The meaning behind naming the fallen regime fascist

“Fascism sees its salvation in giving these masses an object of worship. The logical consequence of fascism is the introduction of aesthetics into political life. Fascism, in its attempt to make the masses passionate for a political cause, gives them an object of worship in the form of the leader, the nation, or the race. This cult of heroism and violence is designed to create a kind of devotion that removes all critical faculties, leaving only the emotional, instinctual, and irrational aspects of the masses. The masses are thus made passive in the face of political power, stripped of the ability to think critically and engage rationally.”

– Walter Benjamin, 1936

The word ‘fascism’ originated from the Latin word "fascis”, meaning a bundle of wooden rods, usually tied together with an axe. The symbol of the fascis was embraced by Benito Mussolini's fascist movement in Italy in the 1920s, representing the unity and strength of the state.

A fascist regime is typically identified as an authoritarian government characterised by ultranationalism, xenophobia, nativism or ethnocentrism, and the suppression of dissent. It dismantles democratic institutions, glorifies the regime above individual freedoms and civil rights, and relies on propaganda, censorship, and violence as means of governance.

Fascist regimes are mostly dependent on armed forces, aligning with racial or cultural superiority, economic corporatism, and industry with regime interests. Notable examples include Mussolini’s Italy and Hitler’s Nazi Germany, infamous for their oppressive policies and gross human rights violations.

The discussion of what constitutes fascism, what does not, and what we exactly mean by labeling something as fascist has become highly relevant in the context of the July Uprising in Bangladesh (2024) and the subsequent fall of the government. Broadly, there are two narratives regarding the nature of the fallen regime of the Awami League and its allies, led by Sheikh Hasina (2009–2024).

First, the regime has long been identified as a fascist regime by activists, politicians, and public intellectuals. During the July Uprising, the complete fall of the fascist regime became a non-negotiable demand by the protesters.

Second, it has often been described as increasingly authoritarian by critics. The former narrative is rooted in discussions, dialogue, and conversations within the public sphere and the protests.

This perspective encompasses the entire infrastructure of the state, its political culture, and its implications for everyday life. In contrast, the latter narrative is primarily grounded in academia and institutional practices, focusing more narrowly on institutionalised political systems and their processes.

The problem with the second narrative is that it overlooks the inherently authoritarian nature of the state itself. Simply labeling the fallen regime as authoritarian fails to fully capture the intensity of its coercive governance system and the resulting violence and suffering inflicted upon the masses.

While some may be invested in intellectually questioning why the regime is labeled fascist, given the differing political contexts, greater emphasis should be placed on the political consensus, the fluency of such naming in the political sphere, and the meaning behind it. This approach would help determine whether such labeling is merely arbitrary or represents a political expression with deeper significance.

The government of Sheikh Hasina has been characterized by the concentration of power, undermining both civic participation and the legitimacy of the political system through a process of monopolisation.

This concentration has been operationalised through extensive interference with the judiciary, the Election Commission, and other key institutions. In addition to well-documented cases that do not require further substantiation, numerous national and international reports have highlighted the use of baseless legal cases, arbitrary arrests, torture, enforced disappearances, and extrajudicial killings.

Legislation such as the Digital Security Act and the newer Cyber Security Act have been employed to suppress freedom of speech and target critics, including journalists and activists. Opposition figures, activists, and even ordinary citizens have been increasingly targeted under the guise of anti-crime or anti-terrorism operations, creating an environment of political repression that has left religious communities marginalised, thereby limiting their ability to engage in discursive traditions and practice their religious freedoms. Press freedom has been severely curtailed, with independent voices routinely silenced.

A culture of self-censorship has emerged as a collective response to the pervasive climate of fear, with journalists, activists, and critics refraining from expressing dissent due to concerns about retaliation.

Practices such as vote-rigging, voter intimidation, and the systematic suppression of opposition parties have become normalized, resulting in a political system where the masses have been effectively excluded from meaningful participation.

The regime operates without genuine political engagement, relying instead on coercion. Ideally, law should serve to uphold legitimacy through the authority of legitimate institutions. However, in the context of Bangladesh, legal frameworks were used to legitimise the regime’s authority and to reinforce its power.

Corruption has been justified under the pretext of infrastructure development and digitisation, yet this has simultaneously hindered the civic growth of the Bangladeshi populace by dismantling political and intellectual practices that could foster the political prospects towards a political community formation.

The practices of the fallen regime mentioned above represent phenomena commonly experienced by the people of Bangladesh. One does not require extensive scholarly understanding to identify such characteristics of Sheikh Hasina's government.

The massacre, violence, and death toll during the July Uprising are well-documented and widely reported in national and global news media. A simple Google search or query to ChatGPT regarding fascism, its common characteristics such as authoritarianism, extreme nationalism, suppression of dissent, militarism, corporatism, anti-democratic tendencies, the cult of personality, xenophobia, and control over cultural and societal practices, reveals striking resemblances to the practices of the fallen regime.

At first glance, this may appear to be a generalization, ignoring the intensity and nuances of fascism in its root form. While this assessment is valid, it should be seen as an intellectual pursuit aimed at critically engaging with the topic.

Thus, naming the fallen regime "fascist" can be understood as a political act rather than an intellectual or linguistic intervention aimed at analysing its reasonableness or meaning. The most effective way to comprehend the significance of this label is to examine the motivations behind its use by the people.

Moreover, should we engage deeply in examining the ontology and genealogy of the regime’s characteristics, we would likely uncover how the sanctity of identity and ideology has been constructed in an organised manner to shield fascism (under the fallen regime) as a political category devoid of political function.

In this framework, politics ceases to be a process in which the people are the subjects and instead, they are reduced to mere objects, subjected to political control.

Critics argue that Sheikh Hasina's government has long engaged in historical revisionism and dehistoricisation, particularly by promoting a single narrative centered around Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and Mujibism. This is evident in actions ranging from renaming institutions and launching infrastructure projects to revising the education curriculum, which is increasingly devoid of other legacies or historical perspectives, fostering what is often termed a "cult of personality."

Consequently, this narrative has left the populace politically rootless, creating a politically convenient version of Bengali nationalism tied exclusively to Mujibism. A culture of hatred has been perpetuated through the divisive political dichotomy of forces supporting the Liberation War versus opposing forces.

In public and institutional spaces, mere silence has not sufficed; individuals must actively affirm the dominant narrative to participate in so-called mainstream arrangements. Furthermore, dissent has been stifled through surveillance, intimidation, and propaganda.

Hasina’s leadership and the Awami League's governance model are rooted in Mujibism and Bengali nationalism, which have served as ideological foundations for her government’s policies and style. A vast cultural industry has been established to legitimise these tendencies, manufacturing content, meanings, and sentiments around Mujibism and an extreme form of Bengali nationalism.

This narrative is often described as ahistoric to the people of Bangladesh, constructed through the ideological apparatus of the state. It is imperative to investigate further the implications of Mujibism and its intersection with Bengali nationalism in politico-cultural practices.

Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s era (1972–1975) was marked by the shift from parliamentary democracy to a one-party state (BAKSAL). This centralisation of power resonates with Sheikh Hasina’s governance, characterised by increasing consolidation of power within her party while sidelining opposition and dissent.

Hasina often justifies her rule by positioning herself as the torchbearer of Mujibur Rahman’s vision, portraying criticism as anti-national or contrary to the spirit of Bangladesh’s independence.

Drawing inspiration from Mujibism, Hasina’s methods have been more institutionalised and strategic, leveraging modern tools like surveillance laws and global development narratives. Her politics have been profoundly shaped by the trauma of losing her father and much of her family, with vengeance underpinning her approach.

Consequently, she has restructured politics and institutions to transfer the trauma onto dissenters, turning personal insecurities into national insecurities. To root her measures in history, she continues to employ Bengali nationalism as a tool to solidify her base, often portraying her government as the sole defender of Bengali culture, history, and independence, suggesting that Bangladesh would descend into chaos without her party’s leadership.

Mujibur Rahman faced severe criticism for suppressing opposition, which included imprisonment, torture, and murder, under the pretext of protecting the state from "anti-national" forces. Similarly, Sheikh Hasina’s government often justifies its repression of dissent and opposition parties as essential for safeguarding democracy and independence, albeit in direct contradiction to democratic principles.

Bengali nationalism, which claimed to embody the spirit of the 1971 Liberation War, has evolved under Sheikh Hasina’s regime into a more exclusionary ideology used to consolidate power.

Bengali nationalism during Mujib’s era was depicted as cultural unity against the Pakistani state. Under Hasina, however, it has often been used to marginalise political rivals by labeling them unpatriotic or pro-Pakistani. The Awami League frequently portrays itself as the sole custodian of the Liberation War’s legacy.

The 1972 constitution's adoption of secularism (Dhormonirapekkhotabad) ignored the contextual realities, transforming a subconscious societal inclination into a consciously imposed framework, resulting in constitutional alienation.

This intellectual imposition, which portrayed secularism as the primary spirit of Bengali nationalism, has overlooked the origins of Bengali nationalism and the historical role of Islamisation among the Bengali Muslim population. This oversight has exacerbated the cultural alienation of Bengali Muslims from state-sponsored cultural reproductions and institutional mechanisms. In practice, Bengali nationalism under Hasina has prioritised political expediency, marginalising ethnic minorities alongside dissenting political identities and alternative cultural expressions.

Consequently, the populace has been confined within narrow political, historical, and cultural frameworks, and their responses or forms of resistance have been villainized as pro-Pakistani. For instance, Sheikh Hasina labeled protesters as Rajakars during the July Uprising, further intensifying the movement and galvanizing public participation as a reaction to such villainization.

There is merit in engaging with literary discourse to determine when a regime qualifies as fascist. However, another approach, which involves tracing the genealogy of fascism, locating its meaning, and exploring how it has transformed into a political expression among the people might offer a more nuanced understanding of the reasoning behind naming the fallen regime as fascist in the context of the July Uprising.

*The author is a researcher and critic