Deconstructing Jamaat-e-Islami in Bangladesh #Sundayreading


 Alal o Dulal – 26 February 2013

Wali Nasr’s Vanguards of the Islamic Revolution is perhaps the best known book on the party available in English. That book, as well as Jamaat’s own literature—in both Bangladesh and Pakistan—makes it clear that it does not believe in western-style electoral, representative democracy. Nor can it be characterized as a mass political party. At the risk of oversimplification, Jamaat’s internal organization may be described as following some form of “democratic centralism”: the top leadership collectively takes a decision, and through a hierarchy and network of members, cadres, or activists, the party’s decision is carried out. The top leadership is, in turn, chosen from the rank and file through elections and other representative mechanisms.

As in Pakistan, the party’s aim in Bangladesh is to create an Islamic state, where the party is the sole arbiter of what counts as Islamic. The essential question for the party leadership is how it will achieve power.

After the Pakistan Army launched its murderous crackdown in East Pakistan on 25 March 1971, Jamaat threw in its lot behind the generals. Whereas a number of Islam-pasand politicians—including many from various factions of the Muslim League—supported the junta’s quest to maintain a united Pakistan, Jamaat went a step further.

Activists of its student wing, Islami Jamiat-e-Talaba (IJT) / Islami Chhatra Sangha (ICS), volunteered for the pro-Pakistan militias set up by the army. Matiur Rahman Nizami, head of the East Pakistan IJT/ICS, led a particularly fierce group called the Al Badr whose death squads are alleged to have killed several prominent progressive intellectuals and activists during the war. A reading of contemporary newspapers suggests that Jamaat expected that the army would militarily defeat the Mukti Bahini resistance, but would find it hard to fill the political vacuum created by the elimination of the Awami League. Jamaat aspired to fill that vacuum.

Much like the Pakistani generals, Jamaat leaders blame the Indians for the defeat of 1971. They believe that the main reason behind India’s intervention was a fear of a Jamaat-dominated East Pakistan. The lesson they took away from 1971 is that for Jamaat to achieve power in Bangladesh, it must contend with India.

The immediate post-war years were a difficult for Jamaat. Even before Dhaka was liberated on December 16th, the provisional government of Bangladesh banned Jamaat. Some of its leaders, including the provincial chief Ghulam Azam, escaped to Pakistan, the Gulf and the United Kingdom. Others went into hiding. Azam tried to lead a movement to “recover East Pakistan,” which fizzled when Zulfikar Ali Bhutto received Sheikh Mujibur Rahman in Lahore for the 1974 Organization of Islamic Countries (OIC) summit. At the local level, party members abstained from direct political activities, concentrating on social work instead.

Bangladesh politics took several dramatic and tragic turns in 1975. The country’s first leader, Sheikh Mujib, responded to instability by imposing a draconian one-party state, and then was killed by a military coup. Countercoups followed, descending into a larger armed mutiny. By the end of the year, many of the people who politically or militarily led the country’s freedom struggle in 1971 were dead or marginalized, with the exception of Major General Ziaur Rahman, who emerged as the country’s de facto ruler.

Zia gradually reintroduced electoral politics, and a parliament was elected in 1979. The ban on Jamaat, which had begun in 1971, was not, however, formally lifted because the Election Commission was not convinced of the party’s commitment to Bangladesh’s sovereignty. Nonetheless, six of its members were elected to the 300-member assembly under the banner of the Islamic Democratic League. Azam returned to Bangladesh on a Pakistan passport around this time. (His citizenship was revoked by the Bangladesh government in 1973.) The IJT/ICS was also re-launched under the name of Islami Chhatra Shibir. Zia was assassinated in 1981, and Lt. Gen. H.M. Ershad assumed power in 1982. As Ershad moved to legitimize his rule through elections, the ban on the Jamaat was lifted.

From here on, Jamaat’s aim was to achieve political legitimacy first, and capture state power ultimately.

How to do it?

Azam devised a multi-pronged strategy.

First, Jamaat was to become a parliamentary party and contest elections, under its own name if possible, but under other names if needed. But, they would not contest across the country. Rather, they targeted 50 seats bordering India. The idea was to turn these seats into strong Jamaat bastions that could become centers of resistance if India were to “invade again.”

Of course, 50 seats are far short of a majority in a 300-seat parliament. This is where the second strategy comes in. Jamaat would seek alliance and coalition with anyone and everyone depending on the specific circumstance. So, for example, Jamaat and the Awami League (AL) participated in the parliamentary election in 1986, breaking a promise to boycott it because it was held under martial law. The election helped give constitutional cover to the Ershad’s military regime. But in 1990, Jamaat again joined the AL along with its rival, the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP), and the leftists in an urban uprising that toppled the Ershad government. In 1991, the BNP formed a government with Jamaat’s support. By the mid-1990s, Jamaat had once again allied with the AL in a series of street protests against the BNP government.

By 2001 however, Jamaat had entered into an electoral alliance with the BNP for the upcoming election. This alliance seems to have held through electoral triumphs (2001, when BNP won 197 and Jamaat 17 seats) and disasters (2008, BNP 32, Jamaat 2). During the quasi-military “caretaker government” rule of 2007-2008, there were strong rumors of a Jamaat-army tacit understanding: while both AL and BNP leaders were jailed, Jamaat was practically untouched.

These alliances conferred one major benefit. Jamaat regained, at least partially, the legitimacy it lost by violently opposing the country’s birth.

In conjunction with these tactical alliances, Azam had a third prong. Drawing on various revolutionary movements across the world, Jamaat has pursued infiltration—putting ideologically committed men and women in key sectors of state, society and the economy, so that, if and when the time comes, a coordinated putsch could catapult it to power. This was pursued most vigorously between 2001 and 2006. When the BNP led alliance (of which Jamaat was a key partner) won the 2001 election, Jamaat demanded two things. First, they wanted a suitable official post for Matiur Rahman Nizami. The former Al Badr leader had been the party’s parliamentary head in the early 1990s, and had replaced Azam as the party chief by the end of the decade. Second, the party’s number two, Ali Ahsan Mujahid (who was not an MP), had to be made the minister of social welfare.

The social welfare ministry was chosen because this ministry regulated the country’s massive NGO sector and was supposed to look after sociocultural organizations throughout the country. In 1971, Jamaat targeted progressive voices violently. During the 2001-2006 period, it made things difficult for progressive activities, while generously supporting Islamic institutions that adhered to its interpretation.

And finally, there is the fourth prong. IJT lost control of the campuses in the 1960s, first to the leftists, then to the nationalists led by the AL. They wanted to rectify it in the 1980s. They focused on the universities of Rajshahi and Chittagong for their proximity to the border — consistent with their electoral strategy.

Have these strategies worked?

Up to 2007, many observers would have answered in the affirmative. While its larger ally, BNP, was hobbled by corruption scandal, Jamaat was seen as relatively clean — consistent with its mantra: Allah’s law, and honest men’s rule. After the quasi-coup of January 2007, BNP seemed to be in disarray, and many expected Jamaat to emerge as the main alternative to the AL. In the post-9/11 world, Jamaat offered a so-called moderate Islamism to the west.

But, its role in 1971 continued to shackle the party. While Azam played down 1971—evading answers or shifting the discussion whenever the war and the party’s role in it was raised—the newer leaders made a series of confrontational statements that tried to rewrite the history of 1971, erasing any allegation of war crimes. This provoked a backlash, and the demand for trials of its leaders (and a few individuals in other parties) on charges of war crimes gathered momentum.

The Shahbagh Movement

Trying the killers and collaborators of 1971 was a key electoral promise made by the AL in the 2008 elections, which it won in a landslide (232 out of 300 seats). Most of the top leadership of Jamaat was arrested in 2010, when the war crimes trial process started. When Abdul Quader Mollah, also known as the “Butcher of Mirpur,” escaped the death penalty after being convicted of atrocities in 1971, protestors came out to the streets in droves. The Shahbagh movement is the largest movement since the 1990 toppling of the Ershad government. Among other things, the movement demands banning of Jamaat and of religious politics.

It is too early to tell how the movement will play out. Perhaps Jamaat will be banned. Perhaps, not. However, the party has found the past few years quite difficult. With its top tier in jail for alleged war crimes, and the second tier in jail for opposing the war crimes trial process, the party is essentially being run by its 3rd or 4th tier leaders. While they formally adhere to the strategy devised by Azam, in practice, the limitations of that strategy in the current circumstances have resulted in significant internal debate.

One faction, led by what is understood as the business wing of the party (with significant financial connections in the Gulf), want to reboot the party along the lines of the Turkish AKP. Mir Quasim Ali, a business tycoon, and Barrister Abdur Razzaq are often touted as potential leaders of such a revamped party. Some speculate that the ruling AL condone, if not bless, such a scenario. A revamped JI would draw votes away from the BNP and benefit AL.

But another faction, led by former Chhatra Shibir men who saw the triumph of violence in Chittagong and Rajshahi, want to take direct action. They are also inspired by various Arab uprisings, and dream of emulating them in Bangladesh. Since November, they have taken to coordinated violence across Dhaka and other cities.

Finally, there are former Jamaat members who found the party too moderate when it was in government in the 2000s and too pusillanimous in opposition since. Some of them joined violent jihad under the banner of organizations like Harkatul Jihad or Jagrata Muslim Janata Bangladesh—both effectively suppressed in 2006-2007. If Jamaat is banned, some of its more radical elements may well return to the ways of the bomb.

The people who led the party in 1971, and committed horrific crimes while collaborating with the murderous Pakistan army, will soon be gone. If not in the gallows, these old men will die soon in their beds. What their younger followers choose remains to be seen. And the choice will have significant ramifications for Bangladesh.

Anwar Dayal is a political analyst who blogs with Alal-o-Dulal.

 

 

 

#India- Air attacks in Mizoram, 1966 – our dirty, little secret


19 FEB, 2013,  ABHEEK BARMAN,ET BUREAU

The original villages, crops and granaries were destroyed to deny wandering insurgents shelter and food.

The original villages, crops and granaries were destroyed to deny wandering insurgents shelter and food.
One month and four days after becoming prime minister of IndiaIndira Gandhi was faced with a problem familiar to her father, Jawaharlal Nehru: an insurgency in the north east. On February 28, 1966, the Mizo National Army (MNA) revolted against India and fighting broke out across the region. In response, the Indian state did two unprecedented things.

By March 2, the MNA had overrun the Aizawl treasury and armoury and was at the headquarters of theAssam Rifles. It had also captured several smaller towns south of Aizawl. The military tried to ferry troops and weapons by helicopter, but was driven away by MNA snipers.

So, at 11:30 am on March 5, the air force attacked Aizawl with heavy machine gun fire. On March 6, the attack intensified, and incendiary bombs were dropped. This killed innocents and completely destroyed the four largest areas of the city: Republic Veng, Hmeichche Veng, Dawrpui Veng and Chhinga Veng.

Locals left their homes and fled into the hills in panic. The MNA melted away into surrounding gorges, forests and hills, to camps in Burma and the then East Pakistan. The air force strafed Aizawl and other areas till March 13. One local told a human rights committee set up by Khasi legislators GG Swell and Rev Nichols Roy that, “There were two types of planes which flew over Aizawl — good planes and angry planes. The good planes were those which flew comparatively slowly and did not spit out fire or smoke; the angry planes were those which escaped to a distance before the sound of their coming could be heard and who spat out smoke and fire.”

This was the first— and only — time that the air force has been used to attack Indians in India. It cleared Aizawl and other cities of the MNA, but did not finish off the insurgency, which would last for another 20 years. Till the 1980s, the Indian military stoutly denied the use of air attacks in Mizoram in 1966.

By 1967, the Armed Forces Special Powers Act was in force in the area that is now Mizoram. That year, the eastern military brass, led by the then Lt General Maneckshaw, and government decided to implement the second terrible thing it did in Mizoram. This was called ‘regrouping of villages.’

At the that time, there was one road coming south from Silchar in Assam, that traveled all the way down to where the state’s limits ended. To the east and west of this road were vast tracts of forests, hills and ravines, dotted with hundreds of villages.The military plan was to gather villagers from all over, and cluster them along the side of this road. These new, so-called Protected and Progressive Villages (PPVs), were nothing but concentration camps, minus gas chambers. The movement was supposed to be voluntary — people in some far off hamlet were supposed to jump with joy when told to give up their land, crops and homes to trek hundreds of miles and live behind barbed wire. Actually, the military told villagers to take what they could carry on their backs, and burn everything else down. Elders signed ‘consent’ papers at gunpoint.

In every case, villagers refused to move. When they were coerced to march, they would refuse to burn down their properties. Then, the military officer and his men would torch the whole place down. They would march in a column guarded by the military, to their designated PPV.

Life here was tough: each resident was numbered and tagged, going and coming was strictly regulated and rations were meagre. In the PPVs’ confines, tribal conventions broke down. In the scramble for scarce resources, theft, murder and alcoholism became widespread.

The regrouping destroyed the Mizos’ practice of jhum, or shifting cultivation. There was little land inside the PPVs and their original jhum areas had been left far behind in the interiors. Farm output fell off a cliff. Mizoram suffered from near-famine conditions, supplemented by what little the military could provide, for the next three years.

Why were the villagers herded into the PPVs? The military reckoned that keeping villagers under their eyes would keep them from sheltering insurgents or joining the MNA. The original villages, crops and granaries were destroyed to deny wandering insurgents shelter and food.

These ideas were picked up by our officers from the colonial British playbook. The British had regrouped villages during the Boer war in the early 20th century, in Malaya, where they interned Chinese in special camps and in Kenya where villages were uprooted to crush the Mau Mau revolt.

The British could get away with all this because they were inflicting pain on a subject population. The Indian establishment had no such fig leaf: it was giving grief to its own citizens.

The scale of the Mizoram regrouping was awesome. Out of 764 villages, 516 were evacuated and squeezed into 110 PPVs. Only 138 villages were left untouched. In the Aizawl area, about 95% of the rural population was herded into PPVs. No Russian gulag or German concentration camp had hosted such a large chunk of the local population.

The first PPVs were dismantled in 1971, but the last ones continued for another eight years. The MNA revolt ended in 1986. No government has expressed regret for the bombing and regrouping.

 

Bangladesh freedom fighter says war crimes trial will set an example for world


Dhaka , Sun, 04 Nov 2012ANI

Dhaka, Nov.4 (ANI): Bangladeshi freedom fighter and chairman of the country’s University Grants Commission A. K. Azad Chowdhury has said that the successful holding of the war crimes trial in his country would set an example for the rest of world.

War crimes tribunal, which was set in 2010, requires wrapping up investigations of all those who were accused, as the government aims to finish their trials before Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina’s five-year term ends. She took charge of office in early 2009.

A former chief of Jamaat-e-Islami, Bangladesh‘s biggest Islamic political party and the country’s top Islamist leader, Golan Azam, is on trial for helping the Pakistani army during Bangladesh’s 1971 war of independence when the then East Pakistan broke away to form Bangladesh.

Jamaat -e-Islami and its close ally the opposition Bangladesh Nationalist Party allege that the tribunal hearing the case takes orders from the government.

While talking reporters in Dhaka, the former freedom fighter stressed that holding of trial in a proper manner will project Bangladesh with a positive image.

“Why not there should be a justified trial to strengthen and bolster the human values, and give a teaching and lesson to the world that nobody can get away doing this sort of genocide and criminal activity and war crimes? This is more needed for the civilisation to uphold this sort of trial. It is not only Bangladesh’s cause, definitely Bangladesh has sore point in its heart,” said Chowdhury.

Chowdhury also added that the implementation of justice in this case will deter other tyrants in the world and will put an end to such acts of crime against humanity in future.

“The world at large should and will appreciate in such a manner that no other evil force in the world wherever it is will venture to commit crimes against humanity, to commit war crime. We are living in a civilised society though there are hotspots in the world. But systematic genocide and killing and such incidents are few and far behind. If this trial is properly done that will work as a deterrent to any other people who are conspiring or will be conspiring to commit genocide,” he said.

Chowdhury said that if anybody would try to defend the alleged war criminals, it would put the entire genocide undercover.

“This sort of trial should not prolong that much. Some people are bringing about all those defence with the objective to delay the whole process. This is in another word denial of the war crime trial. I expect the process will be expedited for the sake of humanity, for the sake of Bengali nation, for the sake of mankind,” he said.

Bangladesh, formerly East Pakistan, gained independence with India’s help in December 1971, following a nine-month war against Pakistan. Around 3 million people were killed.

The Islamist groups in Bangladesh want to scrap “secularism” as a state principle in the Muslim-majority country.

Jamaat-e-Islami opposed Bangladesh’s independence from Pakistan and fought with the Pakistan army.

They were allegedly involved in war crimes and have thousands of militant followers, including in the Defence forces, analysts say.

Dozens of other Jamaat leaders including its chief Moulana Motiur Rahman Nizami and secretary-general Ali Ahsan Mohammad Mujahid are already in prison accused of war crimes.

A court in Bangladesh charged prominent opposition politician Moulana Delwar Hossain Sayedi with war crimes in the country’s 1971 war of independence.

Court officials said Sayedi was the first to be formally charged with war crimes, and others would be charged soon. (ANI)

Bachchu Razakar goes on trial
Sun, Nov 4th, 2012 7:18 pm BdST
Dhaka, Nov 4 (bdnews24.com)—The second war crimes tribunal of Bangladesh on Sunday ordered the start of the trial against Jamaat-e-Islami leader Abul Kalam Azad, better known as ‘Bachchu Razakar’, on eight charges of crimes against humanity committed during the Liberation Warin 1971.The three-judge International Crimes Tribunal–2 led by Justice ATM Fazle Kabir framed charges against Azad and set Nov 14 for witness deposition to start.

The court also threw away a plea by Azad’s counsels seeking his acquittal.

The prosecution on Sept 2 had submitted former charges linking him to crimes against humanity including genocide, murder, rape, arson, loot, abduction, deportation and persecution.

Prosecutor Shahidur Rahman had said the Pakistan Army entered Faridpur on Apr 21, 1971. On that day, Azad along with the Pakistan troops murdered eight people at Faridpur’s well-known Jagatbandhu Ashram and later killed Kolaron village Zamindar (landlord) Sudhanshu Mohon Roy and his son Monimoy Roy, he added.

‘Bachchu Razakar’ is said to have been an accomplice of Jamaat-e-Islami Secretary General Ali Ahsan Mohammad Mujaheed in Faridpur district during the war.

He was a member of Jamaat’s student wing Islami Chhatra Sangha when he was a student of Rajendra College in Faridpur in 1971.

After Mar 25, 1971, Azad formed a group of his own which committed crimes against humanity in different places in Faridpur during the war.

The ICT-2 on Sept 9 accepted charges and ordered his arrest and production by Sept 23.

The arrest warrant for him was issued in April, police failed to find him after raids on his office and residence. He is believed to have fled to Pakistan.

The tribunal on Oct 7 decided to continue trial in Azad’s absentia as he did not turn up even after public notice was issued for his appearance.

bdnews24.com/eh/shs/bd/1900h

 

Sunday Reading–Who’s afraid of Saadat Hasan Manto?


The Union of India is eager to embrace the great writer, whose 100th birthday falls on this week, as one of its own. But how would Manto have looked at India had he stayed on? By Garga Chatterjee


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The left-wing student organization I belonged to in my college days in Kolkata used to have a poster exhibition every year. This exhibition has begun to take place every year after the 1992 demolition of the Babri structure. One of them had those memorable words calligraphied red-black in a typical Bengali left-wing style – “The child noticed the coagulated blood on the road, pulled at his mother’s sleeve and said, ‘Look, ma, jelly’.” That, I discovered, was a fragment of a very short ‘story'; and to read the rest, I had to go to Manto.

Why did he leave Bombay? India would have been so much of a ‘natural’ home for him, they say

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There is a lot of hushed and not-so-hushed lamentation in this year of Saadat Hasan Manto‘s birth centenary. Why did he leave Bombay? India would have been so much of a ‘natural’ home for him, they say. Somewhere between pronunciations such as these, so characteristic of the self-congratulatory strain of elite public-secularism and a second-hand appreciation of Manto’s raw exposition of the chasm between our private and public lives, somewhere between those things lies the attitude with which we in India look at Manto. The Anglicized literati and their patron, the Indian Union, wants to own Saadat Hasan Manto. They are masters at making cages for living writers – some gilded, others iron-made. Some cages become sarkari mausoleums after the writer’s death. Zoo tigers do not bite, generally. Clearly, the enthusiasm of some folks on this side of owning Manto comes from a hope that sooner or later, a suitably golden cage could be made for him in the Union of India, for us to cheer and clap at. But I am not so sure.

The Anglicized literati of India want to own Saadat Hasan Manto. They are masters at making cages for living writers

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Today, in Delhi and other places, Manto is dramatized, commemorated, written and read, largely in English. Urdu’s currency as one of the pervasive languages of the common public sphere (and not ‘qaumi’ affairs) of the Upper Gangetic plain has seen progressive ruin. Read primarily in English, would Manto resign himself to having a smaller following than, say, Chetan Bhagat? Would Manto have loved this loss of readership, would he have wanted to be primarily remembered for getting a Filmfare award for “lifetime achievement” in writing stories for Hindi movies? I am not so sure. He might have written about the gosht the Union would serve up, not only mazhabi gosht, but gosht from a thousand faultlines. He might have written about the garam gosht cooked up in Delhi in 1984, when Sikhs were massacred on that city’s streets, or about the gosht of Muslims burned and killed in Ahmedabad in 2002, if he lived to be 90 years old. Would he, a “Muslim” writer in our times, not be accused of writing only against “Hindu” violence? I am not so sure. He certainly would have written about a lot of gosht served up in East Pakistan in 1971. He certainly wouldn’t have had a postage stamp of the kind issued in 2005 with his image on it. Dying young has its benefits.

Read primarily in English, would Manto resign himself to having a smaller following than, say, Chetan Bhagat?

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He might have looked at the Saltoro range and the slow-killing heights of Siachen. He might have peered into that deathly whiteness, peered deep into it and among the frostbitten parts of the limbs would have located the new coordinates of Toba Tek Singh. Not content with “obscenity”, there might have been calls for him to be charged with sedition. That would have been true, irrespective of his leaving Bombay or not. He would have continued to write about the sensuality that permeates life in the Indian Subcontinent. Invariably, they would have intersected with more than one faith, belief and god(s), for they too pervade public life in the Union of India. Like Maqbul Fida Hussain, that sterling admirer of the goddess Durga who liberated her from the patently mid-19th century blouse-clad look, re-imagining the holy mother in her naked matriarchal glory, Manto’s run-ins with “public sensibilities” might just have been enough to eject him from Bombay. Almost surely, as it happened with MF Hussain, a robust on-the-ground counter to hate-mongerers would have been found wanting. Hardly being ‘Pak’, in the long run, perhaps he would have been easily pushed out of Pakistan also, where he “had only seen five or six times before as a British subject”.

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