The youth went to war — they took to the streets in ’69, and to the battlefield in 1971. But what happened afterwards? Has that war really ended?
The war, in essence, was meant to abolish class exploitation and disparity. National liberation was necessary precisely because liberation was needed for all classes of people. But the struggle for class emancipation remained incomplete in 1971. Instead, the opposite transpired: inequality deepened. A telling example of this lies in the education sector.
Much has been said about “reforms” in education, yet the revolutionary promise that shone bright in the call for change — the implementation of a unified system of education in the mother tongue — was never fulfilled. Instead, the tripartite division in education — general, English-medium, and madrasa — that existed in a somewhat muted form during the Pakistan era has become far more entrenched and expanded in Bangladesh. These three streams were built on the foundations of class division, and their strengthening signified that a revolution had not occurred — indeed, a counter-revolution had taken place.
Why then did the young freedom fighters not come forward to resist this counter-revolution and strive for a socialist transformation? A small but significant symbol of the rise and fall of revolutionary consciousness can be seen in the naming of the Swadhin Bangla Betar Kendra in Chattogram at the onset of the war. Initially named Swadhin Bangla Biplobi Betar Kendra the word "Biplobi" (revolutionary) was soon dropped. The gap between the dream of revolution and its reality became evident — not during the war, but in the aftermath.
The core reason behind the revolution’s failure lay within the victory of ’71 itself. The victory had come in the form of the Pakistani army’s surrender — and with it, two roads diverged before the victors: one, to follow in the footsteps of the Pakistani nationalists — looting and appropriating as they had done; the other, to walk an opposite path — to deepen the meaning of liberation by reshaping the state and society in a socialist direction.
The first task, defeating the enemy, had not been difficult for the youth. The second — constructing a just society — was far more complex. And those who had led the young fighters often leaned toward the former route. Consequently, their followers, too, became enthusiastic about appropriation and control. The nationalists saw themselves as the rightful owners of the victory, and hence believed they were entitled to use the state as they pleased — and that is exactly what they did.
The path to socialism was a difficult one. State power rested with the nationalists. They continued to speak of socialism, but it was Sheikh Mujib’s notion of a localised, “home-grown” socialism they believed in — not scientific socialism. Many of them were, in truth, opposed to it. Moreover, the socialists themselves were divided, and some were even confused. Those among them who had taken up arms against the occupation forces lacked an organised military wing and had no reliable access to weapons. Nevertheless, it was the socialists who had fought the war from within the country, while most nationalist leaders — certainly the top ones — had gone across the border. Some initially went as refugees, later joining the Muktibahini. The leadership, however, remained in Kolkata and Agartala.
Young socialists — particularly those aligned with China or the Soviet Union — were barred from joining the Mukti Bahini. Pro-China youths were later targeted by propaganda, falsely accused of not participating in the war or even collaborating with the Pakistanis. It was the nationalists who led this smear campaign, though the Moscow-leaning left was not far behind. Sheikh Mujib himself spoke of "Bangladeshi socialism" — and within the Chhatra League, those who supported socialism were rarely allowed to go beyond the party’s sanctioned line. There was little knowledge or enthusiasm among them for building scientific socialism through class struggle.
After the war, the students who had been part of the movement seemed to vanish. Why? Because the nationalists who now held state power believed the struggle had ended — that the prize had been won. So what was left to fight for? Against whom? To them, the task now was to assist the government in developing the country. For the pro-Awami League factions within the Chhatra Sangram Parishad, this meant fading into quiet inactivity. Some of them did remain active — but primarily in matters of occupation and appropriation.
It’s important to recall that the Chhatra Sangram Parishad was an all-party alliance. Considerable effort was needed to bring the Chhatra League into the fold, as they had little interest in going beyond the Six Points. They were not enthusiastic supporters of the anti-imperialist and anti-capitalist Eleven-Point Programme. They also strongly favoured single-party leadership — a hallmark of nationalist politics. In contrast, the Parishad was formed on the principle of collective leadership, much like the Rastrabhasha Sangram Parishad of 1952. In his historic 7 March speech, Sheikh Mujib called for forming Sangram Parishads in every neighbourhood — but always under the leadership of the Awami League.
The Liberation War was a people’s war. It required a united national liberation front. Leaders like Maulana Bhashani and several leftist parties had called for such unity. But it never materialised. Leadership remained in the hands of the absent Awami League elite, themselves lacking unity — a division tragically evident in the 15 August assassination of Bangabandhu and his family.
During the war, the Mujibnagar Government had declared three state goals — democracy, secularism, and socialism. Bengali nationalism was assumed, as the war itself was being fought on that premise. However, once independence was achieved, “nationalism” suddenly emerged as an official state principle. It was later enshrined as the first of four state principles in the Constitution.
Why was this so? After all, through the war, the Bengali people had already asserted themselves as a nation. Why, then, reintroduce nationalism?
The reason likely lies in the new rulers’ realisation that flying the banner of national identity would keep the more uncomfortable truth of class identity in the shadows. Under this banner, it could be said: “We are all Bengalis, we are all equal — there is no need for any other identity.”
But the reality was different. Class identity hadn’t disappeared. The 3 million martyrs and the 300,000 women who were assaulted during the war — were their families truly equal to the wealthy and the powerful? Or did the post-independence period only deepen inequalities for them and for the working masses?
People went to war to reduce inequality, to establish equity in rights and opportunities, and to decentralise power democratically. The solution to the class problem was what made resolving the national question necessary. And that required dismantling the Pakistani colonial state structure, which had preserved and promoted inequality.
The author is an Emeritus Professor at the University of Dhaka.
