JULY UPRISING: Justification, failure and possibility

by Rakibul Hasan Khan

SALMAN Rushdie’s famous novel ‘Midnight’s Children’ contains an epigrammatic expression: ‘we are the nation of forgetters.’ While this statement applies to the entire Indian subcontinent, it is perhaps most relevant to the people of Bangladesh. We forget so easily and effortlessly that we even forget the act of forgetting itself. Some mockingly compare our short-term memory to that of goldfish in an aquarium, who forget everything by the time they swim from one end to the other. For them, every lap is a new experience, every circle a thrilling discovery.

Yet, there is a fundamental difference between goldfish and our forgetful lives. While they forget the past, their forward journey is motivated by the promise of newness. We, however, remain haunted by the fear of history repeating itself, and experience teaches us that such repetitions are often more brutal than before. Hence is the popular saying ‘The days that pass are good; the days to come are worse.’ In the aftermath of the July Movement, it is not uncommon to hear quiet reflections suggesting that life, despite its challenges, may have felt more certain before. What began as gentle murmurs of uncertainty has, for some, found more open expression, not as a rejection of the movement, but as a response to the difficulties that followed.

In that sense, we are not truly a nation of forgetters. We are forced to relegate the past to the back of our collective memory to make room for newer and more urgent tragedies. Suppose five people are shot dead today, we mourn them. The next day, fifteen more die. The memory of the first five fades in comparison. Like waves crashing on a shore, one tragedy after another engulfs our lives, leaving us no choice but to forget. The peacefulness and reflection needed to process memories are luxuries we cannot afford. So, amid the daily struggle for survival, some sigh and mutter, ‘we were better off before.’

But were we truly better off before? Or are the crises tormenting us now entirely new? We lack the time for such comparative analysis, or the mental equilibrium for deep reflection. Had we the chance to pause, to travel back to that turbulent July, when unbearable, death-filled days gave way to nights of deeper dread, when the daily procession of corpses outnumbered the previous day’s toll and became headlines in national and international media, when state terror cloaked the land in the rigid shroud of curfews, perhaps no doubt would remain in our minds about the justification of the July Movement.

On this solemn first anniversary of that miraculous July, a time when every effort and conspiracy to discredit the uprising is in full swing, we must first affirm one thing: the July Movement was not unjust. Its aftermath, the failure to harness its potential, or the current state of the country post-uprising can indeed be called failures, they must be called failures, but to question the legitimacy of the rage that drove people to the streets before August 5, the courage that made them stand before guns, the fury that surged like a tsunami is deeply malicious.

Such malice existed during the July Movement and persists today, attempts to obscure the movement’s core purpose and causality and to reduce it to conspiracy theories. Yes, narrative has played a decisive role in shaping the movement’s legitimacy. In this age of unfettered information technology, narratives wield such power that objective truth seems obsolete; everything is dictated by storytelling. Michel Foucault noted long ago: controlling narratives means controlling power. Not just direct power, narratives reshape ideologies, perspectives and historical consciousness. From the outset, the ousted fascist force, the Awami League, has tried to do just that. Instead of introspection or remorse, they have crafted new narratives, painting the uprising as a coup orchestrated by foreign and domestic conspirators, deploying their vast global network to undermine its legitimacy.

Those whose hands are still stained with blood, whose arrogance, cruelty and shameless grip on power claimed over a thousand lives in less than a month and injured countless more, now spread tales that the entire movement was staged, a plot by local and foreign forces to topple them. Yes, foreign and domestic forces, Islamists, rightists, leftists, centrists, and opportunists all joined the movement, each with their own motives. But what began as a student movement became a full-fledged mass uprising when the general public — labourers, rickshaw pullers, teachers, professionals, homemakers — people from all walks of life, joined. The spontaneous and active support of expatriates made the movement’s triumph inevitable, to the point where even the military, a pillar of the government’s strength, sided with the people in last days, averting further bloodshed and culminating in Sheikh Hasina’s flight to India.

Regardless of the alleged ‘meticulous design’ or the role of a foreign ‘deep state,’ the Awami League itself bears much ‘credit’ for galvanising the movement into a full-blown uprising. Years of exploitation, deprivation and repression — the looting syndicate of business elites, bureaucrats and top leaders — had made public fury inevitable. The farce of so-called development and growth, reflected in stark income inequality, the normalisation of graft in local and foreign media, the subversion of judiciary and administration into partisan tools — all made July the perfect catalyst for outrage. But the Awami League’s brutal crackdown and its reckless cruelty accelerated its own downfall. Their collapse was inevitable, but the manner in which they hastened it left their leadership no choice but to flee. In doing so, they have jeopardised their very existence in Bangladeshi politics.

Thus, the July Uprising must not be seen merely as a reaction to the oppression of July-August but as the eruption of a decade-long buildup of misrule, corruption, looting, enforced disappearances, extrajudicial killings and systemic oppression. Various political factions and foreign actors had long sought to exploit this anger to overthrow the government — each pursuing their own interests, as is natural when democratic avenues were blocked by the Awami League. The leadership’s overconfidence and disconnect from the people, coupled with repressive measures, created the opening in July. Opposition parties seized it without hesitation.

But it is also crucial to remember that the movement’s success depended on its non-political disguise. Had it been branded under a political party, as past failed attempts were, it might not have garnered such mass support. This reflects public distrust in political parties. While parties participated, they cannot claim the credit, for people supported the movement for its apparently non-political disposition, many fearing a return to old ways in the post-Awami League time. Thus, when the quota reform movement morphed into an anti-discrimination uprising, people harboured the hope for a new political order or structural reform.

While the July Movement’s legitimacy is unquestionable, its fruits remain uncertain, especially given the fading hopes for a humane, just and equitable society, envisioned as the antithesis of Awami League’s misrule. The primary reason is the post-uprising scramble among political factions to serve their own interests, replicating the very privileges the Awami League and its associates once enjoyed. From market leases to sand mining and rock extraction, from bureaucratic appointments to university control, the same old games persist. Many even fear that whoever wins the next election will perpetuate Awami-style tyranny.

Another alarming trend is the rise of religious hardliners, who are fiercely conservative and authoritarian on individual freedoms, free speech and women’s rights. While obsessed with imposing religious dogma, they remain indifferent to education, healthcare and class inequality. Yet, their rise is also the Awami League’s legacy — its anti-politics, democratic vacuum and structural inequities.

True democracy, tolerable inequality and religious freedom curb extremism, so does equitable and quality education, but the Awami League, neglecting these, pushed many towards fundamentalism. As Edward Said noted in ‘Culture and Imperialism’, oppressed societies are most vulnerable to radicalism. Economic disparity, state repression and educational deprivation fuel this fire. Yet, blaming the Awami League alone is insufficient. All political parties, whether Islamist or secular, exploit religion for gain, deepening societal fractures, endangering minorities and reviving unresolved tensions from 1971.

During the tenure of the current interim government, we have witnessed how attacks on the Liberation War of 1971 and its associated icons have occurred due to the government’s indifference, patronage or direct support. Meanwhile, among certain opportunistic and right-wing factions, there is a noticeable tendency to glorify the July Movement while undermining the spirit of 1971. This is not to say that questions cannot be raised about the Bengali nationalist or cultural hegemonic politics stemming from the manipulation of the so-called spirit of the Liberation War. This politics certainly requires discussion, review and analysis, especially regarding how the Awami League has exploited 71 for its partisan political gains, using it to legitimise its misrule. At the same time, we must remember that the July uprising was a form of class struggle against authoritarian rule, not a war against our history — the very history that forms the foundation of our national identity. Therefore, the post-uprising tendency to diminish the significance of the Liberation War has weakened national unity, for it was through the struggle of independence that our nation emerged and evolved. When 1971 is attacked, the foundation of our unity shakes. And it was precisely this history of the liberation war that inspired and united people during the July uprising.

Thus, many who actively participated in or supported the July Movement have found themselves grappling with doubt and discomfort as symbolic references to 1971 appear to come under strain. Reports of government-endorsed alterations to historic sites such as Dhanmondi 32 and other landmarks have deeply unsettled some. Ironically, these actions ultimately benefit the Awami League, for they have monopolised the liberation war narrative to serve their political interests while branding all others as anti-liberation forces. Any attack or disrespect towards 1971 in their absence only strengthens their claims. 

However, even more consequential than the devaluation of the liberation war or the rise of right-wing forces is the post-uprising government’s failure to establish the rule of law. Since August 5, the country has descended into chaos and disorder, including mob attacks on individuals and institutions, assaults on religious and ethnic minorities, and the suppression of dissent through the same fascist tactics. This has turned the July Movement’s success into failure.

The interim government and its key allies bear responsibility for this volatile and lawless situation, as does the ousted Awami League’s relentless conspiracies and subversive activities. That they would conspire or attempt to discredit the uprising is hardly surprising, for as Bangladesh grows increasingly unstable, the moral foundation of the July Movement weakens. The Awami League, facing an existential crisis, sees this as an opportunity to propagate its narrative domestically and internationally, that the July Movement was merely a regime-change conspiracy pushing the country towards failed-state status. This allows them to obscure their long misrule and the killings during the uprising without any introspection. It is also true that many have already forgotten the context of the July Movement amid the current instability. The more the country collapses, the easier it becomes for the Awami League to return. But their return will not be as a reformed or transformed entity, they are not on that path. If they do return, it will probably usher in another chapter of vengeance.

Like the House of Atreus in Greek mythology, we seem to be trapped in an endless cycle of generational vengeance, with conflict, bloodshed and death recurring unendingly. Breaking this cycle would have required national reconciliation in the post-uprising period, but those controlling power now believe the Awami League must be annihilated, treating any proposal for dialogue as an attempt to rehabilitate them. This destructive mindset blocks the path to lasting peace and stability.

Even ordinary Awami League supporters and their families have reportedly faced legal and extrajudicial actions, often without recourse. Those who speak out risk being labelled collaborators or face personal attacks. Some are asked, ‘Where were you for the past fifteen years?’ — overlooking that many stayed silent precisely because they could not speak freely. The July Movement called for that freedom. If open expression is still denied, even for those who support the ruling party, the movement’s goals remain unmet. Lasting change cannot come through hostility alone; only principled governance and a commitment to justice can counter misrule and reclaim the public narrative.

Dr Rakibul Hasan Khan is a Bangladeshi academic and poet based in New Zealand, where he works at the University of Otago as an instructional designer.