Pushp Saraf
pushapsaraf@yahoo.com
In Bangladesh’s dramatically altered political landscape, there is growing evidence of attempts to dilute the spirit of the country’s 1971 Liberation War and undermine the legacy of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the Father of the Nation. A striking example emerged on March 12, when the 13th Jatiya Sangsad (Parliament), on the opening day of its first session, adopted a condolence resolution that unexpectedly included the names of individuals convicted and executed for war crimes committed during the Liberation War. What might otherwise have been a routine parliamentary formality quickly escalated into a flashpoint of political and historical contention.
Parliamentary condolence resolutions are typically reserved for honouring notable public figures and recognising their contributions to national or global life. This unanimously adopted resolution included prominent personalities such as former Indian Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, former Bangladeshi Prime Minister Khaleda Zia, as well as Ayatollah Ali Khomeini and Pope Francis.
It would likely have remained uncontroversial but for the inclusion of convicted war criminals. The ruling Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) became complicit, going so far as to initially propose the inclusion of Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami (BJI) leaders who had been convicted by the International Crimes Tribunal (ICT) for war crimes and subsequently executed. The BJI-a party that opposed Bangladesh’s independence and aligned with Pakistan in 1971-further expanded the list by adding more of its former leaders who had also received the death penalty.
Among those included in the condolence resolution were former Jamaat chiefs Matiur Rahman Nizami and Ali Ahsan Mohammad Mujahid, along with Muhammad Kamaruzzaman, Abdul Quader Mollah, Mir Quasem Ali, and Delawar Hossain Sayeedi. Also named was Salahuddin Quader Chowdhury of the BNP, who had likewise been convicted and executed. All were tried by the ICT between 2013 and 2016 during Sheikh Hasina’s tenure. Their executions were widely portrayed by her Awami League (AL) government as long-delayed justice for victims of atrocities committed in collaboration with the Pakistan Army in 1971.
When their inclusion was proposed, the amendment was accepted without opposition within the chamber. The BJI justified its position by criticising the original motion as “unilateral” and calling for a more “neutral and vibrant” parliament going forward.
Blurring moral boundaries
The amendment’s passage triggered immediate and intense debate beyond parliament. For supporters of the Liberation War narrative-long central to Bangladesh’s state identity-the inclusion of convicted war criminals in a condolence resolution represents a troubling attempt to blur established moral boundaries. To them, the move signals a broader effort to reinterpret, or even dilute, the historical understanding of 1971 and the accountability processes that followed.
For many, the parliamentary resolution is not an isolated procedural misstep but part of a broader and more troubling pattern-an effort to gradually reshape Bangladesh’s historical narrative.
This concern was echoed by a group of 41 eminent citizens who issued a strongly worded statement condemning the move. They argued that individuals accused of crimes against humanity have long sought to distort the history of the Liberation War, constructing narratives that dishonour the nation’s founding struggle. “The condolence motion for convicted war criminals in the parliament is completely unacceptable. We express our strongest protest against this insult to the Liberation War”.
The statement debated the issue in moral and existential terms. According to the signatories, honouring those who opposed the country’s birth and were responsible for atrocities constitutes a profound affront to the sacrifices of millions. “This is a deliberate attempt to question the spirit of the Liberation War and the foundation of a secular Bangladesh. We also fear that attempts are underway to erase the memory of 1971 under the guise of political agenda”.
The list of signatories reflected a wide cross-section of Bangladesh’s intellectual and cultural community, including academician Prof Abu Yusuf; poets Nirmalendu Goon, Henry Swapon, Shahed Kayes, Manik Bairagi, Sanjib Purohit, and Rais Mukul; researcher and journalist Enayet Kabir; writer and filmmaker Sahadat Russell; and writer Piyush Kanti Barua. Their collective intervention signaled that the controversy has moved beyond partisan politics into the realm of national conscience and cultural memory.
Underscoring the enduring emotional resonance of the Liberation War among younger generations, student organisations have also been vocal. A faction of the Bangladesh Chhatra Union expressed outrage, criticising the BNP for having “essentially repeated its policy of aligning itself with war criminals.” It described the condolence resolution for “notorious war criminals” as a “betrayal of the three million martyrs of the 1971 Liberation War.” Emphasising that the war remains “the most glorious chapter of the nation’s history,” the group warned that if it is demeaned, “people will give an appropriate response.”
Equally revealing is the broader political context in which the amendment took place. Bangladesh’s current parliament reflects a changed balance of power following the upheaval of August 5, 2024, when Hasina was forced from office amid mass protests and sustained political mobilisation. Her departure brought an end to more than 15 years of uninterrupted AL rule and opened political space for long-marginalised rivals. In this new environment, the AL has been banned, while the legal machinery of the ICT itself has been redirected against Hasina and her party.
Jamaat-e-Islami’s rise
The principal beneficiary of this shift appears to be the BJI. During the years of AL dominance, Jamaat’s political influence had been sharply curtailed, both institutionally and electorally. Recent developments inside parliament, however, suggest that the party is re-emerging as a confident and assertive political force. The relative ease with which it secured the passage of the condolence resolution is indicative not only of its renewed leverage, but also of the shifting priorities-and perhaps the recalibration of historical sensitivities-within Bangladesh’s evolving political establishment.
Indeed, the controversy cannot be viewed in isolation from the broader political developments that followed the fall of Hasina. The mass protests that led to her removal from power were accompanied by widespread attacks on symbols associated with the AL and the legacy of Sheikh Mujib. Across the country, murals and statues of Sheikh Mujib were defaced or destroyed during the unrest. Even his historic residence at Dhanmondi 32 in Dhaka-an iconic site deeply intertwined with Bangladesh’s independence movement-was targeted by vandals. For supporters of the AL, these acts were not merely expressions of political anger, but part of a deeper attempt to erode or dismantle the symbolic foundations of the Liberation War narrative that had been reinforced during Hasina’s tenure.
For now, the restoration of these damaged monuments appears unlikely, with many believing it will have to wait until the AL returns to power. In the evolving political landscape, opposition to Hasina and her legacy has come not only from the BJI but also from newer actors such as the National Citizen Party (NCP). Comprising youth leaders who spearheaded the student-led protests, the NCP has emerged as a vocal critic of Hasina and the political centrality of the Mujib legacy. Its trajectory, however, reflects the volatility of the current moment: internal divisions have surfaced, with some senior leaders departing following its electoral alignment with the BJI.
These developments underscore the fluid and uncertain nature of Bangladesh’s ongoing political transition. New political forces are asserting themselves, and long-standing historical narratives are being openly contested in ways not seen in recent decades. The parliamentary controversy, in this context, is not an isolated episode but a symptom of a deeper struggle over identity, memory, and political legitimacy. It reveals that even the foundational narrative of the Liberation War-once considered beyond dispute-is now subject to reinterpretation and contestation.
What has happened now is a negation of the globally acclaimed 2013 Shahbagh movement, a symbol of secular nationalism, which demanded the death penalty for war criminals and the ban on the BJI. The central question, therefore, is no longer whether the legacy of 1971 will be debated-it already is-but whether it will endure as a unifying moral foundation or fragment under the weight of political expediency.
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