In Bangladesh, if you foster and manifest the spirit of 1971, you will be considered either a supporter of Awami League or BNP. If you promote Islamic values, you are seen as aligned with Jamaat. If you speak of progress, you are labelled a leftist or, at times, dismissively tagged as “Shahbagi.” But what, then, simply makes one a Bangladeshi?
Bangladesh, a land of natural beauty, cultural diversity, and resilient people, is often portrayed as a symbol of harmony and coexistence. From the outside, it appears to be a nation enriched by multiple cultures, ideologies, and traditions living side by side. Yet beneath this surface lies a political landscape deeply fractured by competing visions, contested histories, and conflicting ideological directions that continue to challenge a shared national identity.
Politically, these divisions run deeper than party allegiance. They reflect fundamental disagreements over national priorities, historical interpretation, and the direction of state and society. While diversity of opinion is natural in any democracy, the absence of a shared set of national aspirations has made unity difficult to sustain. Without common ground, even legitimate differences become sources of fragmentation.
Bangladesh’s history is extraordinary. Born out of immense sacrifice and collective struggle, the Liberation War of 1971 was not the triumph of a single political entity, but of an entire people united by aspirations for justice, dignity, and freedom. In the years that followed, however, the legacy of this shared struggle has increasingly been interpreted through partisan lenses. When history that belongs to all is appropriated by particular political actors for legitimacy, it fragments national memory and weakens cohesion.
Sheikh Mujibur Rahman symbolised national unity during the liberation movement. Yet the political developments of the post-independence period contributed to growing polarisation. Over time, his legacy has been viewed differently across political lines, reflecting broader divisions within society. This illustrates a recurring challenge: when national figures become embedded within partisan narratives, their unifying potential diminishes. It must also be acknowledged that entering the political arena, whether by joining a party, assuming leadership, or holding power, inevitably invites scrutiny and contestation.
A similar pattern can be observed in the political associations surrounding Ziaur Rahman, Hussain Muhammad Ershad, and various ideological positions linked to religion and governance. Political identity in Bangladesh often becomes tied to specific historical figures, parties, or ideological camps. This raises a fundamental question: what represents the shared identity of the nation beyond partisan alignment?
For those who deeply understand the essence of 1971, the uprising of 2024 may be seen as a continuation of that very spirit, re-emerging across generations as a renewed call for justice, dignity, and collective responsibility
Over time, nearly every aspect of national life has been politicised. History, values, institutions, and even collective memory have been drawn into political contestation. Recent developments, including mass mobilisations such as the July uprising and the emergence of new political platforms like the National Citizen’s Party, demonstrate how movements rooted in public demand can quickly enter formal political competition. While such transitions are not unusual in democratic contexts, they often generate debates about neutrality, representation, and the original spirit of collective action.
This recurring pattern, where national struggles and public movements are absorbed into political competition, gradually erodes trust. Events that could unify instead become points of division. When national narratives are claimed by specific actors rather than shared collectively, competing interpretations emerge, weakening cohesion.
The constitutional and ideological trajectory of Bangladesh further reflects this complexity. Amendments over time have often mirrored shifting political priorities, particularly regarding the role of religion, secularism, and governance. While some actors advocate a secular framework, others emphasise religious identity within political life. In practice, however, these positions are not always rigid, and political rhetoric often adapts to context. This fluidity, while politically strategic, has contributed to a lack of clear and consistent national direction.
At times, the nation appears uncertain about its collective direction, navigating between ambiguity and competing complexities rather than a clearly articulated common purpose. A deeper concern lies in the absence of consensus on foundational historical narratives. Few nations remain as divided in their interpretation of their founding struggle as Bangladesh. Such divisions create space for both internal fragmentation and external influence, as a contested identity becomes more vulnerable to manipulation.
Moving forward requires a renewed commitment to shared principles—justice, democracy, equity, and collective dignity. National history must be preserved as a common inheritance, not a partisan resource. Political actors should prioritise inclusive policies and institutional integrity over narrative dominance. At the same time, democratic education must be strengthened to cultivate informed, critical, and engaged citizens capable of evaluating leadership beyond partisan loyalty.
Bangladesh possesses all the foundations necessary for unity, but unity cannot be imposed, it must be cultivated. It emerges from mutual respect, shared responsibility, and a willingness to rise above narrow affiliations. Only by reclaiming a collective sense of identity, one that transcends political labels, can the nation move toward a more cohesive and resilient future, where the spirit of 1971 is not claimed, but truly shared, and the aspirations of 2024 are meaningfully realised. For those who deeply understand the essence of 1971, the uprising of 2024 may be seen as a continuation of that very spirit, re-emerging across generations as a renewed call for justice, dignity, and collective responsibility.
* Md. Yeasir Arafat is a final-year undergraduate student of Department of Political Science, University of Rajshahi. He can be reached at [email protected]
* The views expressed here are the author's own