At the same time, I was outraged to see that some of our intellectual elites were providing the government with intellectual cover-ups while our unarmed students were being killed en masse.
I understood their security concerns, but I thought that, at the very least, they could remain reticent. Instead, they chose to abet autocracy. Perhaps, they thought that the regime would survive that wave of protests, and with time, things would once again fall in place.
Fear gripped all of us—in Bangladesh and in its diasporas. We could not anticipate such a murderous venture by the Hasina government to quell the student movement, nor did we comprehend the logic behind using our security forces to kill our young people in the streets.
I suffered from a severe Hamletian dilemma. Shall I or shall I not write about the government repression on the student protesters? I wanted to write, but would my writing jeopardise the security of my family members in Bangladesh?
The internal battle within me was raging. It was between my urge to rise to the occasion and write, and the need to consider the safety of my family members back home. As I was torn between these two dominant emotions, on July 30, I received a request from a journalist friend in Dhaka, saying, "If possible, please write a piece on the student movement… we all are distraught. But we are speaking."
This message reinforced the severity of the situation and the urgency to speak up. It boosted my morale and I shed my fear and hesitancy. I immediately produced two essays: "What leads students to defy death on streets" (New Age, July 31, 2024) and "Violence against students: A tribute to our little John Hampdens" (The Daily Star, August 4, 2024).
I had written "Hasina's memory-killing tactics and our responsibility" before Hasina fell and fled on August 5. But it was published afterwards, on August 7.
In post-Hasina Bangladesh, my friends who sought to distance themselves from me now answer my phone calls. Intellectual elites who were hesitant until the morning of August 5 to call a spade a spade now describe Hasina's rule as an autocracy. Many of them who adjusted with the Hasina regime then are now readjusting with the interim government and with the new reality.
They lived a comfortable life then and may continue to do so now. But I have great respect for those writers and journalists who wrote and spoke against Hasina's autocracy at a time when others didn't consider it prudent to do so. I feel morally privileged that I belong to this group.
Did my writings over the years shake Hasina's autocracy? Did they help mitigate the sufferings of people in Bangladesh and elsewhere? Or, did they embolden the anti-discrimination student movement? The answers to all these questions are probably in the negative.
Not many writers are able to make a material difference in society through their writings. In "In Memory of WB Yeats", the Anglo-American poet WH Auden writes in reference to his fellow litterateur WB Yeats's literary career:
Mad Ireland hurt you into poetry.
Now Ireland has her madness and her weather still,
For poetry makes nothing happen.
Yeats's literary career was largely inspired by the troubles in his country, Ireland, and he wrote to fix them. But, according to Auden, Yeats's work didn't do much to establish peace and stability in Ireland. Likewise, Hasina's autocracy got me out of my academic cocoon and motivated me to write essays on down-to-earth issues that affected Bangladesh during her rule.
But I don't think Hasina fell because of my writing. Why do I continue writing then? To use Dr Badiul Alam Majundar's words, I write out of a need to have a clear conscience. Regardless of its effects on others, my writerly commitment to noble causes serves as a source of moral comfort for me. This is very important to me. I would like to end this essay with a relevant quote from the 11th century polymath Ibn Hazm: "It seems unworthy of a man to consecrate himself to something which is not higher than he is…. One who consecrates himself to lesser things is like one who trades a precious gem for a pebble."
Dr Md Mahmudul Hasan is professor of English at International Islamic University Malaysia. Email: [email protected].