violated and mobs killing people in cold blood! Is this the kind of freedom we wanted?”
“Hindu League, then Ansar League, then Sromik League. What will they come back as next?”
Thus read a few representative posts on social media. The whole nation is in a state of schizophrenia -- paranoia about the “hidden forces” behind the student movement on one side, and an equal and opposite paranoia about Awami League backed by Indian intelligence trying to destabilize society and sabotage the interim government on the other. Many more shades colour the space in between.
There is as of now little evidence to conclusively prove either of these claims, but the blown up paranoia on each side is a symptom of a much deeper problem that we have thus far failed to address -- the complete breakdown of trust and unity in society.
The broad-based public consensus that Sheikh Hasina needed to leave which emerged after Abu Sayeed’s public assassination has, with remarkable speed, devolved into a cacophony of hate speech, fear-mongering, and outright chaos.
This is already making the job of the government much harder than it needs to be. While dealing with broken institutions and a debilitated economy, the last thing this government needs is further destabilization of society itself.
The stakes are also very high indeed - the central mandate of the interim government, of instituting lasting reforms to our democratic apparatus, is unlikely to succeed and sustain within a fractured polity.
Before we can address these issues, we must first look beyond the symptoms into the underlying problem.
The deep well of trauma
The country only recently went through the most intense and traumatic 30-day period since independence -- hundreds were killed and thousands were maimed in cold blood. Many more were jailed and tortured. Children as young as 12 were on the streets protesting and braving bullets.
Parents and teachers all over the country were constantly on edge, knowing they couldn’t stop their children from joining the protests, and worried sick about what would happen to them when they did. The jubilation at the climax of the movement as Sheikh Hasina fled the country was also short-lived, as law and order broke down completely and minority establishments were attacked, mob killings and arson erupted, and nationwide robberies ensued.
Furthermore, it was not just those “36 days” of July and its equally violent aftermath. The suffocating, divisive, and repressive politics of the last 15 years meant that many sections of society -- the army, Aaynaghor detainees, Adibashis and Hefazat members as just a few examples of many -- harboured a deep sense of trauma and injustice without the ability to express and find closure.
It is therefore hardly a stretch to claim that we are today a nation with post-traumatic stress disorder. All of this unhealed trauma is pouring out on social media and elsewhere in unhelpful ways.
A fractured society
On top of this underlying trauma grows the deep fracturing that happened during July itself. Many people all across society sided with the murderous government or at least stayed silent as blood was flowing on the streets.
There was a deep sense of betrayal as heroes and loved ones we looked up to and expected to come to our aid and support -- from the favourite uncle to Muhammad Zafar Iqbal and Shakib Al Hasan -- failed to do so, and worse, justified the actions of the government.
As we emerged on the other side of August 5, there was therefore an understandable and nearly irresistible urge for vengeance, whether in the form of lynchings, forced resignations, public boycotts, or online trolling.
Of course there were many who truly had it coming, and deserve to be punished for myriad wrongdoings. But there were also many otherwise righteous people who -- confused by government propaganda, blinded by generational loyalties, afraid of the bikolpo (alternative), trying to protect their organizations, or terrorized by the consequences of protests against a fascist regime -- did not speak up on time.
I would argue that this segment of society numbers in the millions, much larger than the direct beneficiaries and criminals of the Awami regime.
It is often these same people -- marginalized and vilified and unable to express their inner battles to get reconciled in society -- who are becoming further entrenched in their beliefs, and are particularly susceptible to the fear-mongering about an imagined Jamaat-Shibir infiltration and takeover, weakening the interim government’s support base in the process.
What has not helped this division thus far, and certainly will not going forward, are the social media bubbles each of us live our online lives in and consume virtually all our information from. Along this path we are currently on, the cycle of retribution and violence will only continue for decades to come.
The long path to healing and unity
Chief Adviser Muhammad Yunus claimed in his recent speeches in New York that the whole nation stands united behind him to rebuild it together. While inspiring the dignitaries abroad, it rang hollow and naive back home.
The path to healing these deep societal wounds is neither straightforward nor easy. We must not forget that a major swathe of our political history can be explained as remnants of unprocessed and unhealed trauma, and divisive identity politics that metastasized on it.
For only one example, consider Hasina’s lack of empathy for her own countrymen, which many claim is attributable to the dearth of visible protests when her entire family was murdered brutally in 1975, and how it fed the pro- vs anti-AL (read muktijuddher chetona) narrative. Against that morbid backdrop, Dr Yunus’s government has so far shown a surprising dearth of wisdom and foresight in dealing with these societal divisions and traumas.
The piecemeal and disorganized way in which the past regime’s vanguards and supporters have been arrested, while many key perpetrators still remain unaccounted for or continuing in their old positions, seems to demonstrate a poor grasp of what it would take to achieve justice for July.
While the killed and maimed victims are now largely accounted for, many of them are already out on the streets protesting the lack of empathy and support extended to them. There seems to be no acknowledgement of the generational trauma that remains an open festering wound all across society.
And when Muhammd Yunus publicly characterizes this as a well-orchestrated movement with a handful of “masterminds,” it dishonours the mass participation in the revolution, alienates the broader population and various student and activist groups who put their lives on the line for this freedom, and lends fuel to the “we were played by Jamaat” narrative.
Lessons from around the world
Thankfully, we are not unique in these realities we find ourselves in, and history provides us with valuable lessons and models that we can adapt to our context. To bring the Awami regime leaders to justice for July and the past 15 years, we can look at the Trial of the Juntas in Argentina, which tried the past four regime’s military dictators for very similar crimes as we saw in Bangladesh.
Another worthwhile case study is Rwanda’s three-tiered approach to justice and reconciliation in the aftermath of the genocide where millions of neighbours and family members hacked each other to death. In Rwanda, international tribunals tried the political masterminds behind the genocide, while national courts managed the next level of crimes such as planning and rape, and finally a traditional “Gacaca” court mechanism, through locally elected judges, processed 1.2 million cases and provided a path for ordinary perpetrators to confess their crimes and get rehabilitated in society, while allowing victims to learn the truth, share their pain, and find closure.
To heal persistent divisions within society, we can take cues from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) in South Africa during the post-apartheid era, which provided a platform for victims to voice their experiences and for perpetrators to acknowledge their crimes, and played a crucial role in preventing a cycle of retribution and laying the groundwork for a more unified country.
Beyond judicial mechanisms, and thinking specifically of Gen Z, we can even adapt quiz-based games such as Tango which have been proven through rigorous studies to reverse 20-years worth of partisan divisions in the US.
A united Bangladesh
If we are to move forward as a united Bangladeshi people, we must not only bring the criminals to justice, but also create safe spaces for open, honest conversations about the past 15 years, and perhaps even reckon with the truth of the entire 53 years since our independence.
This should include diverse voices from across the political spectrum (including dissenting voices within the Awami League, such as Sohel Taj), civil society and the common citizenry, and marginalized communities like religious minorities and Adibashis.
It must include the acknowledgement and atonement of a huge portion of the population who were complicit in various periods of fascist repression, if not actively then through their very silence. This could include other forms of expression, like films, documentaries, cartoons, art, and music, to express the collective trauma and find a path towards healing.
We could even turn Gonobhobon into not just a symbol of the July uprising but a more holistic “Autocracy Museum,” similar to the Kigali Genocide Memorial in Rwanda, bringing to light the complex factors that led to the suffocating autocracy of the Hasina regime, documenting the people’s history of key events, and forcing each of us to confront our own complicity.
Like the people of Argentina after the military dictatorships, who forcefully said “Nunca Mas” (Never again!), we must unite in our will to prevent any form of fascism -- secular or religious, military or democratic, communist or capitalist -- to return in any form.
The road ahead is long and fraught with challenges. It will require immense patience, empathy, and wisdom from all sections of society. We must resist the temptation of quick fixes and mob justice, focusing instead on building a sustainable foundation for a truly democratic, inclusive, united, and just Bangladesh.
The mantle for leading us towards that reunification lies with Professor Yunus. The question is: Is he up to it?
Rubayat Khan is a political analyst, a co-founder of Jagoree (a political activism platform), and a sub-editor at Muktipotro. He can be reached at [email protected].
