I have often wondered whether we Bangladeshis have ever been completely satisfied with the names our politicians were actually given. It appears “No,” at least not with our current Prime Minister’s name.
We have a somewhat irresistible national habit of twisting political names according to our own judgement. A politician may have a perfectly respectable name on his birth certificate, passport, ballot paper including all official documents, but the public here has an invisible right to give him another — usually shorter, more colourful and unrelated to what the politician’s parents had intended.
Here we arrive at the curious case of our Prime Minister, Tarique Rahman. That is the name under which he has taken oath to the country’s most important public office. It is the name used by the government. And it is the name which appears in official records.
Yet, for a significant number of Bangladeshis, he remains Tarique Zia.
It is as if the nation has collectively decided that his official surname requires a footnote.
I have often tried to imagine what may go through the Prime Minister’s mind if someone introduces him as “Tarique Zia” at a public or private meeting. I assume his answer would be - “Excuse me, did I just spend a lifetime becoming Tarique Rahman only for the country to promote my father’s surname over my own?”
Perhaps he will smile politely. Perhaps he may think, “Never mind. At least they haven’t called me ‘Tarique Bhai’ in an official cabinet meeting.”
Yet the persistence of “Tarique Zia” is easily understandable. He is the eldest son of the late President Ziaur Rahman and former Prime Minister Khaleda Zia. The Zia name is not merely a family name in Bangladesh. It is a political brand, a historical reference and, depending on whom one asks, a badge of admiration, criticism or inherited political identity. But there is an important distinction between family heritage and personal identity.
Ziaur Rahman was Ziaur Rahman. Khaleda Zia is Khaleda Zia. Tarique Rahman is Tarique Rahman. That ought not to be terribly complicated to comprehend. Yet, a lion’s share of our people has never allowed political nomenclature to remain uncomplicated.
Let us give the Prime Minister one small luxury. Let Tarique Rahman be Tarique Rahman. His father has his history. His mother has hers. The family has its legacy. And the Prime Minister, surely, is entitled to his own name
We are a country where political leaders acquire unofficial titles with astonishing speed. A politician can enter public life with one name and, before long, acquire a nickname, a family label, a geographical tag, a party identity and perhaps even a title invented by the tea-stall committee of public opinion. But there is a slightly ironic twist in the case of Tarique Rahman. For years, the “Zia” attached to his name has arguably been more prominent in popular usage than the “Rahman” he actually carries. That said – I vividly recall many within the BNP itself, promoted Tarique Rahman with the jingle (Tarek Zia Arek Zia, meaning Tarek Zia is another Zia) during Khaleda Zia’s last stint as the Prime Minister from 2001 -2006. Our political vocabulary is wonderfully democratic in that sense. The people muscularly reserve the right to rename everybody.
The irony becomes sharper now that he occupies the country’s highest elected political office. After all these years, perhaps the simplest thing to do is to allow the man to keep the name he brought with him into the Prime Minister’s Office.
After all, if the Constitution, the government and the Prime Minister himself can agree on his name, surely the citizens of Bangladesh can negotiate a ‘temporary ceasefire’ with their own imagination. I suspect, however, that this may be asking too much. There is something genetically Bangladeshi about attaching a famous family name to someone until the attachment becomes almost inseparable. We do not merely remember political dynasties; we linguistically carry them around. But perhaps there is another way of looking at it.
Calling him “Tarique Zia” may be intended by some as a reminder of his lineage. Yet it can also unintentionally reduce a grown political figure to his parentage. A man who has spent decades in politics becomes, linguistically, somebody’s son before he becomes himself.
Tarique Rahman has inherited a political surname that carries enormous historical weight. He cannot, and probably does not wish to, erase that inheritance, nor should he. Family history is part of political history. But inheritance is not identity.
I therefore propose a modest national experiment. For the next few years, whenever we see him on television, let us try saying “Tarique Rahman”. Just to see what happens.
If the tongue feels strangely unfamiliar, persist. If somebody says, “You mean Tarique Zia?” calmly reply: “No, no. That was the unofficial remix.”
Because perhaps the most amusing thing about our political culture is that we frequently argue over names as if they are constitutional amendments.
We rename roads, institutions, leaders and historical narratives with remarkable enthusiasm. The only people who appear to have no say in the matter are sometimes the people actually carrying the names.
So let us give the Prime Minister one small luxury. Let Tarique Rahman be Tarique Rahman. His father has his history. His mother has hers. The family has its legacy. And the Prime Minister, surely, is entitled to his own name. As Shakespeare famously quoted, “What’s in a name?” The answer in Bangladesh is apparently, quite a lot, sometimes, an entire political dynasty. And if that still doesn’t settle the matter, we can always form a committee to decide whether to call him Tarique Rahman or Tarique Zia — preferably before the next election.
* The writer is Senior Assistant Editor for The Daily Observer
* The views expressed here are the author's own