Who are those who want to destroy Hadi's trust in democracy?

Even before Osman Hadi’s death, after he was shot, some activists of the Awami League who had fled the country were seen expressing jubilation on social media. I suspect there are many more Awami League supporters who, even if they did not post Facebook statuses, felt happy about Hadi being shot and about his death. Beyond this, what followed was unprecedented. In the recent past, has there been an instance where the death of a single person caused an entire nation to break down in grief? To pray? Why did this happen?

Even those who did not know Osman Hadi before he was shot came to know him through his speeches delivered on the streets, and through what was said about him in the mainstream and on social media. Many surely disagreed with Osman Hadi’s ideas and worldview. Many disagreed with his language and manner of expression. But even those who disagreed felt this: Hadi was genuine. He was honest, courageous, and patriotic. And like such people often are, he was also quite imprudent. Otherwise, despite repeatedly receiving death threats—and even speaking about those threats publicly—why would he fail to be cautious and plunge into election campaigning, disregarding the dangers?

After the fall of Sheikh Hasina, the much-discussed “new order” in politics was meant to be more than mere political rhetoric—it was meant to take concrete form. Osman Hadi demonstrated what that could look like in practice. He declared his candidacy as an independent candidate in a Dhaka constituency. He appealed to the public for financial contributions to cover his campaign expenses and regularly made those accounts public. He campaigned by eating and sharing simple fare—muri and batasha.
Every day, after offering the Fajr prayer at a mosque in his constituency, he went directly to the people, engaging in grassroots outreach. For days on end he did not return home; he could not even see his infant daughter.

While working, he stayed together with his comrades, slept alongside them. Like a child of a marginalised family, he kept striving to carve out a place for himself in politics, relying on his honesty and work ethic. Perhaps this kind of new political order—in candidacy and in campaigning—is what the people of this country had been hoping to see.

Before Sheikh Hasina’s fall, many knew Osman Hadi as a poet. After Hadi was shot, a number of his poems found many new readers, who discovered that they, too, carried a powerful expression of defiance. During the mass uprising, he was not among the most familiar or prominent faces. He became widely known mainly in the period after 5 August. At that time, videos surfaced showing him on the ground during the uprising, as well as his involvement in various activities in its aftermath. In some instances—such as alleged efforts to mobilise mobs—he was criticised; but Hadi quickly moved away from that path and instead became engaged in electoral activities.

Osman Hadi had a politics of his own and rightly understood that no political ideology can be imposed by brute force. To establish a political ideology, what is needed is a political-cultural narrative. That is why he founded the Inqilab Cultural Centre. In addition to a rich library, the centre hosted reading circles, where he sought to include not only those who shared his own ideology but also people of differing viewpoints. Although this writer has major differences with Hadi’s political ideology, he too was invited to facilitate a reading circle.

Centered on Hadi’s death, there have been attacks in his name on Prothom Alo and The Daily Star—acts that are, in essence, grave terrorist activities and manifestations of fascist tendencies. Earlier, Hadi had not supported the incident of forming a mob in front of Prothom Alo’s office either. In a statement, he said clearly: “Did we stand in support of those who stood in front of Prothom Alo? We say no. If you can, create ten more alternatives to Prothom Alo. What business do you have standing in front of its office? That is what we said.”

Hadi’s soul would surely be pained to see the attack on Prothom Alo’s office on Thursday night. For Hadi believed in, and placed his trust in, democratic methods—where narratives and ideologies are confronted by narratives and ideologies themselves. Hadi would also have been distressed because, like him, Prothom Alo stood courageously with the people during the mass uprising. On the days when there was no internet, and when electronic media were under intense pressure, it was the print edition of Prothom Alo that informed the people of the country just how far Sheikh Hasina’s brutality had gone. Such reporting added fuel to the fire of popular defiance.

After Osman Hadi was shot, I wrote a column in Prothom Alo about how the fruits of Tunisia’s uprising began to be squandered following two political assassinations. Hadi’s death has created a similar risk in our country as well. I hope we will restrain ourselves very soon.

After the final verdict to build the Ram Temple on the site of the Babri Mosque, Hindu nationalists in India wanted Muslims across the country to be drawn into a riot, which would have had a highly positive impact on their electoral results. But at that time, Muslim leaders’ calls for restraint thwarted the Hindu nationalists’ plans. The planned killing of Osman Hadi is surely part of a domestic and foreign conspiracy to destabilise Bangladesh and derail the elections.

Our responsibility is to remain calm and restrained and to foil this conspiracy. Based on how we knew Hadi, it can be said that his soul would surely want the same. For we saw that, no matter what he did in the days immediately after 5 August, he ultimately came to realise—and proved by joining the electoral journey—that for a state’s stability and democratic transition, a free and acceptable election is paramount.

● Zahed Ur Rahman is a teacher and political analyst
The opinions expressed are the author’s own.