In the chronicles of history, the saga of Awami League’s recent tumble from the heights of power to the depths of ignominy might one day be taught as a masterclass in denial. It is a tale where the hero refuses to see their flaws, the antagonist is an amorphous "third party," and the innocent bystanders -- the people -- pay the price.
The conspiracy theory chronicles
The Awami League’s steadfast refusal to accept responsibility for its actions is sprawling, convoluted, and has too many characters to keep track of. Every tragic “hero” needs a scapegoat, and the Awami League has found its villain in a “planned conspiracy.” Foreign forces, secret agents, shadowy organizations, and the omnipresent ISI have all been implicated.
Their favorite line? Blame the third party.
Awami League’s leadership are turning the interrogation lamp on everyone but themselves. “Who fired the shots that killed 850 citizens?” they ask, wagging their fingers at phantoms. Meanwhile, the proverbial smoking gun, complete with party insignia, sits untouched on their desk.
In their quest to avoid accountability, the Awami League has set a new world record in mental gymnastics. “It’s not us,” they cry, “it’s the other us who infiltrated us disguised as us!”
‘Mistakes were made’
Even when they vaguely acknowledge wrongdoing, Awami League leaders carefully craft their statements as if auditioning for a political drama. “It is a truth universally acknowledged,” they might say, “that a ruling party in possession of absolute power must occasionally make some mistakes.”
Mistakes? A humanitarian crisis that left 850 dead and 20,000 injured is a “mistake?”
Their favorite strategy is a masterstroke of passive voice. “Weapons were fired,” they say, conveniently omitting the subject of the sentence. Who fired them? Surely not the party whose gun-toting cadres were captured on video aiming at students.
“To apologize or not to apologize?” -- that is the question
Political analysts, grassroots leaders, and even the faintest voices of conscience within the Awami League have hinted at an obvious solution: Apologize. But the party’s leadership seems to be thinking that it can wait.
Their reluctance to say the magic words, “We were wrong,” stems from a fear that admitting guilt might dissolve their political existence. But if anything, letting go can be liberating. Alas, the Awami League’s ice palace is built on denial, and no amount of “letting go” can thaw their frosty hearts.
Their voices are drowned out by the cacophony of grand speeches broadcast from safe havens abroad. As one grassroots leader aptly put it, ‘We bleed, they preach’
The grassroots lament
The grassroots leaders and activists, meanwhile, are living their own nightmare. “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times,” they lament. “It was the best of times for our leaders in exile; it was the worst of times for us dodging bullets back home.”
For these “unsung soldiers,” the party’s refusal to apologize is not just a moral failing but a tactical error. They know that the people -- those same people who stood against them in the streets -- are unlikely to forgive without an admission of guilt.
Yet, their voices are drowned out by the cacophony of grand speeches broadcast from safe havens abroad. As one grassroots leader aptly put it, “We bleed, they preach.”
The waiting game
And so, the Awami League waits. They wait for the interim government to stumble, for the people’s discontent to swell, for history to grant them absolution without the need for penance.
A humorous prognosis
If the Awami League persists in its current strategy, it risks becoming a political relic -- a cautionary tale for future generations. Imagine a dystopian future where political science students study their downfall as part of a module titled The Art of Losing Without Saying Sorry.
The chapter on the Awami League might begin:
“Once upon a time, there was a party so arrogant that it mistook stubbornness for strength and denial for resilience. And thus, it fell.”
But all hope is not lost. The Awami League still has the chance to transform this Shakespearean tragedy into a redemption arc worthy of a Pixar film.
All they need to do is own up to their mistakes, apologize to the people, and prove that they are more than just another arrogant, power-hungry political machine.
Until then, we, the audience, will continue to watch this political farce unfold, popcorn in hand, wondering whether the party will ever master the simplest act of leadership: saying, “We’re sorry.”
HM Nazmul Alam, Lecturer, Department of English and Modern Languages, International University of Business, Agriculture and Technology. He can be reached at [email protected]
