It does not matter whether they are black or white in color - talking symbolically.
Just take a look at these two news items. Both represents two side of establishment of Bangladesh.
Both are daughters of arguably two of the leading newspaper editors - one Bangla and one English.
It should be recoginized that there will be many who would disagree with the presumption that we are comparing the two editors side by side - public perception is so that there is a sea of difference between them. However, many might not be agree. Off course, both the daughters, as proud as they seem be, would argue that they are indeed one of the best products of the nation. However, our focus is not the fathers, rather the next generation - the daughters themselves.
Empowering the people, the bright and the best is the only way to improve the future of the country. The reforms has to aim to break and re-do the basic structure of the society, not the figureheads. Figureheads will go anyways, if you can re-align the structure and power-relations of the system.
Anyways, following are two articles from two daughters of two renowned Editors of Bangladesh. It is very unfortunate. One thing that comes out strong is that the elite of Bangladesh is not happy with the current reforms and efforts of the government. That could explain the internal tention of the government, since many of the members of the current government are actually representatives of our elite members of the society.
We hope that the fathers might be upset at this aricle. However, the youngs should be much more open minded. We hope that they continue their search for the truth, not only on the pages of newspapers, but also seek the truth within their own home, own mind and own soul. After all, our teeming millions would need their contribution in a positive sense, not in negative sense!
May the Almight bless them.
Bangladesh: Give me back my country
Tahmima Anam
Published 22 January 2007
Source: http://www.newstatesman.com/200701220027
When Tahmima Anam went home to Dhaka to cast her vote in the now-postponed election, she found a nation in chaos, tormented by corruption and brutality.
On 10 January 1972, my father came home to his country for the first time. It was three weeks after the end of the Bangladesh war, and he was making his way back from India, where he had enlisted with the newly formed Bangladesh army. When I think about that day, I always wonder what country my father thought he was returning to. Surely it was a thing of his imagination, born out of the years marching against the Pakistani occupation, the months touring India to gain support for the war, the gruelling training at the officers' camp in West Bengal. I can picture the shock that he and his fellow freedom fighters must have felt when they finally did cross that border, seeing their imagined country and their real country meet for the first time.
The Bengali phrase desh-prem means "love for the country". Like many expatriate Bangladeshis, my desh-prem makes me believe there will come a day when I pack my bags and leave London for good. My desh-prem is a long-distance affair, full of passion and misunderstanding; often, my heart is broken. Many Bangladeshis never actually return home; it is more of an idea, something to turn over in our hearts before we go to sleep, but for me the prospect of returning is real. In 1990, after 14 years abroad, my parents left their jobs with the United Nations and moved back to Bangladesh. So many of their friends told them they were foolish to return to a country that had so little to offer, but in the latter months of that year, Hossain Mohammad Ershad's military dictatorship was toppled by massive public action of a kind not seen since the days of the independence movement. So the country my family returned to was bathed in hope, and, almost two decades after the birth of Bangladesh, we finally seemed on the brink of becoming a functioning democracy.
Sixteen years after Ershad's dramatic fall, Bangladesh is a very different place. We have had three national elections, and our two main political parties, the Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP) and the Awami League, have handed power back and forth to each other like a baton in a relay, each election becoming successively more bitter, and each five-year term bringing dramatic increases in corruption and partisan politics. Amazingly, when the Awami League was in power, the BNP refused to attend parliament; when the BNP was in power, the Awami League refused to attend. As a result, the people we mandated to represent us in government failed to discharge their responsibilities, instead taking to the streets and announcing that their defeat was engineered and not willed by the voting public.
In Bangladesh, elections come hand in hand with claims of vote-rigging. Where there is an election and a transfer of power, there will inevitably be rumours of conspiracy, of stolen ballot boxes and hijacked polling stations. Whether and to what degree these rumours are true is almost less important than the assumption that a sitting government cannot hold a fair election. Therefore, in 1995, the constitution was amended to include a peculiar and rather clever system of handing power to a caretaker government that is responsible for holding a fair election. According to the constitution, the last retired chief justice of the Bangladesh Supreme Court becomes chief adviser to the caretaker government. He has the authority of a prime minister, and is given the responsibility of appointing a cabinet, together with which he will govern the country for no more than 90 days. During this time his main tasks will be to oversee fair and non-partisan elections and to hand over power to the newly elected government.
So far, so good. But as plans go, this one is not foolproof. Although the arrangement worked on the first two occasions, this time around the BNP felt it could not afford to lose the election. All the signs indicated that if the election was free and fair, the BNP would be defeated by the Awami League. After five years of alleged corruption, theft and autocracy, it was faced with the possibility that it would actually have to be accountable for the crimes it had committed during its tenure. The excesses of previous regimes were mild compared with those perpetrated during those five years, which saw an alliance between the BNP and the most powerful of the Islamic parties, the Jamaat-e-Islami. The BNP formed this strategic partnership in 2001, and over the past five years the Jamaat's influence has spread throughout the bureaucracy and district governments, enabling the party to build grass-roots support and gain crucial political and public recognition.
As well as giving power and legitimacy to the Islamic right, the BNP alliance committed severe abuses of power. It politicised the police force and formed the Rapid Action Battalion (RAB), a special branch that was responsible for hundreds of killings in the name of "law and order". This force signed contracts for bridges that were never built, bought television channels, appointed biased judges, jailed and harassed the opposition, and placed RAB people into every post that might influence the election. The alliance invented 14 million false voters. By the same stroke, it wiped most Bangladeshis from a religious or ethnic minority from the electoral register.
Popular opposition to the BNP's blatant attempts at manipulating the election has made it terrified of losing power, and so, instead of allowing the caretaker government to fall into the hands of a neutral chief adviser, it encouraged the BNP-appointed president, Iajuddin Ahmed, to take the post. When we first saw the ageing Iajuddin taking the oath to become chief adviser, he appeared harmless enough. People, including the opposition, decided to give him a chance to show his neutrality - his desh-prem. But he proved to be easily manipulated, and after a few weeks he became a hated figure.
In the meantime, the beleaguered Awami League has committed its fair share of mistakes. In order to press its demands it called an indefinite series of strikes, bringing the economy to a halt while it conducted its campaigns of civil disobedience. No one went to work; the classrooms emptied out, the ships were marooned at Chittagong port, and the price of dhal tripled in a matter of months. But by far the most un forgivable blunder it committed was to sign a deal with the far-right Khilafat-e-Majlish. The Awami League has long claimed an ideological advantage over the BNP, branding itself the more secular, progressive party, so for those of us who believed there was a significant difference between the two parties, this was a cynical and heartbreaking manoeuvre. Under the terms of the deal, the Awami League will assist the Khilafat-e-Majlish in legalising fatwas and challenging any laws that contradict "Koranic values". Whether the Islamic right will really gain a foothold in mainstream politics - and the hearts of the public - in Bangladesh remains to be seen; however, that both parties believe they cannot win an election without the endorsement of the right is sign enough that Bangladesh's identity as a moderate Muslim country is under threat.
When I landed in Dhaka a few days ago, the city looked as it so often does in January. The fog was low and woolly on the ground; people were huddled under their shawls; the smell of oranges and roasted peanuts lingered in the air. But, of course, I knew that all was not as it seemed. In these past few months my desh-prem has been under siege, and this time, I arrived in Dhaka in bitter spirits. I had planned this trip so that I would be able to vote; I had spent months looking forward to returning to Bangladesh to exercise my democratic right. Yet as the day drew near, I realised I wouldn't be going home to vote, but rather to witness a sham election. With the Awami League boycotting the elections, and talk of a constitutional crisis, we all began to worry that this year could mark the death of democracy in Bangladesh. The mood was sombre and people seemed resigned; it appeared there was nothing anyone could do to prevent this political charade from going ahead.
But then, just as it appeared there was no solution in sight, the president suddenly declared a state of emergency and postponed the elections indefinitely. He resigned as chief adviser and dissolved the caretaker cabinet. The exact reasons for his about-face are still opaque, but we do know that it happened through a combination of international pressure and army intervention. To what degree the army is now running things is unclear; vague and ominous ordinances have been proposed, some of which hint at restrictions on personal freedom and on the media.
Walter Benjamin famously said that a state of emergency is also always a state of emergence. Can we take this literally in Bangladesh? Will the emergency see us through to a fair election, or will the army consolidate its power and wrest democracy from us indefinitely? And what would happen to my desh-prem then? Could it survive another onslaught?
Whenever I imagine returning to Bangladesh for good, I wonder what kind of country I want to return to. I want, more than anything, to have that feeling of protean possibility that my father must have had when he crossed the border into his new country. I want a country where my gender does not preclude me from being an equal citizen. Where corruption has not touched every facet of public life. Where the children don't sell popcorn on street corners or work in matchstick factories. I want to know that I'm going to show up on polling day and see my name on the voter registration list. I want to stand in a queue, press my thumb into a pad of ink, and put my mark wherever I like. I want my politicians to stop courting the Islamic right. I want the water table to stop rising. I want the government to stop driving the Hindus and the Chakmas and the Santals out of this country. I want someone to count my vote. I want a halt to the steady erosion of civil liberties. I want a country where the army cannot arrest anyone without a warrant. I want our political parties to be democratic, transparent and accountable. I want fair and neutral judges. I want the right to vote. I want there to be no such thing as a legal fatwa. I want the war criminals of the 1971 genocide to be tried, condemned and jailed. I want to vote. I want a country worthy of my desh-prem. I want a country.
Tahmima Anam's debut novel, "A Golden Age", set during the 1971 Bangladesh war of independence, will be published in March by John Murray (£14.99)
Dhaka Dilemma
One year after the the implementation of military rule in Bangladesh.
by Maneeza Hossain
01/11/2008 12:00:00 AM
Source: http://www.weeklystandard.com/Content/Public/Articles/000/000/014/569qhyrd.asp
TODAY MARKS THE first anniversary of the momentous events of January 11, 2007, when Bangladesh's constitutional government was replaced by military rule. For 365 days, Bangladeshis have lived under a state of emergency: their constitutional rights have been suspended, civil liberties limited, and hundreds of thousands--ranging from former prime ministers to ad hoc peddlers--arrested under the banner of "fighting corruption." One year after taking power, the military "caretaker" government's promises to implement a better, truer democracy have not been fulfilled.
To the contrary, the unelected, paraconstitutional government of Bangladesh can claim credit for two appalling developments: the politicization of the army, which has blurred the lines between the army and civilian administration and has introduced into the army the same corruption rampant in Bangladeshi politics; and the creeping delegitimization of democracy, which has occurred as various undemocratic actions--arrests of perceived enemies, the exclusion of duly elected leaders from political life, the ban on "indoor politics," which forbids private political discussions--are normalized under the army's rule.
Despair is setting in among many Bangladeshis. But in the West, and even among some in Bangladesh, there is denial rather than despair. Some reject the idea that a military coup took place. Bangladesh's two previous military takeovers both had a visible military face. The uniqueness of the new takeover is that the military hand is hidden in the velvet glove of a renowned technocratic team, led by Fakhruddin Ahmed, an internationally acclaimed, world-class economist.
But the refusal to recognize the coup as a coup goes deeper than
that. Perhaps Western democrats never believed Bangladesh really capable of democracy, or perhaps they are willing to endorse a fictional democracy if doing so is in line with perceived international interests. Or perhaps new global risks have prompted the international community to accept an unelected government in Bangladesh: the belief that Islamism must be contained at all costs is taken to justify support for this new order, even if it means the indefinite suspension of democracy.
It is hard not be reminded of Pakistan. Bangladesh, once known as East Pakistan, is afflicted by many of the same ills: Islamism is a rising threat; corruption has eroded the political system; democracy appears a luxury too dear for the present; and the military, as the foremost professional institution, is the most trustworthy partner against the rise of Islamism. In both countries, moreover, reform will depend on the government bureaucracy and the expatriates.
One difference between the two, however, is in the response of Western diplomats. When Parvez Musharraf declared the state of emergency in Pakistan in November 2007, governments of democratic nations expressed their disapproval and dismay. "The people of Pakistan deserve the opportunity to choose their leaders," declared John Negroponte when he flew over to Islamabad. But a year has passed since the military assumed power in Bangladesh, and the silence of much of the world amounts to complicity in the destruction of Bangladesh's democratic potential. While the West remains silent, Bangladesh sinks deeper into crisis. The country's currency has lost 10 percent of its value, leading businessmen are kept behind bars, and the price of commodities such as edible oil and rice are being forcibly kept down by the army's experiment in state-controlled economics.
Husain Haqqani, a Pakistan expert and advisor to the late Benazir Bhutto, has referred to the "Pakistanization" of Bangladesh. A decade from now, we may see in Bangladesh a politicized military that holds the reins of power, controls the economy, and has the final say in social, economic, and political affairs. We can likewise expect a shrunken and weakened political class exhausted from losing its leaders to exile, trial, intimidation. The other effect is likely to be a growing grassroots movement that appeals to urban as well as rural populations, that provides services parallel to the government's, and that--under the banner of an ever-radicalizing Islamism--offers an outlet for venting frustration with corrupt politicians and dire economic circumstances. We may even witness Western powers arranging for the return of a former prime minister, Sheikh Hasina, in response to the military's failure to contain the Islamist threat.
The current unelected government claims to pursue genuine democracy, respect for political pluralism, and avoidance of radical intolerance, but the course it is now following is not conducive to the fulfillment of these goals.
Still, Western governments seem inclined to continue their tacit support for the actions of the Bangladeshi Caretaker government--contingent on a timetable to elections. In turn, the Caretaker is adamant about excluding both former Prime Ministers ("the feuding ladies") from any future political role. What remains to be seen is whether the Bangladeshi electorate is willing to go along with this exclusionary stand. From the military's point of view, this remains a sine
quo non. Political change will be limited to tinkering with the current configuration of façade players.
Instead of containing Islamism and paving the way for the blossoming of democracy, the current arrangement has delegitimized democracy in practice as well as in culture, and in doing so has helped to consolidate and strengthen Islamist movements. A sensible approach for the current government of Bangladesh would be to adhere to its formal task of preparing for elections using technical, not political, criteria. It should also immediately stop attempting to force reforms within political parties; this is a task that should be left for the electorate. Democrats worldwide, notably in India, Europe, and the United States, should unequivocally demand that the state of emergency be lifted at once in preparation for the restoration of democracy.
Yes, the Bangladeshi experimentation with democracy was riddled with problems. But that is the nature of democracy. A democracy's problems have to be resolved within the context of democracy, not within the context of military rule.
Maneeza Hossain is a senior fellow at Hudson Institute and author of Broken Pendulum: Bangladesh's Swing to Radicalism (Hudson Institute Press, 2007).