BANGLADESH
Quest for Freedom and Justice
Kamal Hossain
Acknowledgments
In writing about political events that span over three decades, I must acknowledge a debt to many individuals with whom I came into close contact. Part of the reason for this was that I was in the right place at the right time and was associated with persons who were actively involved in significant movements for change. The time was right as martial law, imposed in 1958, brought together political personalities, lawyers, academics, journalists, and young student activists. Through active involvement with them, and the sharing of our experiences, I gained insight and knowledge of the events about which I have written.
My association with the High Court and the legal world began at the end of 1959, and with Dhaka University in 1961. Amongst senior lawyers whom I was able to assist were Huseyn Shaheed Suhrawardy, Sabita Ranjan Pal, A. K. Brohi, Mahmud Ali Kasuri, senior advocates A. M. Abdulla (later Justice), and Abu Sayeed Choudhury (later Justice and President of Bangladesh). Amongst my contemporaries, my longest and closest associations were with Syed Ishtiaq Ahmed, Amirul Islam, and Aminul Haq. Those who were a little senior to us but equally close were Faqueer Shahabuddin Ahmad, Shaukat Ali Khan, and Kamruddin Ahmad.
I became part of a very special circle of academics inspired by Professor Abdur Razzaque, popularly known as ‘Sir’, who made us think critically about political and social problems. Leading economists, such as Nurul Islam, Rehman Sobhan, Mosharaf Hussain, Anisur Rahman, and other academicians, such as Professor Muzaffar Ahmed Chowdhury, Professor Khan Sarwar Murshid, and Professor Anisuzzaman, were all engaged in bold creative thinking in response to contemporary challenges. Erfan Ahmed and Ziaul Haq (Tulu) were close friends who helped to draw many others into what grew into a lively debating circle. Muyeedul Hasan, a journalist, Nurjehan Murshed, and Salma Sobhan, were intimate members of our group. We worked together and articulated our ideas through our writings in New Values and Forum.
The intense political ferment which marked the sixties brought me into contact with Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, and through him with Tajuddin Ahmad, Abdul Momen, Zahirul Islam, and others in the Awami League; Abdul Matin (convenor of the state language movement), Ahmedul Kabir, and Serajul Hossain Khan of other political parties.
My acknowledgment to Hameeda is immensely more than the usual ritual since she has helped in more ways than I can enumerate in the production of this book. Her sharp critique gave me deeper insights into this period. Our daughters, Sara and Dina, grew up through these eventful times, experiencing fears and tensions as well as exhilaration and joy, and have helped in finalising the manuscript.
I must thank my tutor, Professor Tony Honore, who taught me constitutional law at Queens’ College, Oxford and who, after my first law degree, engaged me to teach constitutional law to undergraduates at the college. He was responsible for my selection as visiting fellow at All Souls College in January 1975, to start work on what became the initial chapters of this volume. Further progress on this manuscript was facilitated by an extension of this fellowship when I returned to Oxford in August 1975. I was able to avail of the facilities at Chr. Michelsen Institute in Bergen. Norway, arranged by Dr Just Faaland, its director at the time. I recall and value his friendship and encouragement. Professor Tapan Ray Choudhury got me off to a good start by inviting me to present the draft of the first chapter at his graduate seminar at St Antony’s College, Oxford.
I am extremely grateful to the Liberation War Museum and the staff of its documentation centre for allowing me to use their archival photographs which appear on pages 24, 26, 58 and 104, including Rashid Talukder’s photographs on pages 28, 37 and 230, which is from their collection. The other photographs have been collected from different publications and sources which had not credited the names of the photographers.
The production of this volume would not have been possible without valuable reviews from several readers including Professors Anisuzzaman, Nurul Islam, Harun-or-Rashid, and former foreign secretaries S. A. Karim, Fakhruddin Ahmad and Abul Ahsan. It is befitting that the final tribute be paid to Mohiuddin Ahmed of The University Press Ltd. for his relentless pursuit of an elusive author.
Prologue
This prologue has become necessary because I have been asked many questions by those who have read my manuscript, and even by some who may not have read it. It is necessary for me to explain how I became involved in politics; and also to explain why I seem to be recording events as a witness, rather than as an active participant, in the events of the sixties and seventies. My main reason was to focus on the principal actors and events themselves. I had the extraordinary good fortune of working closely with our leaders, as a trusted associate. Therefore, I felt that my task was to put down, as accurately as I could, an objective account rather than one centred around myself. In this prologue, I have attempted to put down the circumstances and the context of the historical events in which I was involved.
I started writing my account in January 1975 when I took leave to avail of a visiting fellowship at All Souls College, Oxford. This fellowship had been proposed when I visited Oxford in 1972 with the first completed draft of the Constitution approved by the members of the Constitution Committee. The Commonwealth Secretary General, Sonny Ramphal, had taken the initiative and arranged for me to consult with some leading experts in Constitutional Law.
I left Dhaka on 16 January 1975 for Oxford with a sense of urgency as Parliament was scheduled to consider and adopt the Fourth Amendment to the Constitution a week later. I believed that this amendment would materially alter the Constitution which had been adopted by consensus – one might almost say, acclamation – on 4 November 1972. The multi-party system was to be replaced by a oneparty system, and the parliamentary form of government was to be replaced by a presidential form.
I had a deeper fear, which I had shared with Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman.1 I was reminded of this by Farashuddin, who had
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1 I first met Bangabandhu in 1959, when we used to address him with respect and affection as ‘Mujib Bhai’. It was in 1969, after he emerged from the Agartala Conspiracy Case, that he was acclaimed as ‘Bangabandhu’ at a mammoth meeting organised by the students in what is today
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retired as the governor of Bangladesh Bank. He told me that he had overheard me telling Bangabandhu, when I went to see him just before leaving for Oxford, that I was uncompromisingly opposed to the oneparty system, not only because I was among many in our like-minded circle who were committed to a multi-party parliamentary democracy, but because the new system would make him a prime target for anyone conspiring to seize power, since the position of head of state, chief executive, and head of the political party would now vest in one person. This fear foreshadowed the tragedy that was to engulf us within eight months.
I had the privilege of having Farashuddin work with me as my first private secretary. It was no accident as I had asked Nurul Islam to recommend, from among his former students, the one who was likely to be the most capable. When Bangabandhu asked me to suggest a good private secretary for him, I readily proposed Farashuddin’s name.
I decided to end my account in 1974, with Bangladesh’s admission into the United Nations. This was a significant milestone in the history of our freedom struggle, as was Bangabandhu’s address to the General Assembly in Bangla on 24 September. From the middle of 1974, however, I began to worry about where we were going and the lack of cohesion amongst ourselves in pursuing shared goals. As we were seeing off Bangabandhu from Dulles Airport in Washington D.C. after his meeting with President Ford, three of us, Tajuddin Bhai, Ambassador M. R. Siddiqi, and I, stayed behind in the airport lounge. We sat down over coffee and expressed our concerns. Tajuddin Bhai himself talked of the ad hoc way in which the government was functioning; the Cabinet was not taking collective decisions and senior members were heard to say that they did not know how decisions were being taken. In this context, Tajuddin Bhai told us that he was greatly concerned about the discussions on the formation of a oneparty system, and felt that this would take the country down a dangerous road. He himself had urged that, post independence, the Awami League needed to undergo an organisational transformation by strengthening its popular base with the induction of motivated young members. He recalled how before independence, the party had drawn its strength from young and dedicated members, selflessly
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Suhrawardy Uddayan. He has been referred to by this title since then. I, therefore, thought it appropriate to refer to him as ‘Bangabandhu’ after that event.
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committed to securing freedom and justice. They had played a vanguard role in mobilising popular unity against the authoritarian regime. What was needed after independence was a radical reorientation of party members. They were to be energised and empowered to become proactive agents of change. This called for a creative leap forward.
Soon after my return from the US in October 1974, I received a telephone message from Bangabandhu to say that Tajuddin had resigned. I rushed over to Bangabandhu’s office and expressed my concern at Tajuddin’s departure from the Cabinet, and what seemed to be the end of their close relationship. I feared that it would deprive Bangabandhu of his wise and frank counsel. I then went to Tajuddin Bhai’s house, where I found him at lunch with his family. I told him that, like many others, I felt his departure from the Cabinet would be a serious setback for the party and the country.
A new period of uncertainty began to unfold as Parliament enacted the Fourth Amendment on 24 January 1975. Even Bangabandhu called it an experiment and, as with all experiments, we could not but be apprehensive of its results. I
Earlier, I had requested Bangabandhu to let me avail of the opportunity of staying at All Souls College, Oxford, for a term to write about our liberation struggle. I also told him that I did not want to participate in the enactment of a constitutional amendment which I could not genuinely support. I left for Oxford two weeks before the Fourth Amendment was passed and Bangabandhu was sworn in as President.
I remember that on 24 January, as I sat with my friend Nurul Islam in Oxford, we wistfully recollected our shared hopes and aspirations for an independent, democratic state. Together, we listened to the radio commentary on the parliamentary session at which the Fourth Amendment had been passed. We shared our immediate concerns: that a one-party system was not likely to lead to the empowerment of people or to the nurturing of the participatory democracy we had dreamt of.
I was a little surprised when, soon after, I received a phone call in Oxford from Bangabandhu suggesting that I join the new Cabinet, and that the oath could be administered over the phone. While I was moved by his continuing to value my work, I was able to persuade him to not insist on this and to let me continue with the task of writing our recent history.
In the first week of March, I received a sealed cover containing a letter from Bangabandhu from our High Commission in London in which he urged my return. He asked that I meet him in Dhaka and that the High Commission make all necessary arrangements. I accordingly returned to Dhaka around 15 March. He received me very warmly when I went to meet him and said he wanted to tell me of some disturbing reports he had received relating to clandestine meetings of some senior party members with military personnel. He, therefore, said he wanted me to take the oath and join as foreign minister. I could join right away and accompany him to the Commonwealth Summit in Kingston, Jamaica, which was scheduled to be held in the coming weeks. On the return journey, I could stay back in Oxford and wind up my work. This is what I did.
After being re-inducted afresh as foreign minister, I became involved in the preparation for important visits Bangabandhu was to make in August, starting with his visit to India in mid-August, followed by visits to Germany and Poland. Preparations involved expediting the posting of Ambassador Shamsur Rahman to New Delhi, to present his credentials in early August. Professor Sarwar Murshid, who was ambassador in Poland, was to contribute briefs on the European visits.
The Islamic Foreign Minister’s Conference was held in July 1975 in Jeddah. I have given an account of some noteworthy aspects of that event in the relevant chapter.
But no one could imagine the devastating assault on Bangladesh which was to take place within a few weeks. The heinous act of the assassination of Bangabandhu on 15 August was reported to me as I was concluding an official visit to Yugoslavia. Within minutes, the Yugoslav foreign ministry officials came to the guest house with teleprinter reports of a military coup, in which it was feared that Sheikh Mujib had been assassinated. The news was shocking and I was stunned. According to my schedule, I was to leave for Dhaka from Belgrade. On getting the news, my Yugoslav hosts proposed that I stay on in Belgrade for some days. I thought that more information was likely to be available in London. However, I decided to fly via Frankfurt to Bonn to be with the only surviving children of Sheikh Mujib, his daughters Hasina and Rehana. They happened to be in Germany at the time, as Hasina’s physicist husband was on a visiting research assignment at an institution near Bonn. I met Sheikh Hasina
scene, and M. B. Naqvi (who became a regular correspondent from Karachi) on ‘Pakistan and Islam’; I wrote on key constitutional issues under the title ‘The Quest for Consensus’. Shilpacharjya Zainul Abedin gave us permission to use one of his famous famine sketches on the cover of the first issue, which encouraged and inspired us. The last issue was dated 20 March 1971; but during its relatively short life, Forum lived up to its name by providing a lively space for incisive and indepth political contributions. While we tried to project a progressive South Asian perspective by publishing articles by progressive writers such as Mazhar Ali Khan and Eqbal Ahmed from West Pakistan, Kumari Jayawardene from Sri Lanka, Amartya Sen from India, Forum was recognised as a credible vehicle for the projection of the struggle for regional autonomy.
The students were very politicised and motivated to struggle for a just cause; they had been in the vanguard of the language movement, now they rallied for withdrawal of martial law and for the people’s rights to freedom and justice. As they formed the core of militant resistance, they often faced arrest or harassment and required our legal help.
The first big case that I got involved in was when the governor, the protégé of the military government, as the Chancellor of Dhaka University was to confer degrees in 1962. As the students protested, refusing to receive degrees from him, the convocation was disrupted. The government immediately took punitive action by expelling the students arbitrarily and cancelling their degrees. We filed a writ petition for judicial review, seeking a remedy by declaring the order to be illegal as it had inflicted punishment without giving any opportunity to those punished to present their defence. Since my friend, Amirul Islam, who worked on this case with me, and I had only been in the profession three years at that time, we sought the help of a leading senior lawyer, S. R. Pal, who moved the petition in the High Court. We won, and the judgment was upheld in a landmark judgment (Zakir Ahmed’s case) by the Supreme Court, which strongly affirmed the doctrine of Natural Justice. It was our first big case, which convinced us that the courts were our forum where we could secure legal remedies through writ petitions and be part of the struggle. The students, too, who got reinstated felt encouraged by their initial success to continue their movement for the restoration of democracy.
We soon became involved in defending political prisoners, detaWe soon became involved in defending political prisoners, detained without trial. We started getting postcards from prisoners, most of them from the political left, but also left-of-centre. Bhasha Shainik Abdul Matin sent a postcard to me: ‘It is good to see you are back as a lawyer; I am in jail, come and see me.’ After I saw him, we moved a habeas corpus petition for his release. Other detainees sent me postcards, and I along with several other young lawyers, started doing habeas corpus cases. We became known for our legal defence of human rights.
In 1963/64, I was involved in another landmark case. Ayub Khan had promulgated a Constitution for a presidential system which provided that any member of Parliament appointed as a minister would cease to be a member. Members put pressure on Ayub to amend this provision, so that membership could be retained by ministers. Ayub yielded to this pressure and amended the provision by Presidential Order. Some of my friends at the Bar, who found this a cavalier way of ‘amending’ the Constitution, were keen to challenge the validity of the Order by filing a writ petition. Abdul Huq, who had been called to the Bar on the same day as I and was elected from Kushtia, filed a writ petition. The petition was successful, and we won in the High Court and the Supreme Court
I came into contact with Sheikh Mujib in 1959 when Mr. Suhrawardy visited Dhaka. The latter was appearing in court in political cases for persons who were being victimised by martial law authorities on all kinds of criminal charges. I used to tag along, and had a chance to talk with Sheikh Mujib. I would start asking questions like ‘What’s going to happen, how long will Martial Law last?’ I was greatly impressed by his answers. He replied, ‘People here will never accept Martial Law. Five years, no more than ten I tell you, change will come in ten years.’ It impressed me a lot because he didn’t say we’ll throw them out tomorrow; he thought about it and said it’s a ten year effort.
Sheikh Mujib had been a minister in the Awami League government but he resigned in order to devote his entire energy to building a mass political organisation, thus setting his sights on the empowerment of the Bangali people through a mass movement to secure their rights and ultimately to gain independence as a sovereign state.
The Awami League launched the Six Points movement in 1966. The history of this movement has been dealt with in some detail in this book. Sheikh Mujib and his colleagues undertook mass contact of at the house of our ambassador, Humayun Rashid Chowdhury. She was understandably, totally distraught and inconsolable.
After spending some time in Bonn, and assuring her that everything possible would be done for their security, I left for London. As soon as communications were resumed with Dhaka, the Bangladesh High Commission was asked to contact me and to put me on the first plane to Dhaka. Pointedly, I was informed that the foreign affairs portfolio had not been allocated till then. I wished it to be conveyed that I did not propose to return to Dhaka.
I regarded my relations with the government to have ceased the moment power had been seized through the assassination and coup. I relinquished my diplomatic passport and requested the High Commission to issue me an ordinary passport. I was grateful that this was done promptly. My immediate tasks were to find a degree of financial viability for myself and to bring my family from Bangladesh. The first contribution to my financial viability was a gift of a hundred pounds from my friend Ziaul Haq Tulu, who happened to be in London. I then received a message from All Souls College seeking to know whether I was safe and alive; when I contacted the Warden to inform him that I had survived, he expressed his sense of relief and said I was welcome to resume my visiting fellowship at All Souls. This almost seemed like a life-saving miracle.
On arrival in London, I was admitted to the Royal Free Hospital because my blood pressure had shot up alarmingly. While undergoing tests and treatment, I was informed that the regime expected me to join the new government. Even after I conveyed my categorical refusal, I kept receiving proposals to join or attend a parliamentarians conference and to lead the delegation to the UN Law of the Sea Conference. I firmly declined and expressed my inability to accept these assignments. Instead, I set about arranging for my mother, wife, and two daughters to join me. My doctors helped by impressing on all who came to see me, in particular from the Bangladesh mission, that I would need prolonged treatment!
Thanks to the efforts of many well-wishers, particularly Fakhruddin Ahmed, the foreign secretary, the formalities were completed for Hameeda, Sara, Dina and my mother to leave Bangladesh by mid-September. I waited at London’s Heathrow airport to receive them, but I became very anxious as repeated announcements were made that the flight was delayed. On their arrival, I learnt that their plane had been held up for three hours in Dhaka, before they were given military clearance to leave and the plane was permitted to take off.
Retrospect: Return from studies abroad and early career
Upon my return to the country, after being called to the Bar in 1959, I joined the university as a part-time teacher in the department of International Relations. A year later, I was invited by Professor Dahm, the head of the law faculty, to join the faculty and share the teaching of International Law with him; later, I was also assigned the teaching of constitutional law.
I was drawn into politics because of developments that many of us saw as threats to civil and political rights. A year earlier, in 1958, martial law had been proclaimed to prevent the holding of the general elections scheduled for February 1959 in Pakistan.
The university was a very vibrant place in those days; it was a centre of intellectual debate amongst both students and teachers who raised issues of economic disparity and political democracy. With a group of academics, we formed NASEP (National Association of Social and Economic Progress) around 1962, and wrote in support of people’s rights to democratic participation and to equal opportunity and economic justice. Our group included Professor Abdur Razzaq, Rehman Sobhan, Mosharraf Hussain, Syed Ishtiaq Ahmed, K. G. Mustafa, and Erfan Ahmed.
Our core group began to grow as the political movement for democracy and regional autonomy gained strength. In addition to academics, other professionals – lawyers and journalists – came together to create awareness and mobilise the people’s struggle for freedom and justice. Our group included, among academics, Professor Razzaq, Dr. Khan Sarwar Murshid, Dr. Muzaffar Ahmed Chowdhury, and Professor Anisuzzaman, and among economists, Nurul Islam and Anisur Rahman. By the second half of the sixties, we projected our ideas more actively in the media, and in November 1969, we launched an English weekly, Forum. Rehman Sobhan and Hameeda Hossain took on editorial responsibility and I was the publisher. The very first issue set the tone with an article by Anisur Rahman on ‘Disparity Ascendant’ and by Rehman Sobhan on ‘Autonomy and Social Change’; amongst the journalists, Muyeedul Hasan commented on the political unparalleled intensity. Political leaders would be arrested after every meeting, released on bail, undeterred, and would hold another meeting and be arrested again. The repression mounted. Awami League leaders and workers were taken to jail. Peaceful processions in Dhaka were fired upon. This was followed by the closure of the principal newspaper, the Ittefaq, for supporting and the arrest of its editor along with party leaders, including Sheikh Mujib. Soon after this, the Bangla daily Sangbad suffered the same fate and was closed down. Again, we moved the High Court successfully. Many of us lawyers, who identified with this movement, challenged the legality of the forfeiture of the newspapers in the High Court. We also moved habeas corpus and won the cases. This is how we became more closely involved with the movement for regional autonomy.
As the movement advanced between 1966 to 1969, and the Agartala Conspiracy Case was started against Sheikh Mujib and a number of his associates on allegations of conspiracy to dismember Pakistan, several of us took up their legal defence. This brought us closer. Under pressure of the mass movement, the case was withdrawn. The uncompromising courage and dignity with which he faced the trial, which threatened his life, not only earned him unbounded respect from us but from the entire people. He emerged as a national hero; at the mass meeting, organised by students on his release, he was welcomed with honour as ‘Bangabandhu’. He obtained the mandate to participate in the Round Table Conference, and I was asked to accompany the party delegation to Islamabad as constitutional issues were to be discussed.
After Yahya announced his decision to hold elections, Bangabandhu asked me to head a committee to prepare a draft Constitution to be presented to the constitution-making body after the elections. As elections approached, Bangabandhu, while appreciating our committee’s work, suggested that I should now formally join the Awami League party and prepare to contest elections as he expected me to pilot the constitutional bill through the Constituent Assembly. He said this might mean my renouncing a successful legal practice, but he assured me the satisfaction of representing people and rendering public service would more than compensate.
As the December 1970 elections approached, a cyclone of unprecedented ferocity hit our coastal areas in November, leaving a trail of death and destruction. It was decided to suspend election preparations, and to postpone election campaigning. Instead, we were told to rush with relief to the cyclone-affected areas. Bangabandhu left, with some senior leaders, for the char areas off Bhola. On our return journey from Patuakhali, when we saw Bangabandhu’s launch anchored near Galachipa, we went to him and reported the devastation and sufferings of the victims, and the urgent need for food and drinking water; the ponds were full of dead cattle, thus making the water unfit for drinking. Tube wells were urgently needed. Thus, we were able to inform people in the country of the massive scale of the natural disaster.
As a crash course in electoral politics, I was asked to be in charge of the election campaign in Dhaka and to be Sheikh Mujib’s chief election agent. Sheikh Mujib won in two constituencies, he relinquished one, and nominated me as the Awami League candidate in the by-election for the Tejgaon Demra constituency. I was elected to the National Assembly in 1970.
Chapter 1
Historical Background
Twice within twenty-five years, in their quest for freedom and justice, the people of Bangladesh were involved in the creation of a new state. In both cases, a political leadership, drawn largely from the emerging middle class, succeeded in persuading the people, composed largely of peasants, that salvation and emancipation from exploitation could only be achieved through independence. In both cases, an alliance of different sections of the intelligentsia had supported the quest for change.
The middle class that emerged in Bengal under early British rule was in the main Hindu, urban, and English-educated. Its members owned large estates, held public offices, contributed to the world of letters, and virtually monopolised the moneylending business and trade. By the turn of the century, they were joined by a section of Muslims who had, till then, dominated the peasantry and working classes. The socio-economic structure within which the middle class began to emerge has been described thus:
The socio-economic structure of Bengal had changed so much in about a century that the 1871 census report recorded:1
Hindus, with exceptions of course, are the principal zamindars, talukdars (owners of large sub-infeudatory estates), public officers, men of learning, money lenders, traders, and (are) engaging in most active pursuits of life and coming directly and frequently under the notice of the rulers of the country; while the Musulmans, with exceptions also, form a very large majority of the cultivators of the ground and of the day labourers, and others engaged in the very humblest forms of mechanical skill and of buying and selling.
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1 R. Mukherjee, ‘The Social Background of Bangladesh’, in Kathleen Gough & Hari P. Sharma (ed.), Imperialism and Revolution in South Asia, New York, Monthly Review Press, 1973, pp. 403-04.
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A process of change began when Muslims began to avail of special facilities for education and jobs for Muslims, and a Muslim middle class began to emerge in Bengal, around the beginning of the twentieth century. The concurrent shift in the agrarian economy of Bengal helped in this growth. At the close of the nineteenth century, agricultural crops in Bengal were steadily acquiring a commodity value. Farmers with substantial holdings, which could not be cultivated solely by their family labour, started to recruit sharecroppers from the ranks of the impoverished peasants to farm their lands. Thus, a category known as jotedar (middle level landholder/ tenant farmer) emerged in rural Bengal. In the Muslim majority area of East Bengal, an appreciable number of jotedars were Muslims, and this number increased over the course of time. Since most of the jotedars could afford the cost of higher education for their sons or provide them with capital to invest in business in neighbouring towns, a large number of jotedar families forged links with the urban middle class. One or more members of the family entered other occupations, ranging from a school or college teacher, a lawyer, a doctor, a businessman, a government or civic official, to a clerk.
The impact of these social developments on the politics of Bengal has been perceptively analysed:2
It thus appeared that the emergence of a new economic structure in the first quarter of the present century would override the regional and religious distinctions of the ‘Bengali’ people. It seemed likely that the growing propertied class of Hindus and Muslims would unite in relation to the impoverished but increasingly unified Hindu and Muslim peasantry and their like, and that further changes in Bengali society would be effected primarily on the economic plane, with repercussions in the social and ideological life of the people. There were indications to support this conjecture. Leaders of the Muslim middle class, such as Moulvi A. K. Fazlul Huq and Md. Azizul Huq, organised the Krishak Praja Party (literally, Peasants’ and People’s Party). The party refrained from taking a religious or communal stand, and found members and allies among the Hindu middle class. The Hindu middle class, however, was solidly entrenched in Bengal’s economy. The corresponding Muslim interest could not compete with it even though it held political power from 1937. The urban population, the educated community, the landed interests and the bureaucracy of Bengal were still predominantly Hindu. Regionally, moreover, West Bengal (with its Hindu stronghold) held East Bengal (with its Muslim stronghold) as its hinterland. In the circumstances the Bengali Muslim middle class envisaged a quicker and easier way to further its interests by responding to the call of
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2 Ibid., pp. 406-07.
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the All-India Muslim League, which was steadily gaining strength with the demand for a Muslim homeland. Therefore, instead of pursuing only the Krishak Praja Party, Muslim leaders first aligned themselves with and later joined the Muslim League. They began to manoeuvre the Muslim peasantry (especially in East Bengal) through the influence they wielded in the countryside as jotedars and other variants of the rural elite. The Congress Party, with its core leadership representing the Hindu landed and business interests, was regarded by the Muslims as a Hindu organisation. The Communist Party and other left-wing parties were not strong enough to check the communal drift.
In the twenties and thirties, significant initiatives were taken by the middle class leadership to promote non-communal politics in Bengal. C. R. Das, as leader of the Swarajya Party, entered into an understanding with the Muslim leaders of Bengal. Under the Bengal Pact of 1923, it was agreed that the Muslims of Bengal would get separate representation in the provincial council on the basis of their population, and 55 per cent of all government posts would be reserved for them. C. R. Das’ death in 1925 was an irreparable loss for the cause of communal harmony. There is a moving testimony to this effect in Huseyn Shaheed Suhrawardy’s Memoirs. 3
Deshbandhu C. R. Das was the greatest Bengali, may I say Indian, scarcely less in stature than Mahatma Gandhi, I have ever had the good fortune to know. He was endowed with a wide vision, he was totally non-communal. I believe with many that had he lived, he would have been able to guide the destiny of India along channels that would have eliminated the causes of conflict and bitterness which had bedevilled the relationship between Hindus and Muslims, and which for want of a just solution, led to the partition of India, and the creation of Pakistan.
During this period, there were other currents entering into the political environment of Bengal. The thirties witnessed a resurgence of militant revolutionary activity. The historic Chittagong Armoury Raid, carried out by young cadres of the Jugantar party and led by Surya Sen, took place in April 1930. This was the period when revolutionaries, such as Comrade Muzaffar Ahmed, one of the founders of the Communist Party of India, and M. N. Roy, began to exert an influence on the youth of Bengal. The origins of the peasant unrest, which eventually led to the Tebhaga movement4 in the forties,
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3 Mohammad H. R. Talukdar (ed.), Memoirs of Huseyn Shaheed Suhrawardy – with a brief account of his life and work, Dhaka, The University Press Limited, 1987, p. 102.
4 Tebhaga literally means one-third. The Tebhaga movement, which involved the middle and poor peasantry of North Bengal, demanded that the jotedar’s share of the crop, due from the sharecropper, be reduced from one-half to one-third.
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have been traced back to 1939, when the first agitation by small peasants in Dinajpur district of East Bengal challenged illegal imposts levied by the jotedars and their manipulation of produce markets to the detriment of the small peasants.5
The University of Dhaka, established in 1921, became the nursery of the modern intelligentsia of East Bengal and provided leadership to the major political movements of the coming decades. Students and new graduates drawn from rural backgrounds started to grow in numbers. Their urge for greater opportunities in government, trade, commerce, and industry made them specially susceptible to the appeals of the Muslim League. In 1937, when Suhrawardy became secretary of the Bengal Muslim League and A. K. Fazlul Huq became its president, they were able to enlist the support of the bulk of the Muslim student community.6 Student demonstrations against opponents of the Muslim League became a regular feature in the coming years.
Thus, the Muslim League came to embrace, within it, contradictory elements ranging from traditionalist and conservative ‘right’ forces, as represented by the Nawab of Dhaka’s family, to new entrants into the middle class who had ‘progressive’ attitudes and an urge to promote social change.
Kamruddin Ahmad, who was one of the young ‘progressives’ describes the schism which was developing within the Muslim League, between the reactionary leadership and the progressives, thus:7
Towards the end of 1943, Abul Hashim was elected the General Secretary of the Bengal Provincial Muslim League… In his acceptance speech he declared that he would do his best to liberate the Muslim middle class intelligentsia of East Bengal from the shackles and bondage of the reactionary forces and the vested interests… With his knowledge of both Islam and Marxism he could inspire the younger generation – a generation disappointed with the reactionary leadership during the Second World War and the great famine… The Muslim League was clearly divided into left and right. The rightists were led by Maulana Akram Khan and Sir Nazimuddin, the leftists were headed by
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5 Hamza Alavi, “Peasants and Revolution,” in K. Gough & H. P. Sharma (ed.), Imperialism and Revolution in South Asia, pp. 320-325.
6 Kamruddin Ahmad, The Social History of East Pakistan, Dhaka, Crescent Book Centre, 1967, pp. 34-37.
7 Ibid., pp. 63-65. Also pp. 61-74 for details.
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Abul Hashim. The latter group began to agitate for a total abolition of rent receiving interests in land and for redistribution of cultivable land to the tillers. Suhrawardy stood on the middle of the road. The approach of Abul Hashim and his followers was never communal … They believed in jointelectorates and a democratic government. They believed in making a common front of all parties and organisations against British imperialism. They were more secular in approach than any other group of Muslim Leaguers in those days in the sub-continent.
But these ‘newly emerging forces’ within the Muslim League could not consolidate their positions. Communal passions, aroused by the riots of 1946, and a determined challenge by the rightist leadership which drew support from the party high command from outside Bengal, sent Abul Hashim into virtual retirement. His followers appeared leaderless and isolated; nevertheless, they did not withdraw from the field. According to Kamruddin Ahmad:8
The socialistic spirit introduced by Abul Hashim in the younger generation in Bengal did not vanish with his virtual retirement from the Muslim League. His group of workers had shifted their centre of activity to Dacca. They were disillusioned at what had happened and was happening in the name of religion and decided to draw the attention of the people of East Bengal to realities of life. They decided to re-dedicate themselves to the economic emancipation of the common man, to fight the evils of religious fanaticism, and to lead the country gradually but definitely towards socialism. They left the Muslim League and were working out a programme which would make the people more rational in their views. They knew all the time that the reactionary leadership which was definitely growing in strength would persecute and oppress them but they had faith in the people … Even before the actual partitioning of Bengal, leftist elements of the Muslim League resigned from that organisation and formed the People’s Freedom League. Their programme was secular and emphasised economic problems. Its formation was followed by a conference of youths and the ‘Democratic Youth League’ was set up.
Thus, as independence from British rule approached, the divisions which were to characterise the differing interests of the intelligentsia in East Bengal began to manifest themselves. The mullahs and pirs would remain a conservative and communal force; they would be utilised to foment communal sentiments and, otherwise, to act in aid of the privileged minority groups who stood to lose their privileges if secular, progressive politics were to take root. There was a small, but growing, number of government servants and professionals – lawyers, doctors, university and college teachers –
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8 Ibid., pp. 84, and 106-07.
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for whom the creation of a new state, and the departure from East Bengal of the large number of Hindus who had occupied positions of influence, meant a tremendous expansion of opportunities for personal advancement. For all but a few of this group, their main concern would be to make the most of these opportunities. There was, however, a small but significant section of the intelligentsia, consisting of students, young academics, journalists, and political workers, who had shared their ideas of social transformation in their encounters with the rural masses. They were to become the core of the opposition to the communal and rightist politics of the ruling party, and to provide leadership to the popular movements which took place in East Bengal. They formed the vanguard of the movement for recognition of Bangla as a state language. This grew into a strong cultural movement and made a seminal contribution to the growth of Bangali nationalism. Some of the young journalists whose contributions may be recalled were Serajuddin Hussain and Shahidullah Kaiser, both martyrs of 1971. Among the academics, I recall Anisuzzaman, who was then teaching at Dhaka University, and Khan Sarwar Murshid, professor of English, who edited an English journal, New Values. It was inspired by the conviction that social transformation required a change in the value system, especially where the old values were a legacy of an authoritarian, colonial, and feudal system. I was drawn to the New Values circle and often attended meetings called by Dr. Murshid.
Since the inception of Pakistan, the Bangalis found themselves in a majority, forming 56 per cent of the total population, ruled by a minority which was based in the western wing and owed its power to a feudal class and a predominantly Punjabi army. The ruling group perceived, from the very outset, that in order to preserve its interests and its power, the Bangali majority had to be neutralised. This done, Punjabi predominance in the armed forces and the bureaucracy would enable them to rule Pakistan.
Even before Pakistan formally came into existence, the nonBangalis who dominated the Muslim League leadership set about reinforcing and continuing their dominance. They engineered to replace Huseyn Shaheed Suhrawardy, an effective leader with a popular base who had led this party to electoral victory in Bengal, with Khwaja Nazimuddin, who was too weak to threaten or challenge their
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position. They also proceeded to reorganise the Muslim League party in Bengal. Iqbal Athar, a non-Bangali district officer posted in East Bengal in 1947, reported how, soon after independence, Chaudhury Khaliquzzaman, a prominent Muslim League official from headquarters who was touring the interior, confided to him that the purpose of his visit was to replace all local party committees with new committees consisting of nominees loyal to the headquarters.9
Thus, time-honoured colonial techniques through which minorities have ruled majorities, were adopted by the ruling group. The minority ruling group controlled the administration in the eastern wing by installing weak and pliable persons in positions of political responsibility, and by posting non-Bangali officers to key administrative posts. They seized every opportunity to promote disunity and division, by exploiting and accentuating factional rivalries. Six non-Bangalis were elected to seats meant for Bangalis in the Pakistan Constituent Assembly, thus diluting the latter’s effective majority in that body. Added to this was the fact that:
The Bangalis had barely five per cent representation in the armed services, 30 per cent in the bureaucracy and fifteen per cent in the entrepreneurial class. 10
A longer term measure was aimed at undermining a sense of shared Bangali identity. Bangla, the language of the majority of the people, was denied the status of a state language. This was the first of the measures to boomerang. The widespread popular anger provoked by this decision led to the start of the ‘State language movement from the university. It was at the university that Jinnah was shouted down by students when he insisted that ‘Urdu and Urdu alone shall be the language of the Pakistan State’.
The East Pakistan Muslim Students’ League was formed in 1948. The Committee of Action, formed in the same year, to press the claims of Bangla as a state language, was mainly composed of students. They also mobilised around other struggles. Many of the members of the Students’ League were arrested and expelled in 1949 because they led the agitation for a pay increase of lower-paid university employees. 11
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9 Iqbal Athar, a civil servant, related this incident to me after independence, when he opted for Bangladesh and served as our first ambassador to Italy.
10 Rounaq Jahan, Pakistan’s Failure in National Integration, Dhaka, 1973, pp. 24-25.
11 Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, who was then a first-year law student, was expelled from the university for participation in this protest and for his subsequent refusal to submit a ‘good behaviour’ bond that was demanded of him by the university authorities.
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The students were the first to organise themselves in opposition to the activities of the ruling elite. The East Pakistan Muslim Students’ League became the platform for an ever-growing politicised student community to voice their grievances against the existing order. The Awami Muslim League was founded in 1949, with Maulana Bhasani as its president, Shamsul Huq as general secretary, and Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman as joint secretary. From the beginning, the Awami League demanded a democratic set-up, with elections held in the entire country and more powers for the provinces. After the language movement of 1948, the party started a movement against the report of the Basic Principles Committee because it failed to recommend Bangla as one of the state languages of Pakistan or to prescribe provincial autonomy for East Pakistan. In 1951, the East Pakistan Youth League became a platform for a collective struggle of all political parties against the party in power. This was also the first non-communal organisation in East Pakistan, in that it opened its doors to people of all castes, creeds, and faiths. The Youth League played an important role in the Language Movement of 1952. On 21 February, as police fired upon students who were demonstrating in support of their demand for recognition of Bangla as a state language of Pakistan, four students were killed. Barkat, Salam, Jabbar, and Rafiq were among the first martyrs in the cause of their language.
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The Language Movement made a profound impact on politics and society. It led to active involvement of the youth and students in national politics and in the mass campaigns that were undertaken to mobilise support for this cause. Contact between the students and the masses provided a vital bridge between the urban and rural areas. The movement made a seminal contribution to Bangali nationalism, transcending communal barriers. The trend towards a secular political culture became evident in several developments from 1952: the founding of the East Pakistan Students’ Union in 1952; the changing of the names of the East Pakistan Muslim Student League and of the Awami Muslim League by removing Muslim’ in 1953 and 1955, respectively, and the formation of two political parties, the Ganatantri Dal in 1953 and the National Awami Party in 1957. The language movement paved the way for a vibrant cultural movement, led by many artists, singers, musicians, and litterateurs deriving inspiration from Rabindranath Tagore and Nazrul Islam and their songs. They also recognised the strong syncretic elements in Bangla folklore and music. It was in the sixties that leading TV and radio artists led protests against an information ministry order banning Rabindra Sangeet from radio and TV because these symbols were alleged to represent Hindu culture. Women TV newsreaders protested because they were forbidden from appearing with a teep (a common practice amongst Bangali women of wearing a vermilion mark on their foreheads).
Confrontation between the majority and the minority had, thus, begun in the earliest days of Pakistan. Such confrontation was to take place again early in 1954 when, in the provincial elections in East Bengal, the United Front led by Fazlul Huq, Suhrawardy, and Bhashani, campaigned for regional autonomy, conceding only defence, foreign affairs, and currency to the Centre. The Muslim League, which was seen as a party dominated by the non-Bangali ruling group, was routed. The United Front government had been in office for less than two months when it was dismissed under emergency provisions invoked by the central government. Military force was deployed to install the then defence secretary, General Iskander Mirza, as governor.
Confrontation was also to occur at the national level. In 1954, the Constituent Assembly had completed the draft of a Constitution which would have established parliamentary democracy. The Bangalis were to have a majority of the seats in the lower house of the
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proposed bicameral legislature. Before the Constitution Bill could be adopted, Governor-General Ghulam Muhammad, a Punjabi and a key member of the ruling group, dissolved the Constituent Assembly. It is not without significance that immediately after the dissolution, the central Cabinet was reconstituted to include General Ayub Khan, then commander-in-chief of the Army, as defence minister. It is also interesting that Mohammad Ali, a Bangali, whom the ruling group had earlier installed as prime minister, felt obliged to deny foreign press reports that he had been compelled to acquiesce in the dissolution under threat of proclamation of Martial Law.12
To fill the constitutional vacuum, a second Constituent Assembly was constituted in 1955 with members indirectly elected by the provincial assemblies. In this assembly, the ruling group, backed by the military, proceeded to dictate terms into the Constitution which they regarded as essential to preserve their interests. Adopted in 1956, this Constitution merged the four provinces in the western wing into one administrative unit, and provided that this One Unit would have parity of representation with the other unit, that is, East Bengal, in the central legislature. That this was done at the behest of the Punjabi minority is evident from the working paper circulated at the time by this group, which urged that:13
The main problem of constitution-making is a precise definition of the federal structure, which in effect amounts to a settlement of the relationship between East Pakistan and the provinces of West Pakistan. We cannot even enter into such a discussion…unless West Pakistan can speak as one entity…A fragmented West Pakistan has really nothing to ask of East Pakistan, because the realities of the situation in any conceivable constitution would already have given East Pakistan incontrovertible superiority.
The possibility of the domination of the central legislature, and thus the central government, by a Bangali majority strengthened by support from Baluchis, Sindhis, and Pathans, was totally unacceptable to the Punjabi ruling group. In the 1956 Constitution, through the device of One Unit and parity, the ruling group had sought to maintain Punjab’s dominance in the west while curbing the Bangali majority in the Centre.
Every attempt was made to frustrate a popular verdict. The first general election in East Bengal was held in 1954, seven years after
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12 Keesing’s Contemporary Archives, 1954.
13 Document reproduced in T. Maniruzzaman, Political Development in Pakistan, Dhaka, 1969. Appendix.
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independence. No general elections were held for the whole country. Intervention by powerful ruling groups, backed by the military, brought about changes in the composition of the central government which, in turn, sought to induct into East Bengal governments which they expected to control. Thus, Khwaja Nazimuddin was removed as prime minister, and the Constituent Assembly itself was dissolved in 1954. The Ataur Rahman government in East Bengal was replaced by the Abu Hossain Sarkar government in March 1958. As democratic forces opposing the communal politics of the Muslim League were gaining ground, the central government relied on communal politics to create divisions in East Bengal. It kept deferring the holding of general elections as the powerful interests at the Centre were apprehensive of the outcome. It is noteworthy that Suhrawardy and other political leaders, whose United Front had achieved electoral success in East Bengal in 1954, felt confident that a similar success could be achieved in the next general elections. Under continuing pressure, a general election had been promised in early 1959. This, however, was prevented by the abrogation of the Constitution and a proclamation of Martial Law in October 1958. The commander-inchief of the army, General Ayub Khan, who had been actively involved in protecting the interests of the ruling group since the early fifties, now came out into the open. A military coup was executed in October 1958. The military, not content with operating the levers from behind the scenes, now formally installed themselves as the rulers of Pakistan. With the abrogation of the 1956 Constitution, even the forms of a federal system were brushed aside. Direct administration by military governors was established.
The Martial Law of 1958 brought in authoritarian rule and, in the end, accentuated the sense of alienation amongst the Bangalis. The Constitution of 1956 was abrogated, political parties were banned, politicians indiscriminately put behind bars, and virtually all public leaders of any importance disqualified from holding elective office. The introduction of Basic Democracy in 1959, and the promulgation of a new Constitution in 1962, introduced indirect elections, a presidential form of government, and a strong centre. All these measures effectively excluded the Bangali majority from participation, if any, in the decision-making process.
The powerful minority which controlled the Centre could only continue its domination through military rule. Over the next twelve
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years, between 1958 and 1970, different schemes were devised to create divisions amongst different sections of people in East Bengal. Religious sentiments were exploited, and patronage was distributed through basic democracies and the allotment of generous credit facilities and industrial licenses, which were aimed at procuring support for the Centre-dominated political structure. It was 23 years after independence, in December 1970, that a general election was held which swept away the dominant political structure.
The first demand for people’s participation in the political process was made, in this context, in June 1962 when nine leaders of East Pakistan issued a joint statement calling for the restoration of parliamentary democracy. Their attempt to put up a combined opposition to Ayub Khan’s authoritarian rule resulted in the formation of the National Democratic Front (NDF) in October. But even before that, the students in the eastern wing had taken to the streets to register their protest against the policies pursued by the regime. The immediate cause was provided by the arrest of H. S. Suhrawardy. Soon after he was released, the students organised a widespread movement to register their rejection of the new education policy introduced by Ayub Khan. The movement was ruthlessly suppressed and several students were killed in the police firing. The challenge it threw down to the regime did not lose significance. It was for the politicians now to give the struggle a new direction in the face of adversity. With two of the most prominent East Pakistani leaders, Suhrawardy and Fazlul Huq, having died and some others having moved closer to Ayub Khan, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman decided to revive the Awami League in 1964, even at the cost of losing the section which chose to stay as a group within the opposition front, the National Democratic Movement. He decided to start a struggle for autonomy.
The ruling group, a minority, had succeeded in preserving its dominant position and successfully curbed the Bangali majority for a decade. During this period (the mid-fifties to the mid-sixties), it had consolidated its strength and used its power to advance its interests. It had also built up powerful external support by entering into military pacts with the US. During this period, a massive transfer of resources took place from the eastern wing to the western wing – for the development of the west wing. Estimated to be in the region of over US $2.5 billion, this diversion of foreign exchange, earned from
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the export of jute and jute goods, accounted for nearly 70 per cent of the country’s total export earnings.14
The military establishment, with the headquarters of all three services located in the west wing, had been expanding. The economic spread effects of increasing military expenditure accrued to the western wing. All this contributed towards the growth of economic disparity between the two wings. Bangali economists presented convincing demonstrations of discriminatory economic policies, which led to the accentuation of regional economic disparity and the transfer of resources from the eastern to the western wing. They propounded the ‘two economies’ theory.15 The issue of disparity, which this theory highlighted, became the most explosive single issue of the sixties.
When, in 1965, despite massive popular opposition, Ayub Khan manipulated to secure a 51 per cent majority in the eastern wing in an indirect election, Bangalis were convinced of the futility of efforts directed at securing their interests within the system. A conference of opposition parties was convened in Lahore in February 1966 to demand the formation of a ‘national government’. At that conference, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, speaking for the Awami League, presented for autonomy. He reflected the feelings of a significant section of Bangalis who were skeptical of securing their interests through a nominal presence in a ‘national government’. They perceived that, given the existing power structure which was dominated by the Punjabi army and bureaucracy, and backed not only by feudal interests but also by an emerging class of capitalists, to think of ‘sharing power’ in the Centre was a mere delusion. A more meaningful aim would be the transfer of power from the Centre to the region.
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14 Report of the Panel of Economists on the Fourth Five-Year Plan for Pakistan, 1970. A separate report was submitted by the Bangali economists on the panel (Nurul Islam, Anisur Rahman, Akhlaqur Rahman, and Rehman Sobhan) setting out figures to demonstrate the transfer of resources from the eastern wing to the western wing of the order of around three billion dollars.
15 Ibid.
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Chapter 2
The Six Points Programme
The outbreak of war in 1965 between India and Pakistan over Kashmir illustrated how fragile the link between the two parts of Pakistan was. Loss of men and territory in the war, with no gains to show for it, had already brought down Ayub’s stock within the army. One of the reasons was that sizeable chunks of the inhabited areas lost were in the Punjab and the soldiers who fought were from the Punjab. Following the cessation of hostilities, a meeting between Indian Prime Minister Lal Bahadur Shastri and President Ayub Khan was arranged, through Soviet efforts, in Tashkent. Ayub agreed to a joint declaration restoring peace because this would enable the return of lost territories. Instead of redeeming his position in the country, the Tashkent Declaration in fact damaged it further. To the Punjabis, it was presented as a ‘sell-out’, a measure of appeasement towards India conceded under Soviet pressure. Bhutto, who, by many and indeed by his own accounts, had been one of the men responsible for pushing General Ayub into the war, not only managed to escape from public censure for his role but began to identify himself with the antiTashkent sentiment. The old Punjabi politicians, who had been made to sit out in the wings since 1958, saw, in this situation, an opportunity to align themselves with a discontented army and to undermine President Ayub Khan.
The Bangali reaction to the war had been entirely different. The eastern wing had experienced a sense of total isolation; it felt exposed and undefended. The Tashkent Declaration was, therefore, widely welcomed by the people in East Pakistan.
It had been no consolation to hear Bhutto tell the national assembly in Dhaka, immediately after the 1965 war, in response to the Bangali grievance about the inadequacy of defence arrangements
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in the eastern wing, that the central government had not neglected the security of the eastern wing. He asserted that Pakistan had been reassured by the knowledge that the ‘greatest power in Asia’ (meaning China) would intervene in its defence if its security was endangered. Foreign ministry sources, however, disclosed that no such assurance had been extended, and that Bhutto had made an impromptu statement followed by an urgent message to China expressing the hope that the Chinese would support this statement.
The old guard Punjabi political leaders (Mushtaq Ahmad Gurmani, Chaudhury Mohammad Ali, Mohammad Daulatana, Nawabzada Nasrullah Khan, amongst others) became active in early 1966, seeking to rally opposition forces behind a demand for political concessions from Ayub and the formation of a ‘national government’. They realized that pressure could only be effective on Ayub if they could persuade Bangalis to be associated with this demand. These leaders combined together to form a common opposition front against Ayub. They were ‘confident that the army would not stand in their way, and they gave the impression that they spoke on the basis of contacts with the army. They wanted Manik Mia to persuade Sheikh Mujib, and they began to contact some of the old guard Bangali leaders, such as Nurul Amin, Hamidul Haq Chowdhury, and others. Sheikh Mujib was perceived by them to be gathering popular support. Therefore, during a visit to West Pakistan by Manik Mia (Tofazzal Hossain), the editor of the popular Bangla daily Ittefaq, they approached him to persuade Sheikh Mujib to join their front. But Manik Mia knew that the question that would be put to him in Dhaka would be whether such a change, from Ayub to a central government dominated by another set of Punjabi leaders, would redress the accumulated injustices suffered by the Bangalis. He pointedly asked whether the new set of Punjabi rulers would agree to transfer the capital, or one of the service headquarters, to the eastern wing; or, to replace parity with representation on the basis of population. To this, Mumtaz Daulatana replied, ‘Let us wrest away power from Ayub, and then we will see how to set about distributing it among ourselves’.
The Bangalis had not forgotten that these political leaders had, in their day – in the first decade of Pakistan – systematically discriminated against the Bangalis. ‘One-Unit’ and ‘Parity’ had been their brainchild. Such a front could only have some appeal for Bangalis if certain
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specific prior commitments were made to them on the question of a balance in the province-centre relationship or, in other words, on the question of regional autonomy, which the Bangalis demanded.
Soon after Manik Mia returned from his visit to Islamabad, General Ayub came to Dhaka at the end of January 1966 and invited Bangali opposition leaders to meet him. Among the leaders who were invited, apart from Sheikh Mujib, then president of the Awami League, were a number of the old guard leaders including Nurul Amin, Yusuf Ali Chowdhury, and Hamidul Haq Chowdhury. In informal consultations prior to the meeting, Sheikh Mujib decided to persuade the other Bangali leaders to agree to a common charter of demands to present to General Ayub: he further stressed that this charter should include a number of specific points defining the quantum of autonomy that the Bangalis considered to be essential to secure their interest. On this occasion, Tajuddin Ahmad, who was then the general secretary of the Awami League, formulated these demands in writing and Sheikh Mujib pressed Nurul Amin for his agreement. Nurul Amin and the older leaders baulked at putting forward what they regarded as too radical a demand, for a degree of autonomy, which could be a ‘red rag’ to General Ayub. According to them, these conditions would reduce the chances of General Ayub conceding to milder demands raised by the Punjabi leaders, such as ‘democratisation of the Constitution’, through the introduction of direct elections on the basis of universal adult franchise, a parliamentary form of government and association of opposition elements in a ‘national government’. Sheikh Mujib was firm and stated that if they were not going to commit themselves to his demands – the precursor of the Six Points – he would present these himself. The meeting with General Ayub ended in a fiasco, since Hamidul Huq Chowdhury’s claim to speaking on behalf of the Bangali leaders was quickly disowned by Sheikh Mujib. General Ayub left without any serious discussion having taken place.
A national conference of opposition leaders was convened by the emerging front of opposition leaders in Lahore on 3 February 1966. Sheikh Mujib was among the Bangali leaders invited to attend. Manik Mia pressed him to attend, for it was realized on all sides that his absence would mean that the most effective opposition force in the eastern wing would not be represented at the conference. Manik
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Mia continued to urge moderation, and attempted to persuade Sheikh Mujib to raise specific demands for autonomy. Sheikh Mujib, however, remained determined to press these points and wanted to ensure that they received proper publicity among the Bangalis. It was at this stage that the large number of recommendations that had been listed were grouped into a composite six points which became immortalised as . A written statement was prepared setting out the rationale of the programme and the arguments in its support. Subsequently, they were elaborated on in a formal statement in English, for presentation at the Lahore conference. The English draft was the work of a Bangali civil servant,
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Ruhul Quddus, who was later one of the accused in the Agartala Conspiracy Case and became secretary-general to the Bangladesh government in 1971.
With Manik Mia disinclined to project the Six Points at this point of time, Sheikh Mujib called in the late Serajuddin Hussain,1 then news editor of the daily Ittefaq, and instructed him to ensure adequate dissemination among Bangalis, as soon as he had formally presented them before the Lahore conference on 3 February 1966, since it was apprehended that the government was likely to suppress the transmission of the text over the teleprinters
When Sheikh Mujib began to present his Six Points Programme, Choudhuri Mohammed Ali, who was in the chair, ruled it out of order. He would not even allow it to be included in the agenda. Loud whispering began that was being introduced with the ‘encouragement of the government, to divide the opposition leaders and to prevent opposition unity. This whispering, it seems, could have been actively encouraged by the government, which reportedly had advance knowledge of the Bangali proposal.2
Denied the opportunity to present his proposals to the conference, Sheikh Mujib walked out and released the text of his statement to the press. The assembled opposition leaders were furious, but realised that the Bangalis, represented by Sheikh Mujib, would not go along with them in the absence of a prior commitment on the quantum of autonomy. The Lahore meeting, therefore, broke up with a clear division having emerged between the Punjabi leaders (with feeble support from old-guard Bangali leaders on the one hand) and Sheikh Mujib representing an emerging Bangali nationalism, that expressed itself in a demand for substantial regional autonomy.
The government-controlled press, initially somewhat surprisingly, provided prominent coverage to . The government was quick to appreciate and exploit the situation. By highlighting that a strong nationalist trend represented by Sheikh Mujib through his Six Points Programme had emerged among the
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1 Serajuddin Hussain was kidnapped by the Al Badr gang on 14 December 1971 and killed. His body was later identified by family in Rayer Bazar, in a ditch along with many others. He has been honoured as a freedom fighter and buried in the Freedom Fighters’ Memorial Cemetery in Rayer Bazar. His son, Reza Noor, has described the incident in several interviews.
2 S. M. Zafar, Crisis to Crisis, Lahore, 1969 and Z. A. Bhutto, Speech to the National Assembly of Pakistan on 10 March 1972, The Dawn, 11 March 1972.
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Bangalis, the government sought not only to discredit the Punjabi opposition leaders as much for their failure to forge a united eastwest opposition front as for ‘betraying’ the Punjabi interest by associating with Sheikh Mujib, whose Six Points presented a grave threat to that interest. The government in this way aimed once again to restore unity among the ‘western’ and Punjabi minority elite, which had become divided, and a section of which was seeking to secure its interest through an opposition role.
The fact that the government had advance knowledge of what Sheikh Mujib was going to present at the meeting, and that the government-controlled press initially gave wide publicity to , has led to the unfounded allegation that Sheikh Mujib had been induced by the government to present this programme so as to wreck opposition unity. Some went to the length of alleging that General Ayub’s information secretary, Altaf Gauhar, was the ghost writer of . This allegation was, of course, palpably false. Indeed, the savage repression by the Ayub government of the Six Points movement is now a part of the history of the struggle for independence in Bangladesh.
Content of the Six Points Programme
The Six Points formula for regional autonomy was set out in a written statement, which was to have been placed before the Lahore conference. It was published under the title ‘Six Points Formula – Our Right to Live’ on 23 March 1966. It was presented as a statement of ‘basic principles for a firm solution of the country’s inter-wing political and economic problems’. It was emphasised that these demands are ‘no new points invented afresh by me or any individual, but are in reality long-standing demands of the people and pledges of their leaders awaiting fulfillment for decades’.
The Six Points as formulated in this statement were: Point 1: The Constitution should provide for a federation of Pakistan, in its true sense, on the basis of the Lahore Resolution, and a parliamentary form of government with the supremacy of legislature which would be directly elected on the basis of universal adult franchise. Point 2: Federal government shall deal with only two subjects, viz: defence and foreign affairs, and all other subjects shall vest in the federating states.
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Point 3: Either of the two following measures (should be adopted) with regard to currency:
A. Two separate but freely convertible currencies for the two wings may be introduced, or
B. One currency for the whole country may be maintained. In this case, effective constitutional provisions are to be made to stop flight of capital from East to West Pakistan. A separate banking reserve is to be made, and separate fiscal and monetary policy to be adopted for East Pakistan.
Point 4: Power of taxation and revenue collection shall vest in the federating units and the federal centre shall have no such power. The federation shall have a share in the state taxes for meeting their required expenditure. The consolidated federal fund shall come out of a levy of a certain percentage of all state taxes.
Point 5: (1) There shall be two separate accounts for the foreign exchange earnings of the two wings; (2) The earnings of East Pakistan shall be under the control of the East Pakistan government, and that of West Pakistan under the control of the West Pakistan government; (3) The foreign exchange requirement of the federal government
shall be met by the two wings either equally or in a ratio to be fixed; (4) Indigenous products shall move free of duty between the two wings; (5) The Constitution shall empower the unit governments to establish trade and commercial relations and set up trade missions in, and enter into, agreements with foreign countries.
Point 6: A militia or para-military force shall be set up for East Pakistan.
Point No. 1 expressed the basic demand for a parliamentary form of government to which almost everyone was committed. It acquired special significance in the context of the fact that, in 1966, Ayub was governing under a Constitution that provided for an all-powerful president in a ‘presidential form of government. The demand for a federation ‘on the basis of the Lahore Resolution’ underlined the important point that the Resolution had contemplated – that the Muslim majority provinces would be constituted into ‘sovereign, autonomous states’.3 The Resolution, thus, provided the basis for the
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3 The Lahore Resolution which had demanded two sovereign states, was supposed to have been modified by a resolution adopted at a meeting of Muslim League legislators in Delhi in 1946. A view, strongly
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claim that the constituent units of Pakistan’, as envisaged by that resolution, would be ‘sovereign’. From this, it followed that any association between the constituent units could only be on the basis of an agreement freely and voluntarily arrived at. There could be no ‘pre-conceived’ model that could be thrust on them. Any federal government would only have such powers as were ‘conferred’ on it by the sovereign constituent units. The sovereign units were free to concede as much or as little to the federal government, and could not be compelled to cede more to it than they consented to. In forming a federation, the situation would not be one of a previously unitary system being transformed into a federal one, through devolution of certain powers on organs of the constituent units, as had taken place in British India under the Government of India Act, 1935. It would be a ‘true federation’ where the constituent units, by their common consent, created a federal government by ceding to it, or conferring on it, some of its powers. This basic position was, perhaps deliberately, obscured in the twenty-four years following the partition of India in 1947, when those who took it upon themselves to impose a Constitution for Pakistan stood things on their head by presenting the issues in terms of quantum of autonomy’ to be granted (grants of power) to the provinces, and not of ‘sovereign’, constituent units granting powers to any federal government which may be established by common agreement. No doubt the ruling minority, which had acquired control over the central government vested with substantial powers as were granted to the central government under the
ernment of India Act, 1935, found it in its own interest to protect this position. Indeed its consistent effort was to strengthen the position of the central government even further, in the name of national integration. The very fact that the Indian Independence Act had provided that until the Constituent Assembly framed a Constitution for Pakistan, the Government of India Act, 1935 would operate as a ‘provisional Constitution’ and provide the framework for relations between provinces and the Centre, contributed towards obscuring the fact that the constituent units were, in principle, ‘sovereign’ and not ‘provinces’ enjoying devolved powers handed down by the all-powerful Centre, presided over by a Viceroy as was the case in British India before 1947.
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arguing against the validity of such a modification is put forward in Kamruddin Ahmad, op.cit., pp. 71-75. The controversy is discussed in Rounaq Jahan, Pakistan, Failure in National Integration, New York, 1972, pp. 21-22
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Point No.2 provided for a two-subject, and if currency were to be included as a three-subject, centre. The antecedents to this demand were there in the Cabinet Mission Plan of 1946, which proposed a three-subject centre, entrusted only with defence, foreign affairs, and communications. The grand national assembly of democratic forces, which met in Dhaka in early 1950, also proposed a federation called the United States of Pakistan,4 in which the Centre would only deal with three subjects: defence, foreign affairs, and communications. The United Front, which had been formed by the opposition parties to contest the ruling Muslim League in the provincial elections in East Bengal in 1954, had as one of the points in its Twenty-One Point manifesto that the Constitution should provide for a federation in which the Centre would only have three subjects: defence, foreign affairs, and currency. Thus, the second point in the Six Point formula was a reiteration of what had been adopted as one of the basic points relating to the Constitution, viz. distribution of powers between the Centre and the provinces under a federal Constitution.
Point Nos. 3, 4, and 5 were specifically aimed at securing for the region – for the Bangalis – control over their own resources and the powers of managing the economy. The sense that East Bengal, despite being the majority province, had not received a ‘fair deal’ had been acutely felt since the earliest period in Pakistan. Initially, there was a feeling of being discriminated against in the allocation of federal funds, in the allocation of foreign exchange, and in the matter of recruitment to public services by the central government. From the mid-fifties through the sixties, this view was given sharper definition through the statistical and analytical demonstration of economic disparity in papers by Dr. Sadeque on ‘The Economic Emergence of Pakistan’, Rehman Sobhan on ‘Two Economies’, Dr. Anisur Rahman on ‘East and West Pakistan: A problem in the Federal Economy and Regional Planning’. The writings of other Bangali economists continued to highlight the discriminatory policies that had resulted in marked disparities in the economic development of the two wings. A conference called in August 1956 produced a report by an eminent group of Bangali economists comprising of M. N. Huda, Nurul Islam, A. F. A. Hussain, Mazharul Huq, M. T. Huq, A. Sadeque, M. A. Razzak, and M. A. Farouk.
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4 See Kamruddin Ahmad, op.cit., Appendix C.
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Federal control over economic management was perceived to be the principal instrument through which a substantial transfer of resources had taken place from the eastern to the western wing. The main thrust of the Six Points scheme was, therefore, to regionalise economic management.
The essence of the Six Points proposal had appeared as early as 1962 in a pamphlet entitled The Challenge of Disparity published in Dhaka. It had urged that the only practical measures required to redress the disparity would need certain basic institutional changes which it outlined as follows: dismantling the central planning commission and replacing it with two powerful regional planning bodies, and the bifurcation of the ministries of finance and economic affairs. The pamphlet suggested that aid requirements should be separately assessed so as to formulate a region-wise aid policy. In this recommendation lay the seeds of the idea for regionalising economic management, i.e., transfer, to the regions, the powers of taxation, of making fiscal and monetary policy, of planning and controlling resources, and of conducting foreign economic relations.
The draft of the pamphlet was prepared by Rehman Sobhan. It was one of a series published by a group formed by some of us in 1961 to draw attention to the economic, political, and social problems faced by East Bengal. We called ourselves the National Association for Social and Economic Progress (NASEP); its members included Professor Mosharraf Hossain and Badruddin Umar from Rajshahi
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University, Professor Abdur Razzaq and Rehman Sobhan from Dhaka University, Erfan Ahmed, a business executive, and I. We also drew upon young professionals and academics to engage in research and analyses with us. We published two other pamphlets on democracy and education. The first was drafted by me and the second by Professor Mosharraf Hossain.
Our writings were first published in an English language daily newspaper. We then had these reprinted as pamphlets for wider dissemination outside Dhaka, so that they could serve as resource material. The government’s intelligence department, however, became suspicious of our activities and started interrogating members of the group. While political persons read many of our pamphlets, we were not able to disseminate these widely. Many years later, I found them stored in an old trunk.
Analysis by the economists had shown that the main instruments through which the transfer of resources had been made from the eastern to the western wing were control over foreign trade, foreign exchange, and foreign aid. The bulk of the foreign exchange earned through exports of jute and jute products from East Pakistan was consistently allocated for the economic development (including industrialisation) of the western wing. Projects in the eastern wing were not promoted with foreign aid agencies with the same vigour as were projects in the western wing. Vast investments in irrigation, agriculture, and industries in the western wing had kept widening the disparity between the two wings.
It is important to understand this for when, ultimately, the Six Points formula was proposed, the most unyielding resistance offered to it related to the points involving foreign trade and aid. The ruling elite from the western wing was not prepared to relinquish the instruments through which they had been able to dominate the economy.
General Ayub’s reaction to was to threaten repression with the use of force. He labelled the programme a scheme for secession and declared that he would respond to it’with the language of weapons’.
The Awami League, sensing the mood of the Bangalis, decided to propagate amongst the people. They travelled around the country, explaining the points in detail. This inspired a mass movement to grow in its support. On 18 April 1966,
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Sheikh Mujib was arrested, and placed in detention under the Defence of Pakistan Rules on 9 May. On 7 June 1966, a special protest day was observed in support of the Six Points movement. Ayub’s government moved to suppress it with force. The demonstration was fired upon, claiming a number of lives. Large-scale arrests followed and the daily Ittefaq, the newspaper that was then the main voice of the Bangalis, was closed down, its editor arrested, and its press forfeited.
In the face of such repression, the movement suffered a setback. Our initial response was to take these matters to court – through writ petitions in the High Court. We filed a writ petition challenging the detention of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and Manik Mia in the Division Bench of the High Court consisting of three judges, Maksumul Hakim, Abdul Hakim, and Abdulla. They rejected the petition by a
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majority decision, only Abdulla, J. gave a dissenting judgment holding that to demand autonomy did not amount to action prejudicial to the security of the state. The writ petition we filed challenging the forfeiture of the daily Ittefaq press had a more chequered history. It was successful in the High Court, but the Defence of Pakistan Rules were retrospectively amended and a new order of forfeiture was issued. When this was challenged, the petition was heard before a three-member Division Bench, consisting of Justices Siddiky, Salahuddin Ahmed, and Sayem. A majority, consisting of Justices Siddiky and Salahuddin Ahmed, rejected the petition, while Sayem J. gave a dissenting judgment holding the forfeiture to be invalid. The appeal against this judgment, which was pending in the Supreme Court, was overtaken by events as the pressure generated by the 1969 movement secured the restoration of the press.
Chapter 3
From Agartala Conspiracy Case to the Round Table Conference (December 1967 to March 1969)
By the end of December 1967, the atmosphere had become tense and the air was filled with rumours. General Ayub Khan, who was in East Pakistan, suddenly cancelled his planned visit to the Dawood Complex in Chandraghona, in the Chittagong Hill Tracts. Rumour spread that the cancellation was due to apprehensions about an assassination or kidnapping plot. That the cancellation had been a last-minute one was evident from the fact that Chittagong and the road to Chandraghona had been suitably decorated for the presidential motorcade, but no motorcade had passed along that route.
Some time in the last week of December, my friend and colleague, Amirul Islam, came to see me and confided that he had interviewed a client in jail who complained of having been subjected to severe torture and showed marks of torture on his body. His client told Amirul Islam that he was pressed to implicate persons in a ‘conspiracy’ case under torture. Amirul Islam was very worried and sought my advice as to what he should do. I suggested that steps should be taken immediately to bring this to the attention of the High Court. That same afternoon, we moved a petition in the High Court, alleging torture and asking for a medical board to examine the victim. The petition aroused great interest, and the Court was persuaded to constitute a medical board. The person in question was Kamaluddin Ahmed, a naval commando who was later to become approver No.1 in the ‘Agartala Conspiracy Case’.
A few days later, the administration started making a series of arrests. Ahmed Fazlur Rahman, Ruhul Quddus, Shamsur Rahman
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Khan, senior Bangali members of the Pakistan Civil Service, and a number of Bangali armed forces personnel were arrested. Ahmed Fazlur Rahman was the first of the accused in the Agartala Conspiracy Case to seek a lawyer’s interview, and requested me to represent him. I met him in jail sometime between the last week of December 1967 and the first week of January 1968. He told me that, immediately after his arrest, he had been taken to an apartment in the new residential area of Banani in Dhaka, where he was continuously interrogated for several days. The interrogators wanted him to implicate certain persons in a conspiracy’ case.
More arrests were made and the atmosphere continued to grow tense. Indeed, even lawyers acting for the arrested persons felt vulnerable to arrest. Barrister K. Z. Alam approached me to move an application on behalf of Lieutenant-Commander Moazzem Hossain, a Bangali serving in the Pakistan Navy. We had decided that different lawyers should appear for each of the arrested persons as a common legal front would imply links between these persons, an impression which should be avoided in a ‘conspiracy’ case. Ishtiaq Ahmed had then taken up Lieutenant-Commander Moazzem Hossain’s case. Kamaluddin Hossain, Ruhul Quddus’ brother-in-law, had filed the latter’s petition. I moved the petition for Ahmed Fazlur Rahman. When the petitions were moved in the High Court, the government lawyers stated that some investigations were proceeding against these persons. The first of the government press reports, issued in early January, did not name Sheikh Mujibur Rahman as an accused. He was named as the principal accused for the first time in the official press release of 18 January 1968.
For the next five months, the entire case was covered in a blanket of secrecy. No information was given about the location of the accused who had, by then, been shifted from jail and placed in military custody. An ordinance was promulgated in April 1968 to provide for trial by a Special Tribunal, which consisted of S. A. Rahman, Judge of the Supreme Court, and two Bangali High Court Judges, M. R. Khan and Maksumul Hakim. The main evidence presented was the testimony of approvers who, when produced at the trial, alleged torture and turned into ‘hostile’ witnesses.
Some time after the trial had commenced, Tom Williams QC, MP, a British barrister engaged by Bangalis in London, arrived in Dhaka
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to join the team of defence counsel. Since there was already a full team of trial lawyers, led by Abdus Salam Khan, it was arranged that Tom Williams should conduct the cross-examination in the trial for one or two days and that, thereafter, he would move a writ petition in the High Court. I drafted the writ petition, assisted Williams, and appeared with him when he moved the petition in the High Court. A rule was issued but no interim order was made. In the meantime, Williams complained of being continuously shadowed by the police and intelligence men. His car was followed, and worse was to come later when his room was broken into and his luggage and papers ransacked. He was also served with a demand for payment of inco tax. Tom Williams had suffered much harassment during his week’s stay and it was therefore agreed that he should return to England. His visit and participation in the case had served the purpose of drawing international attention to the case. Peter Hazelhurst, the correspondent of the London Times, helped by sending a series of reports on the case and, in particular, on the harassment to which Tom Williams had been subjected.
The progress of the case, and the daily publication of the verbatim proceedings of the trial, generated a high degree of popular interest in the case. The Ayub government may have thought that this case would discredit Sheikh Mujib but, on the contrary, it had exactly the opposite effect. It evoked sympathy, as Sheikh Mujib presented the image of a leader who was victimised for championing the cause of the Bangali people. The grievances of the Bangalis also received extensive publicity and contributed towards heightening their sense of injustice.
While the proceedings continued, Ayub had been seriously ill since the early part of 1968. This had weakened his grip on the administration. Speculation about a possible successor had begun. The Army commander-in-chief, General Yahya Khan, and ambitious men in the wings, such as Bhutto, saw an opportunity for themselves in Ayub’s debility.
Towards the end of 1968, as grievances accumulated in both wings, objective conditions were ripe for a popular movement against Ayub. In November 1968, an incident of harassment of students by law enforcement officers in Peshawar triggered demonstrations causing injury to some students. Bhutto, who was then in Rawalpindi, capitalised on this incident to mobilise popular protests.
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In the first week of December 1968, at the end of a public meeting in Dhaka, Maulana Bhashani gave a call for a hartal (strike) on 8 December. The hartal was widely observed and galvanised popular forces in the eastern wing. Political leaders met to discuss further steps. Another province wide hartal was called on 13 December. At a time when the proclamation of emergency was in force in the country, with the full vigour of the military to back it and with the entire resources of the government deployed to frustrate the hartal, its total success demonstrated the extent of popular opposition to the government. The students, who had always been the militant and activist elements, responded rapidly to this situation and organised themselves to lead a popular movement. A Students’ Action Committee was formed with representatives of leading student organisations (Chhattro League and Chhattro Union) in East Pakistan. It was the formation of this committee that brought Tofail Ahmed, then vice president of the Dhaka University Central Students Union (DUCSU), into prominence as he was made the convener of this committee.
The Students’ Action Committee produced an Eleven Points Charter of demands. Indeed, a breakdown of the Eleven Points Programme would show that point no.1 alone included more than fifteen separate demands relating to different aspects of education, ranging from ‘tuition fees must be reduced by 50 per cent, ‘polytechnic students must be offered facilities of a condensed course’, to such general demands as ‘the mother tongue must be used as a medium of instruction at all levels of education’, and ‘education must be made compulsory and free up to class VIII’. These were followed by political and economic demands. The substance of of the Awami League was fully endorsed, though with some interesting changes in formulation. The Eleven Points Charter of demands called for:
• Full regional autonomy to be given to former provinces and the formation of a sub-federation in the western wing. Implicit in this was a demand for the dissolution of One Unit.
• Repeal of repressive laws and release of political prisoners. Significantly, the withdrawal of the Agartala Conspiracy Case was demanded.
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• In foreign affairs, withdrawal from CENTO, SEATO, and ‘Pakistan-US military pacts’ and formulation of a ‘neutral and independent foreign policy’.
• In the economic sphere, nationalisation of banks, insurance companies, and all major industries including jute; reduction of tax and land-revenue for writing-off arrears and loans outstanding from peasants.
• Minimum price of Rupees 40 per maund of jute.
• Fair wages and various welfare benefits for industrial workers together with repeal of ‘anti-worker black laws’.
• Flood control measures.
Thus, Eleven Points Programme articulated by the students became a comprehensive charter of demands, which galvanised the students to launch their movement.
Such a comprehensive charter of demands was significant on more counts than one. The inclusion of the substance of meant that that not only were these the demands made by one political party, but that having enlisted support from all the major student groups – who had divergent political affiliations – it had evolved into a national charter of political demands for East Bengal. By spelling out the economic demands, the students were ensuring that any successful political struggle must also adopt economic reforms in the interests of the people. The charter also identified an independent and non-aligned course as a goal of foreign policy. Although the Eleven Points were enunciated by the students, they drew wide support from other sections of the people.
The political leaders, in the meantime, were holding consultations to chart out their course of action. They maintained close contact with the students. With Sheikh Mujib and the front rank Awami League leaders in jail, it was left to Syed Nazrul Islam to represent the party in deliberations with other opposition leaders. Following a successful hartal on 6 January, the opposition leaders from both the east and west wings – representing the Awami League, the Krishak Sramik Party, the National Awami Party (Requisitionist), the Awami League (PDM), the Council Muslim League, the Jamaat-e-Islami, the Nizame-Islam, and the National Democratic Front met in Dhaka January
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Air Marshal Asghar Khan, the former head of the Pakistan Air Force, demonstrated his active support for the pro-democracy movement. He came to Dhaka at this point and joined in the demonstrations in front of the Baitul Mukarram mosque. He called on Begum Mujib at her residence, where he also met with several senior political leaders. I personally recall the strong support he expressed for the withdrawal of the Agartala Case and for the release of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman and the other detainees.
The government had collapsed in the face of intense agitation. In the countryside, local action committees had virtually replaced the law enforcing agencies. In the urban areas, student leaders were invited to settle disputes between management and workers – relating to the latter’s demands for higher wages and better working conditions.
Popular agitation in the western wing had also gathered momentum. It was clear that Ayub’s government, which only a few months earlier had celebrated the completion of its ‘decade of development under the army, was now under heavy pressure from all sections of people.
I returned from a meeting of the Central Bar Council in Karachi in early 1969 to find that the leaders were still unable to reach an agreement on a common charter of demands. The main obstacle to agreement arose from the unwillingness of the Punjabi leaders to endorse the Six Point autonomy formula. There was also reluctance to press for withdrawal of the Agartala Conspiracy Case. The Awami League leaders insisted upon the inclusion of these points in the common charter as a condition for their participation in the Democratic Action Committee, which was being proposed as a united opposition strategy.
These deliberations reflected the divergence in the aims of the political leaders of the two wings. This divergence was glossed over at this stage by including a common demand for a ‘federal parliamentary government’. The Eleven Points Programme, on the basis of which the students had launched their popular movement, however, had already incorporated the substance of the Six Points as an integral part of their programme.
The popular movement continued to escalate. The newly formed Democratic Action Committee called for a ‘National Protest Day’ on 17 January. It had decided, if necessary, to violate any orders prohibiting processions under Section 144 of the Criminal Procedure Code. Indeed,
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the Democratic Action Committee leaders assembled in front of Baitul Mukarram in the centre of the city and, symbolically, violated the order under Section 144. Asghar Khan participated in the rally and became the target of the riot police who sprayed the demonstrators with coloured water. The significance of this demonstration was that it was the first time that political leaders committed to constitutional politics had, by a deliberate act, violated the law. Students who represented the militant wing of the popular movement were not content with symbolic defiance. A massive procession of students set out from the university and was confronted by the police in front of Dhaka Medical College Hospital. The police opened fire upon the procession and killed a young student of the university, named Asad.
After Asad was struck down on 17 January 1969 the leadership of the movement was virtually assumed by the Students’ Action Committee, in place of the Democratic Action Committee. Despite the proclamation of emergency in force, massive demonstrations and processions became the order of the day. Police firing claimed further lives and the military was deployed to aid the police. Practically every order of the law enforcing agencies was met with defiance, the curfew imposed in the cities was violated every now and then, and, in some cases, resistance was put up against the army. Under the pretext of enforcing law and order the army resorted to indiscriminate firing that killed, amongst others, a schoolboy – Motiur Rahman – in a procession in Dhaka, a housewife in her house, a child on her mother’s lap and Professor Shamsuzzoha – a Rajshahi University professor – within the Rajshahi University campus.
The blood of martyrs is the most powerful fuel for popular movements, and Asad became a symbol of political protest. In fact, after independence, what was Ayub Gate in Mohammadpur area was renamed as Asad Gate. In the coming weeks, more names would be added to the list of martyrs.
It was at about this time that I met Manzur Quader (constitutional adviser to General Ayub) in connection with a case. He had come to Dhaka as the chief prosecutor in the Agartala Conspiracy Case. He was overawed by the mounting agitation. I took the opportunity to urge upon him that the Ayub government should read the writing on the wall and concede to the popular demands rather than be guilty of offering the people too little, too late. He reacted by saying that he
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would press Ayub to concede to popular demands but, having said this, fell back to a defence of the 1962 Constitution of which he was the architect. He went to the length of claiming that the 1962 Constitution had created conditions that had contributed to the launching of the present agitation, and thus seemed to claim credit for the popular awakening!
Ayub Khan, faced with turbulence in both parts of Pakistan, announced in his first-of-the-month broadcast on 1 February 1969 that he would invite opposition political leaders for talks. These proposed talks came to be known as the ‘Round Table Conference’. Ayub addressed a letter to Nawabzada Nasrullah Khan, as the representative of the Democratic Action Committee, inviting the opposition leaders for talks in Rawalpindi on 17 February 1969.
This move was seen to reflect the strength of the popular movement and the growing weakness of Ayub’s regime. The Democratic Action Committee called for the revocation of emergency rule and the release of all political prisoners as a prerequisite condition for discussions at the negotiation table. In this context, the withdrawal of the Agartala Conspiracy Case and the release of Sheikh Mujib acquired particular urgency. The most important component of the Democratic Action Committee in East Pakistan, the Awami League, made it clear that the withdrawal of the case and the release of Sheikh Mujib would mark its minimum condition for joining the talks. The Punjabi leaders of the Democratic Action Committee, and indeed some of the old guard Bangali leaders, showed some ambivalence about pressing for withdrawal of the Agartala Conspiracy Case and the release of Sheikh Mujib during discussions with the Awami League. They hinted at legal difficulties and urged that the release of Sheikh Mujib and the withdrawal of Agartala Conspiracy Case could be negotiated during the talks. It was clear that their opposition mainly stemmed from their realisation that Sheikh Mujib’s participation meant that would become central to any negotiated political settlement. However, it was, realised, particularly by the other Bangali leaders, that any attempt on their part to arrive at a settlement, by-passing the Six Points demands or Sheikh Mujib, would be repudiated by the Bangali people. The Awami League continued to be firm about Sheikh Mujib’s release as a precondition for participation. Under such pressure, the Democratic Action
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Committee raised this matter with Ayub. The latter parried by saying that since Sheikh Mujib was under trial, it involved ‘legal difficulties’.
I was in close touch with the opposition leaders and in particular with Manik Mia, editor of the popular Bangla daily Ittefaq. I had grown close to him in June 1966 when he was detained and the newspaper banned for supporting . I had been engaged to take up these cases in the High Court. Manik Mia’s
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house was the meeting place of the opposition leaders and, in particular, of the political and student leaders. Manik Mia attached importance to Sheikh Mujib’s release and to his participation in the Round Table Conference. In discussions with him, I indicated that legal steps could be taken to challenge the legality of the trial and thereby create further pressure for the release of Sheikh Mujib.
While all this was under way, I received a message that Sheikh Mujib wanted me to go and meet him during his trial. The following day, I hastened to meet him in the courtroom. Sheikh Mujib was annoyed by veiled suggestions that he should yield to the pressure being exerted him to join the Round Table Conference even if the case against him and others was not withdrawn. He urged me to formally appear as his defence counsel and to actively pursue legal steps to challenge the validity of the trial. He also agreed that I should request the assistance of A. K. Brohi (an eminent lawyer from Sindh) who had appeared in the Ittefaq case and signed a vakalatnama1 for that purpose. I acted upon these instructions.
I was overwhelmed by the confidence shown in me by Sheikh Mujib in instructing me to act on his behalf. I immediately contacted Mr Brohi, with whom I had worked previously in other constitutional cases, and obtained his consent to advise and take necessary action.
With the political movement acquiring greater and greater strength, the police, and indeed Governor Monem Khan and his civil administration, began to recede into the background. It was General Muzaffar-ud-din, the general officer commanding, who conspicuously began to appear as the representative of the Islamabad authorities. It also seemed that Yahya, the commander-in-chief of the Army had begun to seek a direct assessment of the situation in East Pakistan through his general officer commanding. I recall meeting General Muzaffar-ud-din in January with Manik Mia, when he impressed upon the latter that Yahya had asked him for an appreciation of the situation and he believed that a political solution should be attempted. He undertook to convey Manik Mia’s views to Yahya. It seemed very significant that Yahya, who was commander-in-chief, had already begun to take what appeared to be independent initiatives. The importance of the withdrawal of the Agartala Conspiracy Case was that Sheikh Mujib would then be free to negotiate a political
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1 A legal document by which a person appoints a lawyer as his attorney.
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settlement with the authorities. This was impressed upon General Muzaffar-ud-din who, almost within 24 hours, reported that he had conveyed the points made to him to Yahya and that the latter had indicated that this would be considered if a legal way could be found for Sheikh Mujib’s release.
I was urged by Manik Mia to take legal measures to question the legality of the trial. With this end in view, I flew to Karachi for legal consultations with Mr. Brohi on 14 February. A nation-wide strike had been called for the day on which I arrived, and I was impressed to see that life was completely paralysed in Karachi. I had to walk, on foot, from the hotel to Mr. Brohi’s residence. Mr. Brohi readily agreed to help in formulating a legal attack challenging the validity of the trial but said that he must come to Dhaka to examine all the papers, including the evidence recorded so far in the case. I flew to Dhaka the same evening and Mr. Brohi arrived the following morning. In examining the papers, we found strong arguments to challenge the legal validity of the trial. These included inconsistency of the ordinance setting up the Tribunal, with the provisions of the Constitution; it clearly violated the requirement of equality before the law and manifested a discriminatory approach.
By now, it was clear that the proclamation of emergency was about to be revoked. At the revocation of that proclamation, fundamental rights provisions of the 1962 Constitution would once again become operative. As soon as this happened, we would argue that the trial could not proceed on the grounds that the Special Tribunal, with its special procedures, violated the fundamental right guaranteeing equality before the law, and equal protection of the law, to all citizens. We drafted a notice to be served on the government, calling for the withdrawal of the case and for the release of Sheikh Mujib and the other accused. Mr. Brohi and I personally handed this notice over to Manzur Quader. The latter agreed that there was substance in the points raised and immediately undertook to contact General Ayub on the telephone.
While we were discussing this matter with Manzur Quader, he received a telephone call and appeared visibly agitated. He informed us that he had just been told that Sgt. Zahurul Haq, one of the accused in the Agartala Conspiracy Case, had been shot dead by a military guard and that two other accused persons, including Flight
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Sgt. Fazlul Haq, had been injured. Manzur Quader’s agitation showed that he understood the gravity of the situation. It was clear that there would be popular outrage as soon as this news became public. We impressed, upon Manzur Quader, the urgency of the need to comply with the notice served on him.
I was personally very upset because Sgt. Zahurul Haq was the brother of advocate Aminul Haque (a freedom fighter who was to become attorney-general in 1990), a close friend and colleague of mine. I had assured his brother that I would appear in court on his behalf.
Zahurul Haq’s funeral was fixed for the afternoon. Immediately after the janaza (funeral prayers) at Paltan Maidan, I went with a number of friends to the Azimpur burial ground. We waited for at least two hours but the body had still not arrived, which was a cause for considerable concern. In the meantime, we learnt that some processionists, while trying to get flowers from the garden of a minister’s house, had been fired upon. Some of the processionists, outraged by this, had attacked the houses occupied by the minister, and followed it with attacks on other official residences. The house occupied by the presiding judge of the Agartala Conspiracy case had been set alight. Immediately after the burial, I went to the hotel where Mr. Brohi was staying, in order to discuss actions that we needed to take in light of the dramatically deteriorating situation.
I saw the houses that had been set on fire as I drove towards the Intercontinental Hotel. It showed how the pent-up anger was beginning to erupt in violent protests. The space for a peaceful resolution was fast dissipating.
I found Manzur Quader with A. K. Brohi. He said that he had already spoken to Rawalpindi but had received no reply. Manzur Quader was emphatic that it was no longer realistic to expect the trial to continue in view of the popular emotions released by the death of Sgt Zahurul Haq, which had already led to the burning of the residence of the presiding judge. He made a philosophical point, that the object of a trial was to convince the public that an accused person was guilty and, therefore, justice demanded that he be punished. In a case where the public had already made up its mind that the accused were not only ‘not guilty’ but were ‘heroes’, as was evident from their behaviour, there was little point in continuing with the trial. It was agreed that both Manzur Quader and Brohi would leave for
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Rawalpindi the following morning and pursue the matter of the legal notice served on the government to withdraw proceedings and to release Sheikh Mujib and the other accused persons. Two days had already passed and no response had been received. After Brohi reached Karachi, he informed me over the telephone that the law ministry was still studying our legal notice.
Obviously the Round Table Conference could not start on 17 February and, in view of the mounting tension, it was suggested that a few of us should travel to Rawalpindi to make further efforts to secure Sheikh Mujib’s release. Tajuddin Ahmad, who had just been released from jail, Amirul Islam, and I were to pursue this matter in Rawalpindi. We reached there on 17 February. An air of crisis prevailed since Sheikh Mujib had not been released and, consequently, the Democratic Action Committee was unable to sit at the conference table with Ayub. Manzar Bashir, an advocate who was associated with the opposition, volunteered to see the law minister, Zafar, late at night to learn the government’s position. It was almost midnight when I was informed that we could see Zafar the next morning. Zafar made some noises about ‘legal difficulties’ but when pressed to spond to the legal notice, he said it was not only a matter of law but of a political decision at the highest level.
We impressed upon him that the notice merited a clear reply and that this should be given without further delay. He replied that the Cabinet was to consider the matter the same morning and that he would let us have a reply by midday. He also asked for a further notice or a summary of the notice, to be given to him. We sent him a fresh notice within an hour. At around 12.30 pm, Zafar telephoned to request me to meet him at his hotel. He reported that after protracted discussions, the Cabinet had decided in the negative, namely that they could not accede to the demand contained in the notice for withdrawal of the Agartala Case. I expressed my indignation to Zafar, and told him that the failure of the government to comprehend the gravity of the situation was truly disconcerting. I shared my disappointment with Manzur Quader, who had joined us. He, too, expressed displeasure at the negative attitude of the government. He said he would talk to me later in the afternoon after speaking to Zafar.
That afternoon Manzur Quader telephoned and asked me to see him in his hotel room. I had barely entered his room when Zafar
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arrived. They – Manzur Quader and S. M. Zafar – proposed that the government would be ready to make an announcement that Sheikh Mujib could join the Round Table Conference as ‘a free man’. When asked to clarify the legal position, Zafar was reticent and said that this was the only formula he could persuade the government to accept. They urged that I should convey this to Sheikh Mujib. I told them very clearly that this would not be acceptable and the delay would only lead to a further deterioration of the situation.
Tajuddin Ahmad, Amirul Islam, and I flew from Lahore to Dhaka, via Karachi, as that was the only route by which Dhaka could be reached. We were met by Asghar Khan at Lahore airport and by A. K. Brohi at Karachi airport. Both expressed their dissatisfaction at the negative response of the government. Manzur Quader had assured me, before our departure, that he would try to see Ayub once again during the course of the evening, to press him to accept the demand contained in our legal notice.
It was the night of 18.19 February. We telephoned Manzur Quader from Karachi airport to learn what had happened. He explained that he had been waiting all evening to meet Ayub but was told that Ayub was engaged in a meeting. He expressed his amazement at the fact that Ayub was still closeted in a meeting, even though it was past midnight, and said that it was perhaps the only time when he was being prevented from seeing Ayub despite his request. He confided that, in the circumstances, it seemed that a very extraordinary meeting was taking place.
It later transpired that this was the fateful meeting at which Ayub had called in his three service chiefs. Ayub urged them to support the proclamation of Martial Law and to deploy the military to suppress the popular movement. The service chiefs refused to go along. Obviously, Ayub had become a political liability and, as events were to show, Yahya had his own ambitions. If the army had to be used to suppress the people, it would do so to serve the ambitions of Yahya and the coterie around him and not those of Ayub and his collapsing government.
G. W. Chowdhury, Yahya’s adviser, has corroborated this version of events in his reports on the meetings between Ayub and the armed forces leaders in February 1969 as follows:
As I gathered from Yahya himself after I joined his Cabinet in 1969, a series of meetings between Ayub and the top armed forces leaders took place in
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February 1969. This account was also substantiated by General Akbar and by some members of the Presidential House staff, who can sometimes provide a better account of the ‘inside story’. The chiefs of the army, air force, and navy and their aides had joint and separate meetings with Ayub. The most crucial meeting took place in mid-February when the three chiefs (General Yahya, Air Marshal Nur Khan, and Vice-Admiral Ahsan) were to tell Ayub to work for ‘a political settlement’ and not to rely on the military forces to suppress the revolutionary movement. The most interesting part of this crucial conference was: who was to break the unpleasant truth to the boss? There was pause, hesitancy, and silence. Ahsan of the navy would not take the initiative, as he wanted to maintain his posture of neutrality; for Yahya it was a delicate time – Ayub had made him commander-in-chief, bypassing a few senior generals. Ultimately, the task fell to the outspoken chief of the air force, Nur Khan. The army chiefs agreed to use the armed forces only to the minimum extent needed to keep the administration functioning and prevent the situation from being exploited by any foreign country, presumably India.2
For Ayub, the advice to seek a political solution must, no doubt, have come as a shock. After being the unchallenged chief of the armed forces for the last 18 years (1950-68), he was being repudiated by them. He is reported to have told a visiting dignitary, ‘Perhaps they are now tired of seeing my face’.3
While this abortive encounter was taking place between Ayub Khan and the service chiefs unknown to us, my colleagues and I were travelling to Dhaka to report to Sheikh Mujib on what had transpired in Rawalpindi.
Immediately on arrival at the airport, Manik Mia received us and we proceeded to the cantonment. When Sheikh Mujib was told of Zafar’s proposal, that he could proceed to Rawalpindi on the basis of an announcement that he was a ‘free man’, Sheikh Mujib immediately rejected it as an unacceptable proposition. He asked how it would be possible for him to leave on this basis as his position would be that of a fugitive from custody and people would be free to shoot him down, as they had shot Zahurul Haq. He said a legal notice had already been served challenging the legality of the trial, and it was for them to accept it. Also, he would not countenance walking out while the other accused remained in custody.
As Tajuddin Bhai, Amir, and I flew back, we shared our worry at the consequences of the government’s obstinacy and failure to take
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2 G. W. Chowdhury, The Last Days of United Pakistan, The University Press Limited, Dhaka, 1998, p. 35.
3 Ibid.
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steps that could help in moving towards negotiations. We understood and respected the position taken by Sheikh Mujib. It required both courage in the face of the threats to his life, which were being hinted at and in the wake of the killing of Sgt. Zahurul Haq in custody, and also a higher sense of responsibility as the leader and principal spokesman of the people.
I informed General Muzaffar-ud-din of Sheikh Mujib’s response. General Muzaffar-ud-din said that he would speak to Zafar over the telephone. Zafar was then told that the formula suggested by him was unacceptable to Sheikh Mujib and, unless the government complied with the notice, we would proceed with the matter in the High Court and seek an order of release. Zafar said that he would telephone after some time. He telephoned to say that the High Court procedure would be time-consuming and, instead, the Tribunal could be asked to grant an interim order to release Sheikh Mujib and this would be in the nature of a release on bail.
Sheikh Mujib was informed of this development. He said that there was no question of his applying for bail. In the meantime, the two Bangali judges of the Special Tribunal had been brought to the cantonment along with one of the prosecuting lawyers. They proposed that Sheikh Mujib be released on bail.
Amirul Islam went to Sheikh Mujib to inform him of this development. Sheikh Mujib firmly rejected the proposal to release him on bail; he was infuriated by a radio report, which had been broadcast while Amirul Islam was talking to him, to the effect that Sheikh Mujib had agreed to be released on bail. I met with Sheikh Mujib immediately, when he confirmed that he would not accept anything less than an unconditional withdrawal of the case and the release of all the accused persons. I remember how he dismissed, with contempt, the threats to his life that were being conveyed to him by the government representatives who visited him.
Khwaja Shahabuddin and Admiral A. R. Khan, members of Ayub’s Cabinet, had arrived in Dhaka. As I was leaving Sheikh Mujib, after reporting to him that we had told the Tribunal of his position, Admiral A. R. Khan and Khwaja Shahabuddin were seen entering the room to talk to Sheikh Mujib. It was clear that Ayub was floundering. In retrospect, it is evident that the service chiefs had made it clear to him that a military option was no longer open to him. He, therefore,
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had to negotiate with the political leaders. This option was only available to him if Sheikh Mujib were to be released, since negotiations excluding him would have little relevance so far as the eastern wing was concerned.
Hearing that Sheikh Mujib might be released that evening, thousands of people had started marching down Airport Road towards the cantonment, shouting slogans of Jailer tala bhangbo, Sheikh Mujibke anbo (We will break the jail locks, we will bring Sheikh Mujib out of jail). General Muzaffar-ud-din, at that point, expressed his sense of alarm to us – that if the processionists entered the cantonment, it could lead to an unnecessary confrontation with armed military personnel and could become another Jalianwallah Bagh. He did not want to be responsible for such an eventuality. He, therefore, proposed that since Sheikh Mujib was firm in his refusal to be released on bail, he w send out vehicles with loudspeakers to announce that Sheikh Mujib was not being released that evening but that he would be honourably returned home the next day. His appeal had the desired effect of calming the processionists, who then dispersed without seeking to force their way into the cantonment.
The next morning, at about 11.30 a.m., a report swept through Dhaka that Sheikh Mujib was released. I was informed over the telephone and rushed to his residence to find that he had, indeed, been released and driven to his residence by a senior military officer. The radio broadcast declared that the trial was constitutionally invalid and, therefore, the entire trial had to be abandoned. The formula, which had been given in our legal notice to the government, had, in fact, been accepted. It was truly a victory of the people’s movement.
Sheikh Mujib emerged as a national hero, and the unquestioned leader of the mass movement, in East Bengal. He took the position that he would only consider going to Rawalpindi for the Round Table Conference after he had addressed a public meeting in Dhaka and received the people’s mandate. The students continued to play a very active part in the movement and were, thus, able to radicalise the Awami League position. At a mammoth public meeting of over a million, organised by the Sarbadaliya Chhattra Sangram Parishad (All Parties Students Action Committee) at the Racecourse (known today as the Suhrawardy Uddyan) on 23 February, Sheikh Mujib was given a rousing welcome. He pledged his commitment to for regional autonomy, and also to the Eleven
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Points Programme. The students pledged their support to his Six Points autonomy demand and acclaimed him as Bangabandhu (the friend of Bengal). Large numbers had poured in, from all over the city and beyond, to listen to Sheikh Mujib. We felt empowered by this massive demonstration of unity. It was, indeed, an event of historic significance.
When Sheikh Mujib said he would go to the Round Table Conference to place forth the demands of the Bangali people, he took a pledge that if the demands were not accepted, he would return and continue the movement and would not compromise.
Chapter 4
The Round Table Conference
(February to March 1969)
Bangabandhu, accompanied by several party leaders, left for Rawalpindi to join the opening session of the Round Table Conference on 6 March 1969. He asked me to accompany the delegation. By a curious coincidence, Bhutto and Bangabandhu were travelling by the same plane from Dhaka to Lahore. Bhutto and his colleagues were in first class, while Bangabandhu and his delegation were travelling in economy class. This gave the Sheikh an opportunity for an obvious dig – that the Awami League was really the party of the people while the People’s Party was the ‘big people’s party’. Bhutto had met Bangabandhu in Dhaka, and taken the position that he would not go to the Round Table Conference (RTC) as he felt that it was bound to fail. It is noteworthy, in this context, that Maulana Bhashani had taken the same position. I recall the meeting between Nawabzada Nasrullah and Maulana Bhashani in February when the Maulana, while reiterating that he would not go to the RTC, had wished it success, and even raised his hands and prayed for it success.
At Lahore airport, separate groups had come to receive Bhutto and Bangabandhu. Air Marshal Asghar Khan and General Azam Khan were among those who received Bangabandhu. Bhutto suggested that Bangabandhu and he should step down from the plane together, but those who had come to receive the latter opposed this action. Bhutto, therefore, disembarked from the plane and boarded a truck, which was followed by a substantial crowd as it left the airport. Bangabandhu and his party came down a little later and, followed by another large crowd, left in a separate procession towards the city, where a short stop-over had been arranged at the residence of Malik Ghulam Jilani. He had been an outstanding opposition leader and an
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uncompromising opponent of Ayub’s Martial Law regime. He had supported the Awami League and had been detained by Yahya Khan in 1971. The Awami League, had some support in West Pakistan; some of the local Awami League members had come to the airport
A Democratic Action Committee (DAC) had been formed by eight political parties in early January 1969. These were the Awami League (Six Points), the National Awami Party (NAP Requisitionist), the Council Muslim League, the Pakistan Democratic Movement (PDMAwami League), the Nizam-e-Islam Party, the Jamaat-e-Islami, the Jamiatul-ulema-i-Pakistan, and the National Democratic Front (NDF). Originally launched to press for the restoration of certain democratic rights as a pre-condition for participation in the projected elections, the DAC was committed to two basic constitutional demands: (1) the establishment of a federal parliamentary system of governance, (2) direct elections on the basis of universal adult franchise. Both these involved amendments to the 1962 Constitution.
The convenor of DAC, Nawabzada Nasrullah Khan, had received a formal invitation to the conference from Ayub. The inherently conflicting interests, ‘united’ to form DAC, began to surface the moment it was clear that Ayub could no longer retain power and that a new constitutional dispensation was a real possibility.
A review of the RTC shows how far the components of the DAC representing the ruling groups, were willing to go towards conceding to popular demands, and yet how reluctant they were to agree to constitutional arrangements which would meet the demands of East Pakistan and the minority provinces but would mean a curtailment of their own powers. This attitude was reflected in their initial reluctance to even discuss the question of regional autonomy and representation on population basis, the two principal demands of the Bangalis, or the question of the undoing of One Unit which has the principal demand of the minority provinces. What had manifested itself as an initial reluctance hardened into concerted resistance to these demands.
Persons who represented the ruling groups had begun to reveal themselves as hard-liners quite early in the day. In earlier meetings of DAC in February in Rawalpindi, while discussions were still going on as to whether DAC would participate in the RTC at all, they raised objections to specifically pressing for demands for regional autonomy and the undoing of the One Unit which, they argued, were
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covered in general terms by the Eight Points that the constituents of the DAC had agreed to..
A crucial DAC meeting was held in Lahore on 7 and 8 March 1969 when the anti-autonomists reiterated their view that neither regional autonomy nor the undoing of One Unit were matters specifically covered by the DAC agreement and therefore could not be pressed by DAC at the conference. The Awami League (Six Points) and the NAP (Requisitionist) made their own positions clear. Their key constitutional demands were regional autonomy and the dissolution of One Unit. In their view, if these demands could not be raised at the conference, there was little point in going to the conference.
Bangabandhu had avoided attending the DAC meeting, and stayed in his hotel room on the grounds of being indisposed. In fact, he was keeping away from the discussions, which were tending to run into an impasse, as the Punjabi leaders vigorously opposed the inclusion of the Six Points autonomy demand in the common charter of demands. The argument by the Awami League, supported by the National Awami Party, was that the agreed eight points of the Democratic Action Committee covered both the questions of regional autonomy and the undoing of One Unit, since the Democratic Action Committee had committed itself to a ‘federal parliamentary government’. It was urged that the ‘federal character had to be spelt out and, for that purpose, it was necessary for the Democratic Action Committee to take a position on the question of regional autonomy and the dissolution of One Unit. Chaudhury Muhammad Ali, a former senior civil servant and later prime minister, consistently opposed the adoption of a common position on regional autonomy or the dissolution of One Unit. When we suggested to him that it was necessary to spell out what was meant by ‘federal”, he countered by arguing that everyone knew what ‘federal’ meant and, in any case, the meaning could be looked up in the Oxford Dictionary. Bangabandhu and the Awami League, supported by the National Awami Party, insisted on the inclusion of the Six Points demand for autonomy in the common charter of demands as a condition for their participation in the Round Table Conference. They pointed out that the conference had been convened under the pressure of a mass movement. This movement had articulated its constitutional demands, which were set out in the Eleven Points Programme –
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which included regional autonomy on the basis of the Six Point formula and the dissolution of One Unit.
A meeting of the East Pakistan Regional DAC was hurriedly convened at Chamba House in Lahore on 8 March. Bangabandhu impressed upon the other Bangali political leaders that, given the state of public opinion and the tempo of the Eleven Points movement, they would be failing in their duty if they did not press for these as ‘the demands of the Bangalis’. Thereupon, a unanimous resolution was adopted making a five-point recommendation to the central DAC to press for: (1) direct elections on the basis of universal adult franchise; (2) federal parliamentary government; (3) full regional autonomy; (4) representation on population basis; and (5) dismemberment of One Unit.
Following the deadlock in the sub-committee, the Punjabi leaders, including Maulana Maudoodi, Mumtaz Daulatana, and Chaudhury Muhammad Ali, came to Bangabandhu’s room in the evening on 8 March and pressed that the Six Points autonomy demand should not form part of the common charter of demands. Bangabandhu was firm that he and his party could not join the Round Table Conference unless they were able to press their demand for regional autonomy on the basis of the Six Points. Bangabandhu said that he had brought experts with him who could sit with any experts that the DAC leaders might nominate to discuss, in detail, the implications of the Six Points formula. It was at this point that my colleagues and I were sent for. We held a brief discussion with Chaudhuri Muhammad Ali who struck the posture that these issues were too complex for him and that their side was not lucky enough to have so many experts.
A point of crisis was reached when the Punjabi leaders, adamant in their refusal to include the Six Points autonomy formula in the common charter of demands, were confronted with an uncompromising Bangabandhu who stressed that unless the Six Points were included, he would return to Dhaka the following morning instead of proceeding to Rawalpindi for the Round Table Conference. The Pathan and Baluch leaders were prepared to support regional autonomy, which was being defined to include their demand for the dissolution of One Unit. There was intense discussion throughout the evening of 8 March with Air Marshal Asghar Khan acting as gobetween. Finally, a compromise formula was evolved under which the committee, as a whole, would present a minimum common
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charter of demands, leaving each party represented on the committee free to press its own separate demands. Thus, Bangabandhu and the Awami League would be able to present their demands before the Round Table Conference. It was on this basis that Bangabandhu agreed to attend the Round Table Conference.
This was seen as a breakthrough and we began to prepare for the opening of the talks. Bangabandhu, with his colleagues, left Lahore for Rawalpindi by road on 9 March, after instructing his advisers, including myself, to prepare a comprehensive statement elaborating the demand for regional autonomy on the basis of the Six Points. We travelled by air to Rawalpindi as the advance party. As instructed, we began to prepare the draft statement to be presented by Bangabandhu. We were guided by Tajuddin Ahmad, and the English text was vetted by Dr. Sarwar Murshid and Khan Shamsur Rahman. In this statement, Bangabandhu, while supporting the common demand for the establishment of a federal parliamentary democracy and direct elections on the basis of universal adult franchise, put forward the demand for regional autonomy as defined in the Six Points formula. In this statement, each of the Six Points was defined with precision, and elaborated on the basis of the formulations which had been prepared by the expert working group. Support was expressed for the dismemberment of One Unit and it was urged that representation in the federal legislature should be on the basis of population – one person, one vote.
As a demonstration of the Awami League’s intention to engage in serious negotiations, Bangabandhu proposed that a committee be set up, composed of experts nominated by each side, to work out the implications of granting regional autonomy on the basis of the Six Points formula. His team of experts was fully prepared to enter into such negotiations. In addition to the experts who had accompanied him, Dr. Nurul Islam, then director of the Pakistan Institute of Development Economics, had also been alerted and was ready to join the team should the conduct of negotiations require advice from a committee of experts.
Upon arrival in Rawalpindi, I found that Manzur Quader was also in Rawalpindi. He contacted me and informed me that he had been asked by Ayub to be available in Rawalpindi as an adviser. When told about Bangabandhu’s proposal that a committee of experts should be set up to engage in serious negotiations, he welcomed the proposal
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and hoped that he would be invited to represent the government side on such a committee.
As events were to show, the Punjabi reaction was to close ranks and to refuse to even discuss the Six Points formula. It is known that the Punjabi opposition leaders were constantly in touch with Ayub Khan and his law minister, Zafar. Indeed, even before Ayub himself raised objections to the Six Points formula, Chaudhury Muhammad Ali, in his opening statement, stated that the Democratic Action Committee’s demand for a federal parliamentary government did not envisage change in the parity basis of representation or the dismemberment of One Unit. He also contended that the Round Table Conference was not competent to go into these questions.
Dr. Nurul Huda, then provincial finance minister, was a member of Ayub Khan’s team. He, however, maintained contact with the Awami League advisers and provided some ‘inside reports’ on what was going on in the government camp. According to him, there was considerable division of opinion between the hawks, who did not wish to concede anything on the demand for autonomy or dismemberment of One Unit and even opposed the formation of a committee of experts, and the doves who favoured the formation of a committee of experts to discuss regional autonomy. S. M. Zafar and Admiral A. R. Khan were identified as hawks. It was reported that Manzur Quader supported the formation of a committee, as did Dr. Huda.
I had maintained contact with Manzur Quader. When I met him on 11 March, he told me that he supported the formation of a committee of experts. He then mentioned that he had examined the Six Points formula and found difficulty with the point which called for two separate currencies. When I told him that in the statement presented at the conference, an alternative proposal for a single currency within a federal reserve system had been put forward, he expressed surprise, since in the transcript which he had received from the Cabinet Division, this alternative proposal had not been mentioned. I informed him that Bangabandhu had prepared a written statement and copies had been distributed, therefore there was no scope for such a major error in the transcription. He expressed dismay, and asked me to give him a copy of Bangabandhu’s statement. I obtained a copy and handed it to him. The report of 11 March was that, on balance, the government side
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was said to be leaning in favour of serious discussions on the regional autonomy. issue and on the formation of a committee of experts. Ayub Khan was expected to make his opening statement on 13 March.
Nothing of substance happened on 12 March,1 since the day was taken up which protracted altercations between Admiral A. R. Khan and Air Marshal Asghar Khan. This was viewed by many of us as a ploy by the former to kill time. On the evening of 12 March, reports began to be circulated by Dr. Huda and others that the hard-liners were beginning to gain an upper hand. Subsequently, it was confirmed that a meeting had been held on the night of 12 March at which the anti-autonomy elements, i.e. Punjabi opposition leaders as well as the hard-liners in the government, had sat together and decided to resist giving any concessions on regional autonomy or on dismemberment of One Unit.
On 13 March, Ayub Khan, looking weary and exhausted, read out a statement which made it clear that he had been prevailed upon by the hard-liners. According to Altaf Gauhar, who was involved in the negotiations, Ayub had little freedom for manoeuvre as Yahya and the army had by then decided to takeover and were directing the negotiations from behind the scenes. Since it was obvious that the army was the real power behind the negotiations, Bangabandhu had a separate meeting with Yahya Khan on 12 March. At the meeting Bangabandhu impressed the importance attached by Bangalis to regional autonomy on the basis of the Six Points scheme. Yahya had maintained an accommodating posture, and insinuated that Ayub and Monem Khan had, in their view, been wrong in threatening to respond to the Six Points demand with the language of weapons rather than dealing with it politically. In retrospect, this meeting seems to have been part of the preparations by Yahya Khan for his entry into the political arena. While he ostensibly expressed the hope that the negotiations at the conference might succeed, he wanted the talks to fail; so, he exerted the army’s pressure to ensure failure. Such a failure was a necessary condition for a takeover by him.
Ayub proceeded to announce what was, in effect, a unilateral award. In a statement which contained echoes of the arguments used
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1 Amidst all the tension and uncertainty, I was delighted to receive a message from my cousin, Kaiser Morshed, who was in the foreign ministry, that my wife Hameeda Hossain had given birth to our younger daughter, Dina, on 11 March at the Holy Family Hospital in Dhaka. I felt guilty that I was not present in Dhaka.
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by Chaudhury Muhammad Ali, he declined to respond to the demand for regional autonomy or dismemberment of One Unit. He announced that he would initiate amendments to the 1962 Constitution, to provide for a federal parliamentary form of government and direct elections on the basis of universal adult franchise. Ayub Khan sought to justify his inability to deal with the question of regional autonomy and One Unit on the ground that these were fundamental questions which could only be considered by elected representatives. Subsequent events were to prove that the position taken by him was purely tactical. When, 21 months later, a body of elected representatives was ultimately constituted, the same Punjabi leaders took up the position that these questions were too fundamental to be dealt with by that body and should be resolved outside in a Round Table Conference.
No sooner had Ayub read out his award, the Punjabi leaders, without even waiting for a show of consultation among the members of the Democratic Action Committee, hastened to congratulate Ayub. Since it was quite obvious that the anti-autonomy forces had succeeded in shutting the door to negotiations on regional autonomy, Bangabandhu rejected the award. On returning from the conference hall, he sat with his senior colleagues to decide on their next line of action.
A press conference was called at 3 p.m. I was asked to prepare a statement for the press, the key points of which were the rejection of Ayub’s ‘award’, withdrawal from the DAC, and intensification of the popular movement. The atmosphere was tense. Messages were sent to Bangabandhu that efforts were still being made to see if negotiations could be resumed. I received a message from Manzur Quader to the same effect. The air was filled with rumours that the military was getting ready to intervene.
Bangabandhu addressed a press conference in Islamabad at which he expressed his sorrow that Ayub had not agreed to concede the Six Points. He had kept his promise to the people by rejecting Ayub’s declaration, and announced the withdrawal of the Awami League from the DAC, declaring that the mass movement would go on. The Democratic Action Committee was dissolved the same evening.
Bangabandhu telephoned Manik Mia in Dhaka as he was anxious to gauge the popular reaction, which he had correctly assessed would support his decision to reject Ayub’s award and to carry forward the political movement. The public reaction of the Bangalis
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was electric: spontaneous demonstrations in Dhaka denounced Ayub Khan, the Punjabi leaders, and those among the Bangalis who had acquiesced to Ayub’s award, and pledged their support to the Six Points movement. Bangabandhu’s position as the authentic spokesperson for the Bangali people was confirmed by these demonstrations.
Ayub realised that the other Bangali leaders had little hold over the people or the situation in the eastern wing, and therefore such the futility of doing business with them. He met Bangabandhu immediately after the breakdown of the Conference and pleaded his inability to accept the Six Points demands on the grounds that constitutional amendments to give effect to it would not muster enough support in the National Assembly. Bangabandhu countered that, given the mood of the Bangalis, if such amendments were proposed, all the Bangali members could be expected to support them. Ayub then
hifted ground and said that such amendments would take a great deal of time to work out. Bangabandhu assured him that draft amendments could be delivered within three weeks.
Bangabandhu, immediately upon his return to Dhaka from the Round Table Conference on 14 March 1969, called his team of advisers, including Professor Muzaffar Ahmed Chowdhury, Professor Nurul Islam, Professor Rehman Sobhan, Amirul Islam, and myself, and instructed us to draft these amendments as quickly as possible. On returning to Dhaka, our working group laboured night and day to put together, within three weeks, a set of amendments to the 1962 Constitution which would give effect to the Six Points formula and dismemberment of the One Unit. It was decided that a constitutional amendment bill embodying these would be introduced in the National Assembly by the Awami League members. A. H. M. Kamaruzzaman carried copies with him to Rawalpindi, and an advance copy was delivered to Ayub on 22 March. Bangabandhu and Tajuddin Ahmad had come to my home, at 3 Circuit House Road, to give instructions to the team of advisers on the follow-up to the amendments. While they were there, we received a phone call asking us to tune into the radio which was announcing the promulgation of Martial Law, the dissolution of the National Assembly, and the abrogation of the 1962 Constitution. This meant that consideration of the amendments, by the National Assembly, was pre-empted by
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Ayub Khan’s resignation. He gave his unwillingness to preside over ‘the disintegration of the country’ as his reason.
The 1962 Constitution was abrogated, the National Assembly dissolved, and Martial Law proclaimed on 25 March. General Ayub Khan handed power over to General Yahya Khan, the commanderin-chief of the Pakistan Army.
When I went to Bangabandhu’s residence at Road 32 Dhanmandi that night to seek instructions, I was struck by the eerie silence and completely deserted appearance of the roads. Where, previously thousands of persons had thronged around the house, I now found Bangabandhu sitting in the upstairs verandah with some student leaders. His bags packed, he sat ready to face arrest – which he had done repeatedly in his life. With his spirit undaunted, he told us that the movement must go on.
Chapter 5
From Martial Law to General Elections and After
(March 1969 to March 1971)
On 29 March 1969, Yahya was sworn in as chief martial law administrator and took on the task of protecting the power structure which had been challenged by the mass upsurge. With the imposition of Martial Law, he bought time. In his first speech, he committed himself to the transfer of power to the elected representatives of the people. Shortly thereafter, he began a round of bilateral consultations with political leaders. Bangabandhu proposed a Constituent Assembly comprising of representatives who would be elected on the basis of population – that is, Bangalis who were 56 per cent of the population would elect 56 per cent of the members – as the only proper way of framing a Constitution and, indeed, the only method acceptable to the Bangalis.
Twenty two years had passed without the constituent units of Pakistan having agreed upon a basis for living together. The British had transferred power to a sovereign Constituent Assembly. This Assembly had been dissolved in October 1954 through the intervention of the army. In 1956, a Constitution had been adopted by a Constituent Assembly composed of members nominated by the provincial legislatures. This had raised questions about the representative character of the body itself. There was also little doubt that One Unit and Parity between East and West Pakistan, as well as the particular distribution of powers between the Centre and the regions, were in effect imposed upon that body by threats of Martial Law. In 1962, a Constitution had been promulgated by a presidential proclamation. The demand for a properly elected Constituent Assembly, constituted on the basis of population was one of the commitments
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made in the Twenty One Points election manifesto of the United Front, which had swept the polls in East Bengal in 1954. Now the fundamental issue, namely that the basis for living together among the different constituent units of Pakistan, should be determined by people’s elected representatives, could no longer be evaded. The army had no legitimate basis to rule Pakistan. Indeed, it is not without a touch of irony that the Pakistan Supreme Court ruled, sometime in 1972 after the holocaust in Bangladesh, that Yahya was a usurper and that his assumption of power had been unconstitutional!
The leaders who had argued at Ayub’s Round Table Conference that only elected representatives would be competent to decide on such fundamental questions as the content of regional autonomy now changed their tune. Some amongst them began to press for the restoration of the 1956 Constitution, with a few amendments being made which were to be negotiated at a conference of political leaders. Others pressed for the Constitution to be promulgated as in 1962. The prospect of a Punjabi minority being outvoted in any national body of elected representatives was a nightmare that Punjabi political leaders had feared since the day Pakistan came into being. The Pathans and Baluchis, and large sections of Sindhis, concentrated on pressing for the immediate dismemberment of One Unit.
Yahya Khan sensed that naked military rule could not be continued indefinitely in the face of an aroused populace. He had to find some basis to legitimise his rule and to contain the pressures in both wings. His real challenge lay in East Pakistan where Bangali nationalism had united the entire people behind a single leader. Bangabandhu had made it clear that the 1962 Constitution, promulgated by a decree, was unacceptable. The consent of the Bangali people could only be secured to a Constitution framed by a Constituent Assembly consisting of directly elected representatives of the people. The Punjabi elite, when threatened by an elected majority, had tended to rely upon the army to secure their interests. They clearly appreciated the threat posed to them by a Constituent Assembly that might enact a Constitution to denude the Centre of those powers, which they regarded as of vital importance to them in particular the control over economic resources. The military which had been accustomed to steadily increasing defence expenditures no doubt shared this anxiety.
Faced with this situation, Yahya Khan appeared to make certain concessions. On 28 November 1969, he declared that he would
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promulgate a legal framework for the setting up of a Constituent Assembly. He conceded the principle of one person one vote, or representation on the basis of population. This was to give the eastern wing 169 seats in an assembly of 313. He also announced his decision to dismember One Unit. The concession on One Unit was obviously aimed at defusing the main divisive issue in the west, and thus pre-empting the possibility of the anti-One Unit forces in Sindh, the Frontier, and Baluchistan joining forces with the Bangalis in the Assembly. Thus, the ground was cleared for representatives of the western wing to close ranks and face the Bangalis unitedly. A calculated risk had however been taken, namely that of a united body of Bangali representatives passing a Constitution which provided for regional autonomy on the basis of the Six Points Formula.
There is no doubt that this remained a source of major concern for Yahya. Some unusual provisions in the Legal Framework Order, which was promulgated on 28 March 1970, reflected these anxieties and bore witness to the reassertion of the role of the army as the custodian of the interests of the ruling minority. Article 20 of the Legal Framework Order (LFO) provided that the Constitution shall be so framed as to embody five fundamental principles which were enumerated. The fourth principle was formulated thus:
All powers including legislative, administrative, and financial shall be so distributed between the Federal Government and the Provinces and the Provinces shall have maximum autonomy, that is to say maximum legislative, administrative, and financial powers but the Federal Government shall also have adequate powers including legislative, administrative, and financial powers to discharge its responsibilities in relation to external and internal affairs and to preserve the independence and territorial integrity of the country
Article 25 provided that the Constitution Bill would have to be presented to the president for authentication. It further provided that the assembly would stand dissolved if authentication were refused.
The Bangalis saw this provision as formally investing the Punjabi minority and the army with the power to veto decisions adopted by a majority in a sovereign Constituent Assembly. It presented the Awami League with an agonising dilemma: would it, like many smaller political parties, simply reject what was offered or find a way of accepting the elections without being bound by the conditions
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imposed by the LFO? An urgent meeting of the Awami League leaders with Bangabandhu and his senior colleagues was held in Mr. Kamruddin’s house. Prof. Muzaffar Ahmed Chowdhury was also asked to attend, and so was I since I was working on a draft of the Constitution. After intensive discussions, it was decide Bangabandhu, in a public statement, would welcome the setting up of a Constituent Assembly consisting of representatives elected by the people on the basis of one person one vote. In his statement, he also said that such a body would be sovereign and the exercise of its powers to make a Constitution could not be fettered by provisions such as Articles 20 and 25. He called for the repeal of these provisions and stated that, in any event, such restrictions on people’s sovereignty were illegitimate and invalid.
Yahya proceeded with preparations for holding elections. He had made certain careful calculations. As noted earlier, the decision to dismember One Unit was aimed at uniting the representatives of the western wing in opposing the Bangali demand for autonomy on the basis of the Six Points. He had further provided that if the assembly could frame a Constitution within 120 days, it would be transformed into a national legislature for five years; if it failed to frame a Constitution within that time limit, it would stand dissolved. This was expected to provide a strong incentive for the members to arrive at a compromise regarding the demand for autonomy. If such a compromise was not arrived at, the president could refuse to authenticate the Constitution. Apart from this, Yahya Khan calculated that no party would get a clear majority in the eastern wing. In other words, the Bangali majority would be fragmented, leaving him enough room to manipulate and manoeuvre.1 This was a technique used effectively by the ruling minority in the fifties, and Yahya was confident that it could serve him equally well. He was also encouraged by reports of elderly Bangali politicians, such as Hamidul Huq Chowdhury, that the Awami League would not win a clear majority.
As the pre-election campaign gathered steam, it began to be increasingly clear that the Awami League was emerging as a party with near universal support. Other parties began to sense that a groundswell was developing which was likely to give the Awami
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1 This prompted Henry Kissinger to retort to Yahya’s question ‘Am I a dictator’ with ‘…For a dictator you ran a lousy election’. See Henry Kissinger, The White House Years, London, Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1979, p. 862.
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League a sweeping majority. They, therefore, began to urge the postponement of elections.
Floods in Bangladesh around August provided the leaders of the different parties with the opportunity to press for postponement of the election date, which was set for 5 October 1970. They felt that postponement of the elections might give them a chance to make up some ground. Their efforts to secure a postponement were successful, and the date of the election was shifted from 3 October to 7 December 1970. The postponement, however, acted in favour of the Awami League. The longer campaign time enabled Bangabandhu to embark on a more extensive tour and to personally reach people in all parts of Bangladesh. Also, during this period, an event occurred which had a catastrophic impact upon the people and, ultimately, affected the election results. On 13 November, a massive cyclone and tidal bore swept the coastal areas of Bangladesh, resulting in massive destruction of life, livestock, and homes.
The unprecedented magnitude of devastation and the death toll attracted headlines all over the world. The inaction displayed by Yahya Khan and the central government was reported in both the
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country and outside. On his return journey from China just after the cyclone, Yahya Khan stopped briefly in Dhaka but did not stay long enough to assess the needs for relief and rehabilitation. Nor did he fly over the affected areas to demonstrate personal concern. Relief operations launched by the government were slow and inadequate.
This experience provided the Awami League with the opportunity to demonstrate their capabilities in meeting such a situation, and also to ventilate the sense of outrage felt by the Bangali people towards the central government. The Awami League immediately despatched a number of relief teams. I was part of a relief team organised by the Dhaka city unit. With some 100 workers, we left for Patuakhali with dry food and medicines. We were also advised to carry spades, to bury the dead bodies, as hundreds of corpses were said to be rotting along the coastline. On reaching Patuakhali, we found that we were the first relief vessel to arrive, followed shortly afterwards by a Red Cross relief team. We had to obtain smaller launches to reach villages in the interior where we were told that people had received no relief and were without food for more than five days. On arrival at Amtoli, we were moved by the large number of cyclone-affected women and men who were standing along the banks of the main river, looking quite starved themselves, who advised us to go through the smaller inlets into the interior where conditions were even more dire. I have not been able to wipe out the image of a naked twelve-year-old boy lining up to receive a piece of bread, jumping up and down shouting slogans about the disparity between East and West Pakistan. This impressed on me how effective the campaign had been throughout the country, and how the message about disparity and injustice had become part of the popular consciousness. The message had been carried largely by student volunteers and young workers while Bangabandhu and many of the leaders had been in jail between 1966 and 1969.
Parties, other than the Awami League, again raised a chorus for postponement. The Awami League had voiced, in the strongest possible terms, its opposition to such a postponement. Indeed, Bangabandhu characterised such efforts at postponement as a conspiracy to obstruct the transfer of power and warned that any such move would be resisted by the people. At a press conference, he stated that a million lives had already been lost and, if necessary,
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Bangalis would sacrifice a million more to frustrate the conspirators and to become masters of their own destinies. In the face of this situation, Yahya desisted from further postponements. Only elections in the cyclone-affected areas (involving 17 seats) were postponed. Elections proceeded in other places, in accordance with the original schedule, on 7 December 1970.
The Awami League won 167 out of 169 seats in East Pakistan in a house of 313. Nurul Amin, a former Muslim Leaguer who was then the chief of the Pakistan Democratic Party, and Raja Tridiv Roy, the Chakma chief who contested as an independent candidate, were the only two non-Awami Leaguers to be elected to the Constituent Assembly. An overwhelmingly decisive election result gave an absolute majority to the Awami League and was a clear verdict in favour of the party’s Six Points Programme. This result clearly put Yahya’s whole strategy in dire disarray. He had obviously banked on fragmented representation in East Pakistan, so that he would be free to manipulate and manoeuvre. He was now confronted with an absolute majority. Thus, he found that the initiative had passed out of his hands, and his power to manoeuvre was all but lost. That he was guided by these calculations is not only an inference from circumstances, but has been corroborated by West Pakistani leaders and by foreign leaders in whom Yahya confided.2
In the elections in West Pakistan, Bhutto had emerged with 83 seats out of 131, with majorities only in the provinces of Sindh and Punjab. Bhutto’s initial reaction to these results was revealing. His very first statement in the wake of elections, was that no Constitution could be made except with the agreement of the People’s Party. He asserted that Sindh and Punjab were ‘bastions of power’ and that a ‘majority alone does not count in national politics’.3 It was disturbingly clear that he saw that the only way to contain the Bangali majority in the National Assembly was to confront it outside the Assembly. There, he could supplement his strength from the one source upon which the ruling minority had always fallen back in order to deal with the Bangali majority, namely the military. It was
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2 Ibid., at p. 850, Kissinger writes about Yahya: ‘He expected a multiplicity of parties to emerge in both East and West Pakistan which would continually fight with each other in each wing of the country; the President would therefore remain the arbiter of Pakistan politics.’
3 See contemporary newspapers and Rafi Reza, Zulfikar Ali Bhutto and Pakistan, 1967-1977, Dhaka, The University Press Limited (UPL), 1997, p. 44.
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the same pattern that had manifested itself throughout the 24 years of Pakistan’s history. A minority unable to contain a majority within democratically constituted representative institution had always fallen back on military force. The Awami League had an absolute majority; they could not concede the veto that Bhutto claimed.4 Yahya, at this stage, maintained an apparently conciliatory posture. According to our assessments in late December, it seemed that Yahya would make his own independent and preliminary attempt to negotiate with the Awami League to press for modification of the Six Points formula, so as to secure the interests of the ruling elite and of the army. If he succeeded, then he, together perhaps with other West Pakistani politicians, might close ranks and Bhutto might find himself totally isolated.
While Yahya might have harboured such thoughts, Bhutto, it appeared, was busy consorting with another section of generals. According to a version published by one of Yahya’s advisers,5 Bhutto found an important ally in General Peerzada, the principal staff officer of the president. It seems that General Gul Hassan and some others, who survived the purge at the end of 1971 after Bhutto took over, were part of this group.
Their attitude at the time was summed up significantly by a general who, after a sumptuous dinner at Government House in Dhaka, is reported by another Pakistani army officer to have declared, ‘Don’t worry … we will not allow these black bastards to rule over us.’6
Yahya came to Dhaka in the middle of January. There was an initial meeting between Yahya and Bangabandhu at which Yahya appeared to maintain an outwardly conciliatory posture but, nonetheless, sought clarifications about . This was obviously how he intended to open negotiations on the substance of the Six Points.
G. W. Chowdhury records that a detailed exercise had been carried out in Islamabad about the implications of the Six Points; a draft Constitution had even been prepared in December 1970. Therefore, the request for explanation was, in fact, a polite invitation to negotiate on the substance of the Six Points. Bangabandhu and the Awami League were not prepared to make such concessions. Six
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4 Ibid.
5 G. W. Chowdhury, op.cit.
6 Siddiq Salik, Witness to Surrender, Dhaka, The University Press Limited (UPL), 1977, p. 29.
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months before the elections, in June 1970, Bangabandhu had stated clearly that the elections would be a referendum on the Six Points. The popular verdict was decisive. Bangabandhu had announced that the Six Points were now the property of the people and that he had no authority to compromise on their substance. The Awami League had called a mammoth public meeting in January 1971, when all members elected to the national and provincial assemblies were asked to attend. The Race Course was decorated resplendently, and a large wooden boat served as the stage for the elected members. The grounds were closely packed with men and women who had come from outside Dhaka, as well, to listen to the promises that we were to make. All of us stood up along with Bangabandhu and the other leaders and took an oath that we would not compromise on the Six Points.
When Bangabandhu, along with his senior colleagues, Syed Nazrul Islam, Tajuddin Ahmad, Mansur Ali, Khandaker Mushtaque Ahmed, and A. H. M. Kamaruzzaman met Yahya, he proceeded to explain and sought to assure Yahya that the scheme was workable. The resources needed to carry out the powers and functions that were to be left with the Centre would be met by writing guarantees to that effect into the Constitution. It was explained that constitutional guarantees would ensure that foreign exchange and revenue resources needed by the Centre would automatically be received by the Centre, which would thus not be at the mercy of the regions. In other words, the Bangali majority in Parliament would not have unfettered discretion to deny the Centre.
After this meeting, Bangabandhu asked me to meet General Peerzada separately to explain to him. At this meeting, it was obvious that the main anxiety of the West Pakistani ruling elite was with regard to the foreign exchange and revenue resources for the Centre. Anxiety was also expressed about the control of foreign trade and aid by the regions. I explained that the constitutional provisions would ensure that a portion of the revenue and foreign exchange collected would automatically be appropriated by the central government. About foreign trade and aid, I explained that negotiations on these matters would be considered by the regions, within the framework of the foreign policy of the country. It was also pointed out that conflict could not possibly take place since the Awami League would be in control of the central government as
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well as the government in the East Pakistan. General Peerzada maintained a non-committal position but, significantly, went on to say that Yahya Khan had to carry West Pakistan with him also and therefore it would be desirable for the Awami League to reach an agreement with Bhutto. He said that a Constitution that supported the Awami League as well as the People’s Party would sail through the assembly and accelerate the transfer of power. Peerzada’s parting remarks indicated that Bhutto, Peerzada, and at least a section of the army were in contact.
It is significant that Yahya flew straight from Dhaka to Larkana. Though it was described as a ‘shooting’ trip, some of the generals and a fair part of the ruling junta also flew into Larkana where an important meeting took place. There is little doubt that strategy was being evolved about the containment and frustration the Bangali majority that had emerged in the elections. It was announced that Bhutto would visit Dhaka shortly. Other West Pakistani leaders also began to come to Dhaka. They included Nawab Akbar Khan Bugti, Maulana Noorani, Wali Khan, and Sardar Shaukat Hayat Khan.
Bhutto arrived in Dhaka on 27 January. Several rounds of talks were held between Bangabandhu and Bhutto, while separate parallel meetings were held between the Awami League team and the People’s Party team which consisted of Mr. J. A. Rahim, Sheikh Abdur Rashid, Hanif Ramay, Abdul Hafeez Peerzada, and Rafi Raza.? The Awami League team consisted of Syed Nazrul Islam, Tajuddin Ahmad, Mansur Ali, Khandaker Mushtaque Ahmed, A. H. M. Kamaruzzaman, and myself. Our team had thought that the discussions would focus on the substance of the Six Points formula. The Awami League invited the People’s Party leaders to state their objections to the Six Points. We assured them that satisfactory explanations would be presented fo
| for each of the points, with a view to removing their misgivings on any point. The People’s Party team, however, led by Mr. Rahim, instead of raising specific issues, launched into abstract discussions about the meaning of ‘socialism’. He defended the need for a strong centre in order to build ‘socialism’. In this context, he referred to the strong centre in the Soviet Union and other socialist countries as being essential for central planning. The Awami League members pointed out to him that such comparisons were not
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7 Rafi Reza, op.cit., p. 51.
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relevant. Instead, they pressed him to specifically turn to the Six Points scheme. My recollection of this meeting is that there was a marked reluctance on the part of the People’s Party team to engage in discussions on the specific issues raised by the Six Points scheme; nor was any alternative constitutional scheme presented by them. The
ons, therefore, were totally unstructured and there was no real communication. I chided Hafiz Peerzada that, as a lawyer, he should appreciate the need to be more precise in discussions. I urged him to persuade his colleagues to proceed in discussions, point by point, and to specifically state their objections so that specific replies could be given. He reacted by making a jocular remark that Mr. Rahim was an old man who had to be indulged and that they would be prepared for fuller discussion when they came to Dhaka for a second round of talks in February.
While the two teams had been meeting, Bhutto had held a separate meeting with Bangabandhu which lasted for over two hours. Bangabandhu reported to his colleagues that the main concern raised
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by Bhutto was whether he could be assured of the presidency if Bangabandhu became prime minister, and which other ministerial posts would be offered to the People’s Party in exchange for its support to the Awami League programme.
At the conclusion of the January talks, Bhutto addressed a press conference in Dhaka, where he stated, ‘We have genuine difficulties and we need time at least up to the end of February to make a comment on it’. He also stated that ‘it was not necessary to enter into the Constituent Assembly with an agreement on different issues because negotiations could continue even when the House was in session’. It was significant that, when asked whether the Awami League with its present absolute majority in the House was competent to frame a Constitution, Bhutto said:
Legally speaking they can but the question has to be decided by the House as to whether the Constitution will be adopted by a simple majority or by a two-third majority. Since the question of making a Constitution in our geographical position is peculiar, the majority adopting the Constitution should include the consensus.
On their departure, Bhutto’s delegation members indicated that they were returning for consultations with their party colleagues from the different provinces of West Pakistan and that, after such consultations, they would return to Dhaka in February for further discussions with the Awami League. The events of February 1971, and the postures that the People’s Party had begun to strike, made it clear that they were not working towards resumption of dialogue but towards precipitating a crisis and ultimately, confrontation.
On 2 February 1971, an extraordinary event took place. An Indian Airlines plane was hijacked to Lahore by two young men describing themselves as Kashmiri freedom fighters. The reaction to this event, by Bhutto and his People’s Party, was to lionise these young men. Bhutto himself garlanded them and they were taken in a triumphal procession through the streets of Lahore. This also provided an occasion for a diatribe by Bhutto against India.
I clearly remember the reaction of the Awami League. The blowing-up of the hijacked plane, even more than the hijacking itself, gave rise to suspicion. The suspicion was that elements interested in averting the transfer of power to the elected representatives were
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bent on creating abnormal conditions. A statement was issued by Bangabandhu deploring the incident:
Prompt and effective steps by the authorities could have been taken to prevent its occurrence. It should have been realised that at this critical juncture in the nation’s life, the creation of abnormal conditions can only serve the interest of saboteurs. I would urge the government to hold an enquiry into this matter and to take effective measures to prevent interested quarters from exploiting the situation for their nefarious ends.
For some weeks, the two young ‘commandos’ continued to be feted. The People’s Party immediately mounted a campaign directed against the Awami League for deploring the hijacking and blowingup of the plane. The Awami League’s office in Lahore was attacked. Indeed, it began to be said that the divergent reactions of the Awami League and the People’s Party to the hijacking showed how difficult it might be to evolve a common foreign policy – bearing in mind that foreign affairs under the Six Points scheme was to be a federal subject.
Reacting to the pressure that the Awami League should make more specific comments on the hijacking, Bangabandhu pointed out that this could hardly be expected when the government had not taken any steps to brief him on precisely what had happened, even though he was the leader of the majority party. An interesting footnote is provided by the fact that Alvie, the additional foreign secretary, came to Dhaka on 1 March 1971 and sought an appointment on 2 March 1971 with Bangabandhu to brief him about the hijacking incident. Since 2 March marked the beginning of the ‘non-cooperation movement’,8 Alvie found that his mission had been overtaken by events.
An important consequence of the hijacking was that India suspended all flights by Pakistani aircraft over Indian territory. This meant that the only route by which aircraft could travel from West Pakistan to East Pakistan was all the way around the southern tip of the Indian peninsula, over Sri Lanka, thus almost trebling the distance and travelling time. This also meant that a military solution in East Pakistan would be much more expensive and difficult, should the junta (Yahya Khan regime) be disposed to opt for this.
The suspension of the overflights meant that troop movements, and the movement of arms and supplies to the military in the eastern wing would be impeded, thus affecting their capabilities. The abortive talks with Bhutto, and the delay in convening the session of
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8 See Chapter 6.
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the National Assembly, had begun to feed the fear that Yahya and the military junta might be seeking some pretext for not calling the National Assembly.
The possibility of a declaration of independence was actively considered by Bangabandhu at a meeting held behind closed doors with the main party leaders in early February 1971. In particular, Bangabandhu and Tajuddin Ahmad carefully reviewed the steps that would be needed to implement a unilateral declaration. The delay in the convening of the Assembly inevitably led the Awami League to consider its own options. A unilateral declaration of independence was seen as an option. Careful calculations had to be made, of the magnitude of the military response to such a declaration and of the capacity of the people to withstand the resulting onslaught. Some calculations were made of existing military strength. The suspension of the overflights and the difficulty this created to augment personnel and material were taken into account.
I was asked to draw up a draft declaration of independence, which I did under Tajuddin Ahmad’s close guidance. The text used as a precedent was the American Declaration of Independence which recited the injustices perpetrated by the British Crown to justify the act of declaring independence. Closeted with Tajuddin Bhai in my chambers in Sharif Mansions in Motijheel for over two days, I typed the draft declaration myself, given its absolutely confidential nature. We duly prepared the draft and handed it over to Bangabandhu around 10 February, he then kept it with himself. Not only had Tajuddin Ahmad been associated in this drafting but he was also to outline the plan of action for the implementation of the decision to declare independence – should this course of action have to be adopted. The essentials of the plan, as discussed, were that massive popular demonstrations would be launched in the main cities. Hundreds of thousands of people would be out on the streets. While this would distract the military sufficiently, the main targets would be the radio station, the secretariat, and Government House, where the governor would be prevailed upon to make an announcement formally transferring power to the elected representatives.
In the meantime, the Awami League kept pressing for the convening of the National Assembly. A joint meeting of all Awami League members elected to the national and provincial assemblies,
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and members of its Working Committee, was called on 13 February 1971, where ‘decisions would be taken on our future course of action’. It was widely believed that this meeting would be called upon to consider the option of declaring independence. I remember a foreign diplomat asking me, on its eve, ‘Are you going to declare Unilateral Declaration of Independence (UDI) at this meeting?’
The atmosphere reflected the rising public anger at the delay in convening the National Assembly. On the very morning when the joint meeting was to take place, Yahya Khan announced that the meeting of the National Assembly would be held in Dhaka on 3 March 1971.
to’s reaction to this announcement was to take a further step towards the crisis. In a statement on 15 February 1971, he expressed his Party’s inability to attend the National Assembly session on 3 March in Dhaka in the absence of an understanding for ‘compromise or adjustment’ on the Six Points. He further went on to say that his party members would be in jeopardy in going to East Pakistan, stating that he could not be ‘a party in a position of double hostage because of Indian hostility and non-acceptance of the Six Points’.9
On 16 February in Karachi, Bhutto stated that ‘his party’s decision not to attend the ensuing session of the National Assembly was unshakeable and irrevocable’. On 17 February, Bhutto stated that ‘under present circumstances, it was pointless for the People’s Party to attend the ensuing National Assembly session’.10 He said that his party had tried its best to work out some agreed settlement and understanding with the Awami League but now ‘there is no room for further negotiations with the Awami League.’ On the Six Points, Bhutto stated that the most difficult was the one pertaining to foreign trade and foreign aid’.11
Thus, Bhutto’s statement showed a hardening of his position and was in contrast to the statement made by him at the end of January in Dhaka, when he had stated that further negotiations would be conducted with the Awami League and that such negotiations could even be held within the National Assembly. Instead, there was now a refusal to come to the National Assembly and an assertion that there was no room for further negotiations with the Awami League.
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9 Z. A. Bhutto, The Great Tragedy, Karachi, Pakistan People’s Party, 1971.
10 Keesing’s Research Report 9, Pakistan: From 1947 to the Creation of Bangladesh, New York, Charles Scribner’s and Sons, 1971, p. 108.
11 Z. A. Bhutto, op.cit.
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The apprehension of the Bangalis that the position of the military junta, or at least a section of the junta, was hardening and that Bhutto may be linked with the army, may have been grounded on some facts. To a question from the press, Bhutto was reported to have denied that his party’s decision not to attend the Assembly had blessings from any quarter in the Yahya regime. He said that there was no question of any agreement ‘behind the scenes’ between him and anybody else. That this apprehension, and the question put by the press, were well-founded is apparent from an account by G. W. Chowdhury, who described the situation in mid-February 1971 thus:
Bhutto, by this time, knew his bargaining strength, powerful members of the junta were with him rather than with Yahya. As pointed out earlier, Yahya had a free hand in formulating a scheme for the transfer of power and holding elections, but the junta adopted a policy of ‘wait and see’; if Yahya was successful in maintaining the unity of the country by whatever constitutional devices, well and good, but from late January when Yahya had had his abortive talks with Mujib, the junta was not prepared to remain as a passive spectator of the political and constitutional issues. From January, the process of decision-making changed.12
… it is my assessment that in February, like Ahsan, Yahya might also have been replaced by Hamid; he would not perhaps have been unhappy to go. But for some reason the junta had to carry on with Yahya…So Yahya continued to play his role in an untenable situation.13
In the third week of February, an atmosphere of impending crisis prevailed. Around 19 February, military movements were noticed in Dhaka and a machine gun nest was set up in the mound in front of the National Assembly building. It led Bangabandhu to urgently summon party leaders to a meeting to review this development. Some of the student leaders, including Sirajul Alam Khan, were also asked to attend the meeting. I was present at this meeting where we were told that a great deal of activity had been noticed in the cantonment and that there was apprehension that some military action was in the offing. Faced with this situation, it was felt that political workers, for security reasons, should not stay in their homes at night and, in the event of a military operation being launched, everyone was to leave Dhaka and mobilise people in the countryside to resist. Although no military operation took place that night, the tension continued to mount.
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12 G. W. Chowdhury, op.cit., p. 155.
13 Ibid., p.156.
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On 21 February, (known as Bhasha Shaheed Dibash or ‘Language Martyrs’ Day), the atmosphere was tense and emotionally charged. Once again, there was the expectation that Bangabandhu might declare independence at the meeting at Shaheed Minar. However, Bangabandhu stated that the Bangali people were united and determined and that if their demands were not conceded they would shed blood to realise their aspirations.
In the meantime, various delegations representing other West Pakistani parties were arriving in Dhaka for discussions. The position taken by the Awami League in these discussions was that while we were committed to making a Constitution on the basis of the Six Points, we would certainly discuss all aspects of the draft with other political parties and seek to dispel any misgivings that they might have about the impact of the Six Points scheme on the legitimate interests of the Punjab, Sindh, Frontier, and Baluchistan provinces and the viability of the federal government. A major press statement was issued on 24 February, to clearly explain the Awami League’s position. It was believed that at just about this time, a crucial meeting of the junta was held. G. W. Chowdhury (Yahya’s advisor) reported on this meeting as follows:14
After the fateful Larkana talks, the army junta met formally at Rawalpindi in mid-February to discuss the political situation. It was at this meeting that the junta decided to challenge Mujib if he persisted in his uncompromising attitude, but significantly it ignored Bhutto’s provocative speeches. Bhutto was now regarded by the hawkish generals like Hamid, Umar, and Gul Hassan, as well as by his trusted friend, Peerzada, as the defender of the ‘national interest’ of Pakistan, as interpreted by the ruling elite. It was at this meeting that the junta decided to dissolve the Cabinet – whose members had already expressed their desire to be relieved after the election. But at the Cabinet meeting on December 8, 1970, Yahya decided to continue with it as some of its members were useful in acting as links with Mujib, while he needed the services of some others as long as constitutional dialogue persisted. But now Yahya’s hold over the junta, which had never been absolute, was declining because of his failure to modify Mujib’s policy. Both Ahsan and Yahya were discredited. Ahsan wanted to be relieved and the junta decided that he should be replaced by a hawk, Lieutenant General Tikka Khan. The Cabinet was also dissolved on February 17, but within forty-eight hours Yahya invited some of its members, including myself, to continue as his advisers. Instead of a council of ministers he wanted to have a council of advisers.
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14 Ibid., pp. 154-155.
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Constituted as the Awami League’s Constitution Drafting Committee we worked day and night to finalise the draft Constitution bill; long meetings were held to complete this task before 1 March. Yahya was expected to reach Dhaka on 1 March and we were told by Bangabandhu that an advance copy of the draft Constitution was to be delivered to him (Yahya) on that date.
While the Committee for Drafting of Constitution was engaged in this task, a senior Bangali diplomat, K. M. Kaiser brought a message from Governor Ahsan to the Awami League Parliamentary Party, which was meeting at the Hotel Purbani, that a decision had already been taken in Islamabad to postpone the National Assembly session. He advised that Bangabandhu should immediately see Governor Ahsan to register his strong protest against such a decision. The same morning, Bangabandhu met Governor Ahsan, who was also greatly agitated by this report. Bangabandhu informed Ahsan that such a postponement would be seen by the Bangali people as a conspiracy to deprive the majority of their rights, and the situation would explode. Ahsan promised to convey this to Islamabad. Later, he confirmed that although he had conveyed this view there was no change in the decision. Indeed, he said that he had, on his own, suggested that if there was to be a postponement, it should be for a specific number of days and not for an indefinite period. In a speech on 28 February, Bangabandhu, on a conciliatory note, said that due consideration would be given to any reasonable proposals made by members of the Assembly.
That evening, on receiving a message from Governor Ahsan, I called on him at Government House. I found him looking quite dejected. He informed me that he was deeply disappointed by Yahya’s failure to respond to the message he had conveyed. He then said that he intended to submit his resignation, and he wanted to inform Bangabandhu of his intention. I immediately told Bangabandhu of Governor Ahsan’s decision. Bangabandhu advised that Governor Ahsan should not resign as he alone could be expected to send objective reports of the situation and wanted me to convey to him his appreciation of the efforts he had made. As I was leaving, I noticed the seniormost civil servant, Shafiul Azam, emerging from General Rao Farman Ali’s room. They seemed to represent a parallel contact point for Yahya in Dhaka. I went home and, shortly thereafter, received
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a call from Governor Ahsan to say that it was no longer necessary for him to resign as he had been informed that he was being relieved of his responsibility and would be replaced by General Tikka Khan.
On that day, Bhutto, in a long statement, declared that he had narrowed down his disagreement to foreign trade and foreign aid, and that he could not give in on these points. He concluded by saying that either the Assembly session should be postponed or the 120 day time limit for constitution-making should be removed.
G. W. Chowdhury’s account of the immediate background of the postponement shows that Bhutto was, by now, working in tandem with the military junta. It states:15
Following Bhutto’s threat, the National Assembly, which had been scheduled to meet on March 3, was postponed indefinitely. Yahya’s announcement on March 1 on the postponement of the Assembly could not have been more provocative or tragic. When I asked him about it on March 5, he looked vacant and helpless; I was convinced he had only been a signatory to it. Bhutto and Peerzada were reported to have drafted the statement. Yahya, unlike on previous occasions, did not broadcast it; it was only read out over the radio. Before Yahya left Rawalpindi for Karachi to persuade Bhutto to go to Dacca so that the National Assembly might not be postponed, he had already sent Peerzada, Ahsan and Yaqub on the same mission to persuade Bhutto to attend the National Assembly. He gave Bhutto a solemn promise that if Mujib were to “thrust a six-point constitution” against the wishes of the majority of the West Pakistan members and if his constitutional draft would mean splitting the country, he would at once prorogue the Assembly; however nothing could satisfy Bhutto. When it became evident that as a result of Bhutto’s threat of boycotting the Assembly, the majority of the West Pakistani Assembly members would not attend the session, Yahya decided to postpone the summoning of the Assembly, but he wanted to issue a statement which should cause the least provocation possible in East Pakistan. Though I was no longer a member of his Cabinet, Yahya asked me to prepare a statement in a conciliatory vein. I immediately began to draft the proposed statement, which ran as follows: In view of the complete deadlock between the two principal parties representing East and West Pakistan respectively, I am constrained to postpone the meeting of the National Assembly on March 3, 1971. I would however wish to make it absolutely clear that the postponement will not exceed two or three weeks and during this short period, I shall make all endeavours to bring rapprochement between the elected representatives of the two regions of our country. As you will recall, I have often said in the past and I want to reaffirm that I have no desire to impose a constitution either on East or on West Pakistan against the wishes of the people. A true
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15 Ibid., pp. 156-158.
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federal constitution, to which the political parties and my regime are all committed, cannot be framed without the consensus of various federating units. I shall be the happiest person when a consensus on a federal union is arrived at, and on my part I assure my nation that I shall spare no efforts to achieve this supreme goal. I sincerely hope and appeal to my brethren in East Pakistan to appreciate the gravity of the situation and allow me this short period of two or three weeks to work for an agreed formula. Insha Allah (By the Grace of God) we shall overcome this difficulty. Let us remember Quaid-e-Azam’s immortal saying ‘Pakistan has come to stay’; let us all dedicate ourselves to the fulfillment of the desire of the Father of the Nation. I personally handed over the draft of the statement at Islamabad airport as Yahya was leaving for Karachi. He subsequently gave it to Peerzada, who, in alliance with Bhutto, torpedoed it. I still feel regret that I did not accompany Yahya to Karachi. My reluctance was due to the fact that I was no longer a member of the Cabinet; I also expressed my inability to accept his offer of being an ‘adviser’. By accompanying Yahya to Karachi, I would have caused unnecessary speculation about my links with Yahya. But I now realise that Yahya’s great weakness was his fickle mindedness; he approved my draft, but in my absence, when Bhutto and Peerzada presented another draft, Yahya, true to his weak personality, accepted the provocative one. Though I cannot provide documentary evidence of this, I heard from the personal staff of the President, including the Military Secretary, that Yahya was most reluctant to sign the statement prepared by Peerzada in collusion with Bhutto. But the pressures were strong and Yahya yielded.
Chapter 6
Non-Cooperation Movement
(1 March to 25 March 1971)
The Awami League had conveyed clear and unambiguous signals to Yahya through Governor Ahsan that the postponement of the Assembly would lead to a political explosion in the eastern wing. Ahsan confirmed that he had transmitted these signals. On the night of 28 February, there were indications that Yahya might still arrive in Dhaka on 1 March. The usual procedures that preceded the arrival of the president in Dhaka were underway. The plane from Karachi which arrived on 1 March, however, did not carry Yahya. A government official who travelled on that plane reported that their departure had been delayed twice in Karachi as Yahya was expected to join the flight. Ultimately, he had decided to stay back. It was reported that there had been extensive discussions with Bhutto that night.
The entire Constitution Drafting Committee of the Awami League was assembled at the party office to finalise the draft Constitution Bill. We were still working to a March 1 dateline, and had very nearly completed our work when one of the party workers came in to report that an important radio broadcast was to be made at 1 p.m. We stopped working when Bangabandhu and the other party leaders joined us as the time of the broadcast approached. A radio set was brought in to enable us to hear the broadcast. There was a hushed silence and the atmosphere was tense.
At 1.05 p.m., a radio announcer read out the text of a statement ascribed to Yahya. The operative part was that it had been decided to ‘postpone the summoning of the National Assembly to a later date’. Thus, it was an indefinite postponement. The reason given was that an accepted consensus on the main provisions of the future Constitution had not been arrived at by the political leaders. He
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referred to a political confrontation between the leaders of East Pakistan and those of the West. ‘With so many representatives of the people of West Pakistan keeping away from the Assembly … if he were to go ahead with the inaugural session on the 3rd of March, the Assembly itself could have disintegrated’.1 Further, it was stated that, ‘it was imperative to give more time to the political leaders to arrive at a reasonable understanding on the issue of constitution-making and that as soon as the environment became conducive to constitution-making, a session of the Assembly would be called’.
In other words, Yahya clearly signalled that the ruling minority would have a veto on constitution-making and, indeed, unless there was a prior understanding with them, the Assembly would not be convened. Thus, the Bangalis, despite being a majority in the Assembly, were to be reduced to impotence.
As we listened to this broadcast, we were totally outraged. There could be no greater affront to the Bangali people than was contained in that brief statement. Indeed, it was evident within minutes that the sense of outrage that was felt by us in the party office was widely shared by people everywhere. Government employees began to walk out of the Secretariat and other government offices; banks, insurance, and other commercial concerns were emptying out. A cricket match was on at the stadium; as soon as the spectators heard the radio announcement, they stormed out of the stadium. The students were already out in the streets in spontaneous demonstrations, shouting slogans of Joy Bangla and Bir Bangali osthro dhoro, Bangladesh shadhin koro (“Victory to Bangalis’ and ‘Brave Bangalis take up arms, liberate Bangladesh’).
Bangabandhu, on hearing the broadcast, directed all Awami League Members of Parliament to assemble at Hotel Purbani at 3 p.m., when we would decide our future course of action.
There was no doubt that a decisive moment had been reached in our history. It was clear that the ruling minority was not prepared to concede to the Bangali majority. They had a modern army equipped with tanks and armaments, and supported by air power, which they would use to suppress the aspirations of the people. As against this, on the Bangali side, we demonstrated near total unity of 75 million people who reacted with a shared sense of outrage and a common
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1 Government of Pakistan, White Paper on the Crimes in East Pakistan, pp. 9-10.
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determination not to submit. But we were unarmed, and in any head on confrontation, it was obvious that a heavy price would be exacted in human lives if we dared to demand our democratic rights.
It was clear that there was only one course of action for the Bangalis – of defiance. Thus, the threat of confrontation was now imminent. We could not be sure that the military onslaught might not begin that very day. By the time I reached Purbani Hotel, militant processions were seen advancing towards the hotel from different directions. The militancy of the processions was evident from the fact that almost everyone carried a bamboo or stick in his or her hand and shouted slogans for ‘independence’. Women, too, showed that they were ready to face the risks and joined the marchers.
The reaction of the people was not surprising. The high hopes aroused in them by the success of the mass upsurge of 1969 were dashed, first, by the failure of the Round Table Conference, and then, by the imposition of the second Martial Law. It was again, with a
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great deal of hope – and a measure of bitterness against the central authority for its unsympathetic handling of the situation following the cyclone – that they went to the polls and recorded their verdict. The protracted negotiations that had been taking place since the results of the elections were announced left them with little faith in the intentions of the military government as well as its power base in the Punjab. The announcement of the postponement of the National Assembly eroded their faith in both the constitutional process and in the unity of Pakistan. Their experience of 1969 had given them selfconfidence; now, they were determined to play a more active role in shaping the course of history. The goal they set was independence, and they demanded that the political leaders take them to this destination.
The Awami League parliamentarians were already assembled by 3 p.m. Bangabandhu, flanked by the party leaders, arrived at 3.20 p.m. There was apprehension and expectation. A large contingent of international and national press, gathered outside, added to the tense atmosphere. Bangabandhu declared, ‘… only for the sake of the minority party’s disagreement, the democratic process of constitution-making has been obstructed and the National Assembly session has been postponed sine die. This is most unfortunate. As far as we are concerned, we are the representatives of the majority of the people and we cannot allow it to go unchallenged.’
Bangabandhu announced a programme of action for the next six days. A total strike in Dhaka on 2 March, a country-wide strike on 3 March, and a public meeting on 7 March 1971. This was the start of the Non-Cooperation Movement. In essence, it meant that no one should cooperate, in any way, with Yahya’s government or the military. Bangabandhu’s statement on 2 March 1971, declared, ‘It is the sacred duty of each and every Bangali in every walk of life, including government officials, not to cooperate with anti-people forces and indeed to do everything in their power to foil the conspiracy against Bangladesh’. He also declared that ‘representatives … elected by the people are the only legitimate source of authority. All authorities are expected to take note of this fact’.
The task in the coming days was to sustain the Non-Cooperation Movement by issuing directives that the people could follow, so that we could paralyse the administration but, at the same time, ensure that the economic life of the eastern wing was not disrupted and that essential services were not denied to the people. The Awami League
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decided that directives would be issued centrally. Tajuddin Ahmad was entrusted with the task of formulating directives, assisted by Amirul Islam and I. After approval by Bangabandhu and other party leaders, the directives were issued to the press.2
We were assigned a small room on the ground floor in Bangabandhu’s residence, so that we could be in contact with him. After constant consultations with people who came to his house, he would convey his views to us. The first directive issued on 2 March, called for a province wide hartal (strike) from 3 to 6 March from 6 a.m. to 2 p.m. in all sectors, including government offices, the Secretariat, the High Court, and other Courts. Some government and autonomous corporations, such as the post offices, railways, and other communication services, transport (private and public), mills, factories, industrial and commercial establishments, and markets were exempted, as were ambulances, press cars, hospitals, medical shops, and the electricity and water supply. The response to the call for non-cooperation was total. Nothing moved. Offices, courts, and industries came to a total halt.
Each evening, the military declared a curfew which was systematically defied by the people. The army opened fire on some of the defiant crowds, who came out onto the streets spontaneously; this led to a number of casualties. It appears, however, that General Yaqub, the military commander, was pressing for reinforcements as, in his view, the forces available to him were not adequate to suppress a popular movement which had acquired massive proportions. It was said that it was his professional assessment to not take the NonCooperation Movement head on, but to await the arrival of reinforcements. In any event, he was replaced in the first week of March by General Tikka Khan, who had earlier become notorious for carrying out a ruthless operation against civilians in Baluchistan.
At a meeting organised by students on 3 March Bangabandhu demanded that the military be pulled back to the barracks and power handed to the elected representatives of the people. If the people were denied self-rule and suppressed by force, they would not hesitate to sacrifice their lives. He also called for the launching of a ‘no-tax’ campaign.
The same evening, there was a radio announcement from Islamabad proposing a Round Table Conference of political leaders,
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2 See Appendix 1 for list of directives issued by the Awami League from day to day.
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to be convened by Yahya in Dhaka on 10 March. The junta had begun to sense the rising magnitude of the resistance. The call for a Round Table Conference seemed to be a further provocation, since it would mean that a party enjoying the absolute majority in the National Assembly would have to sit at a Round Table Conference with other leaders whose claims and credentials to be there would be highly questionable. In the meantime, curfews and firing upon unarmed civilians continued.
I remember that there was a clear demonstration of popular pressure on Bangabandhu to immediately reject the radio announcement. There were, however, one or two voices suggesting that this proposal not be rejected immediately but that the situation be observed before a response was given. Some others suggested that the response be deferred till the following day. Bangabandhu, however, reflecting the prevailing mood, decided that an outright rejection should be announced immediately. I was asked to prepare a statement and, within minutes, a press release was issued terming the invitation to a conference ‘a cruel joke’. Both inside and outside the country attention was now riveted on the Awami League meeting fixed for 7 March. Foreign commentators had begun to predict that a unilateral declaration of independence would be made that day.
In the meantime, the Non-Cooperation Movement surged ahead. In view of the continued and total compliance with our directive to continue the general strike, it soon became evident that, in order to sustain a protracted movement, it would be necessary for us to allow essential services to be maintained and certain essential economic activities to continue, so that the people were saved from undergoing avoidable hardship. Since the Non-Cooperation Movement had started on 1 March, many government and non-government employees had not been able to draw their salaries. Many who had received salary cheque had not been able to encash them. People from all walks of life, who otherwise actively supported the Non-Cooperation Movement, came forward to point out emerging problems and suggested ingenious solutions to them.
In order to meet problems as they arose, further directives were issued on 4 March. These directives now had to be in the form of positive instructions. Not only did we ask people to refrain from doing certain things, but specifically directed them to take certain
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actions or carry out functions in accordance with the guidelines issued by the Awami League. This was the first step towards the Awami League assuming the functions of a de facto government in the eastern wing. Thus, on 4 March, specific directives were issued that government and non-government offices, where employees had not as yet been paid their salaries, should function between 2.30 p.m. and 4.30 p.m. for the purpose of disbursing salaries only. Banks were directed to function within these hours, and only for cash transactions of salary cheques not exceeding 1500 rupees.
Since it was apprehended that opening banks may lead to a flight of funds to the western wing, banks were specifically directed to allow no remittances to be effected outside Bangladesh, and the State Bank was directed to take necessary actions in this connection. The timing was deliberately limited from 2.30 p.m. to 4.30 p.m., rather than in the morning, so that it would be clear to all that the offices were not opening as per normal, but specifically under the directives of, and in accordance with, the instructions issued by the Awami League. Further exemptions were issued to cover the movement of cars carrying doctors, press reporters, and fire services. Local and distance telephone calls were allowed into Bangladesh. These directives were strictly complied with, and offices and banks functioned between 2.30 p.m. and 4.30 p.m. Further directives were issued to allow food warehouses to remain open beyond 4.30 p.m., if necessary, to complete deliveries.
Members of some trade unions reported that, in some cases, a cheque for a substantially larger amount than 1500 rupees was required to be drawn – representing the total wage bill of all the workers in an establishment – so that each worker could be paid in cash. In order to meet these cases, directives to the banks were modified further to provide that a cheque for an amount higher than 1500 rupees may be drawn provided that the wage register showing the total amount to be drawn was produced along with the cheque. Since this also created administrative difficulties, in turn it was provided that such a cheque, for an amount higher than 1500 rupees, may be paid if it was certified by the trade unions of the industrial establishments concerned.
On 6 March, I was contacted by a group of senior civil servants, led by Sanaul Haque. They had decided to declare their collective support, to Bangabandhu and wanted to call on him to announce that
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they would support the elected representatives. I arranged a meeting at which a delegation of civil servants, led by Sanaul Haque, formally declared their commitment to comply with the directives of the Awami League. Bangabandhu thanked them and directed them to liaise with me. The three of us (Tajuddin Ahmad, Amirul Islam, and I) continued to be involved with the task of issuing directives. We met daily with the civil servants. This became the nucleus of the administration, which was to run affairs in the eastern wing for the coming weeks.
The same day, a meeting of the members of the Awami League Working Committee was called at the residence of Bangabandhu, to consider what the party would declare at the public meeting on 7 March. There were expectations inside and outside the country that a declaration of independence would be made on 7 March. Indeed, the students and the younger elements strongly favoured such a declaration. In fact, by 7 March, there was little doubt among party members that independence would be the only acceptable goal. Anything less would not be acceptable to the students, the younger elements, and indeed large sections of politically conscious people. But the burden of responsibility still lay with Bangabandhu and the party in this matter. The full implications of making a declaration of independence on 7 March had to be carefully weighed.
Unilateral declaration of independence would mean directly engaging the full force of the military. Not only would they have used this as a pretext for applying force, but they would hit out with everything they had in order to impose their will. Could an unarmed population absorb the shock of such an onslaught and emerge victorious? What would the reaction of the outside world be? Would governments come forward to recognise an independent Bangladesh? Would an independent Bangladesh government be able to hold out for long enough in the face of an organised military onslaught, to obtain such recognition? Apart from that, given the different global and regional interests of the powers, would they accord recognition to, and accept the emergence of, an independent Bangladesh? These were among the many questions which required anxious consideration. In the meeting, Bangabandhu heard the conflicting opinions expressed by the different members but he reserved judgment. A whole range of views was expressed. While the meeting was in progress, Yahya’s speech was broadcast on Radio Pakistan. It was
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particularly provocative and highly offensive to Bangali sentiments. It blamed Bangabandhu and the Awami League for the prevailing situation, and there was a menacing undertone in the statement:3
‘While realising that an application of adequate force can effectively bring the situation under control, I have deliberately ordered the authorities in East Pakistan to use the absolute minimum force required to stop the law breakers from loot, arson, and murder … finally let me make it absolutely clear that no matter what happens as long as I am in command of the Pakistani armed forces, I will ensure complete and absolute integrity of Pakistan. Let there be no doubt or mistake on this point. I have a duty towards millions of people of East and West Pakistan to preserve this country. They expect this from me and I shall not fail them. I will not allow a handful of people to destroy the homeland of millions of innocent Pakistanis. It is the duty of the Pakistan armed forces to ensure the integrity, solidarity, and security of Pakistan, a duty in which they have never failed’.
Translated into less pompous language, the message conveyed that Yahya believed that a military solution was possible, and that he regarded himself as possessing both the authority and the capability to adopt any measure, and to resort to any degree of force he considered necessary for the purpose of ‘protecting the integrity of Pakistan’.
The threat contained in this message was clear. On the conclusion of this broadcast, Bangabandhu directed that the meeting of the Working Committee members may be adjourned till late that evening when we would decide on our response.
The burden of a decision rested squarely upon the Awami League. Bangabandhu invited the senior party leaders – Tajuddin Ahmad, Syed Nazrul Islam, Khandaker Mushtaque Ahmed, Capt. Mansur Ali, A. H. M. Kamaruzzaman – for consultations. I was also asked to join them. The implications of making an explicit declaration of independence were carefully weighed. The fact that such a declaration would provide the army with the opportunity it was seeking for a military onslaught was clearly perceived. It was decided that such an opportunity should be denied. At the same time, the momentum of the movement must be maintained and pressure should be kept on Yahya to proceed to transfer power to the elected representatives of the people. It was calculated that if the tempo of the movement could be sustained, and the unity of the people
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3 Government of Pakistan, White Paper on the Crimes in East Pakistan. 1971, President Yahya’s speech of March 6, 1971, pp. 10-11.
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consolidated, then it would become evident to Yahya and the military junta that use of military force would not result in their gaining any objective. Therefore, it was decided that the position to be taken should not be an explicit declaration of independence. In order to exert pressure on Yahya, specific demands should be made and the movement sustained in support of these demands, with independence as its ultimate goal. These demands would include the withdrawal of the army to the barracks, stopping further movement of troops from the western to the eastern wing, and an enquiry into the killings. Bangabandhu directed that two major demands should be highlighted, namely the immediate withdrawal of Martial Law and transfer of power to the elected representatives of the people. I was asked to prepare the draft of a formal statement embodying this position, which would be released to the press after the public meeting on 7 March. In view of the importance of the pronouncement, it was decided that a written text should be kept ready to be released to the press after Bangabandhu had delivered his speech. A draft text was prepared by the same evening. It included demands for the termination of Martial Law and for transfer of power to the elected representatives of the people. Its last paragraph was as follows:
The objective of the present phase of the struggle is the immediate termination of Martial Law and the transfer of power to the elected representatives of the people. Till this objective is attained, our non-violent Non-cooperation Movement must continue.
Bangabandhu directed that the text should be kept in Tajuddin Ahmad’s charge and should personally be issued by him, after making any amendments as may be necessary in the light of the speech as actually delivered.
The historic speech of 7 March lasted only 19 minutes. The operative declaration was, ‘Our struggle now is for independence, our struggle now is for freedom’. The immediate termination of Martial Law and the transfer of power to the elected representatives were put forward as specific demands. The written text, when released, was accordingly amended by Tajuddin to include these two points as specific demands. Thus, although independence was clearly set as the goal, and in fact it was a declaration of independence, Bangabandhu stopped short of a formal declaration as it was clear that the army had been mobilised and had conspicuously taken up positions at different vantage points in the city in order to strike
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immediately, should such a formal declaration of independence be made. It may be mentioned that late the previous night (6 March) a brigadier had called at Bangabandhu’s office, with a message from Yahya Khan, saying that he expected to come to Dhaka soon and would hope to arrive at a settlement that would satisfy the Bangalis. This was a curious communication and was seen as an attempt to soften the offence given by his radio broadcast and, at the same time, try to influence the position to be taken by Bangabandhu at the 7 March meeting. It was also seen as an attempt to create an alibi for himself; thus, if a declaration of independence was issued, Yahya could turn a round to the world and say that he had offered to go to Dhaka and reach a peaceful settlement but it was Bangabandhu who had declared UDI and precipitated the use of force. This was another reason for Bangabandhu to desist from a formal declaration on 7 March.
A further programme of action was announced for the following week. The ‘no-tax’ campaign was to continue. Further exemptions and specific directives were announced on 7 March and 9 March, to allow essential economic activities to continue. We gave directions to allow the railways and ports to function, but the railway and port workers were directed not to cooperate if railways or ports were used to mobilise armed forces for the purpose of carrying out repression on the people. The 8 March directives contained a number of specific directives to the banks. These followed a round of meetings with Bangali bankers who reported numerous genuine difficulties being faced by different parties. These new directives authorised banking transactions for the purchase of industrial raw materials for the running of mills and also for bona fide personal drawings of up to thousand rupees. In order to ensure that certain ‘essential’ economic activities were maintained, relevant government offices were directed to remain open for the purposes of supplying fertilizer and fuel to power pumps. Food supplies, supply of coal to brick fields, and distribution of jute and rice seeds were to be maintained.
We held a further meeting with bankers, amongst whom was A. K. N. Ahmed, a senior Bangali State Bank official, who had come from Karachi. We took their advice in working out a series of directives that were necessary for the banking system to function, so that essential economic activities could continue within the framework of specific guidelines. On 13 March, a new Martial Law
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order was issued, directing that all civilian employees paid out of the defence budget – civilians employed in military establishments – should resume their duties within the next day or so. A number of senior Bangali civilian officials working in defence establishment, came to see me and asked for a party directive on this issue. They said many of them lived in the cantonment area and, therefore, could be physically coerced. After discussing matters with them, we decided that the best course would be for Bangabandhu to issue a directive for them not to attend; if such a directive were issued then, whatever the risk, they would comply with it and not report for duty. Jamil Chowdhury, who had headed the Pakistan TV station in Dhaka and was in contact with us, was given instructions to see that our directives were transmitted over TV and radio.
On 13 March, while issuing a further programme of action, Bangabandhu specifically stated that it was deplorable that even at this stage some people were trying to intimidate a section of civilian employees by promulgating Martial Law orders. Thereupon, Bangali civilian employees in defence establishments stayed away from work.
Around 12 March, a senior military officer arrived from Rawalpindi and indicated that he wanted to see Tajuddin Ahmad. I reported this to Bangabandhu, who directed me to see this officer. After a few polite remarks, the officer, almost bluntly, asked whether Bangabandhu would see Yahya if he were to come to Dhaka, and whether he would meet him at President’s House. He explained that he was asking the second question because Bangabandhu had earlier refused to meet Tikka Khan at both Government House and the cantonment. Bangabandhu had said that if Tikka Khan wanted to see him, he should come and call on him at his residence. In this background, clarification was sought whether Bangabandhu would insist on Yahya calling on him at his residence. I immediately reported this to Bangabandhu, who directed that the officer should be informed that if Yahya came to Dhaka, Bangabandhu would see him and that the venue of such a meeting could be the President’s House, although Yahya was also quite welcome to visit him at his residence.
Yahya arrived in Dhaka on 15 March. Bangabandhu met him on the morning of 16 March. The meeting lasted for about an hour. When Bangabandhu returned, he invited his senior party colleagues
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for discussions. I was also called in. Indeed, for the coming weeks, this was the procedure: after every meeting held with Yahya or his advisers, a meeting was held to review the discussions. Bangabandhu reported that Yahya had begun by offering explanations for his action in postponing the National Assembly. Bangabandhu had charged him with a serious lapse, in failing to consult Bangabandhu as the leader of the majority party, before taking such a decision. Yahya then stated that he would like to find a way out of the present situation, whereupon Sheikh told him that, in view of all that happened and the mood of the people, nothing short of acceptance of the demands raised by him on 7 March, in particular immediate withdrawal of Martial Law, and the transfer of power to the elected representatives of the people, would suffice. Yahya then said that he had been advised that there were legal difficulties in withdrawing Martial Law before a Constitution was framed. Thereupon, Bangabandhu said that he would ask his legal experts to meet Yahya’s advisers to discuss this matter and convince them that no legal difficulty would arise.
Following this, Bangabandhu asked me to meet Lt. General Peerzada the same evening, to discuss the point about the supposed legal difficulty. When I met Peerzada that evening, I charged him with the gross impropriety of postponing the Assembly in the way it had been done. He appeared uncomfortable and defensive. He then came to the question of the demand for the immediate withdrawal of Martial Law and the transfer of power to the elected representatives. He argued that if Martial Law were withdrawn before a Constitution was framed, there would be a legal vacuum. I countered this argument by saying that, during the interim period between the withdrawal of Martial Law and the adoption of a Constitution, an Interim Arrangements Order (in effect a provisional Constitution) could be in force; this could be promulgated by the president/chief Martial Law administrator, by the same Order by which he revoked Martial Law. This argument was to feature prominently in the ensuing negotiations.
On the following morning of 17 March, Bangabandhu met Yahya and reiterated his demand for the withdrawal of Martial Law and the transfer of power to elected representatives. Yahya again mentioned legal difficulties and stated that he had sent for Justice Cornelius, now his legal adviser, to consider these questions. A meeting between Yahya’s advisers and the Awami League team was proposed. On the evening of 17 March, Syed Nazrul Islam, Tajuddin Ahmad and I were
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deputed to sit with Yahya’s advisers, namely Peerzada, Cornelius, and Colonel Hassan (the judge advocate general). The meeting commenced with Peerzada observing that the discussions between Bangabandhu and Yahya that morning had proceeded on the basis that Yahya would make a proclamation. According to him, Bangabandhu had proposed that the elected members from the eastern wing should draw up a Constitution for the eastern wing separately, and the elected members from the western wing draw up a Constitution for the western wing; thereafter, they should sit together to make a Constitution for Pakistan. It was also indicated that provision should be made for autonomy for the eastern wing on the basis of Six Points. In the western wing, the provinces would have autonomy to the extent provided to a province under the 1962 Constitution; the additional powers would remain with the Centre. Cornelius suggested that such an Instrument – a Provisional Constitution – should be
to force through a resolution of the National Assembly. It was suggested that it would be best, before the drafting of the Instrument commenced, for the advisers of both sides to sit in a plenary meeting with Bangabandhu and Yahya so that basic guidelines could be obtained from both.
It is not correct as stated in the Pakistan government’s White Paper that a Martial Law Regulation had already been drafted on 17 March, providing for the setting up of a Council of Ministers to aid and advise the governors of the provinces or that such a regulation had provided for the Martial Law to recede into the background. The discussions, in fact, were exploratory and most of the time was spent in going over ground related to the question of a legal vacuum which, according to Cornelius and Peerzada, would occur if Martial Law were to be revoked before a Constitution was adopted. A counterargument was put that an Interim Arrangements Order could be brought into force by a proclamation, which would provide the bridge between the withdrawal of Martial Law and the adoption of a constitution.
It is now on record that, following the meeting of 17 March, Yahya Khan asked General Tikka Khan to ‘get ready’ and, accordingly, on the morning of 18 March, Major-Generals Khadim Husain Raja and Rao Farman Ali prepared the blueprint for Operation Searchlight – the code name given to the plan for a military crackdown all over the province, to be effective on the night of 25 March 1971.4
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4 Siddiq Salik, Witness to Surrender, Appendix III (Dhaka: The University Press Limited, 1997).
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On the morning of 19 March, Bangabandhu had another meeting with Yahya and emphasised that the only solution was for the withdrawal of Martial Law and transfer of power to the elected representatives. An Interim Arrangements Order could be in force during the interim period. Such an Order could be made by a presidential proclamation. The same evening, Yahya’s advisers sat with the Awami League team.
It is not correct, as the Pakistan government White Paper states, that the president’s team had provided a Martial Law regulation to meet the demands of the Awami League ….as far as was legally possible’. There was no indication of the existence of any such Martial Law Regulation having been drafted. Indeed, the following morning, a good deal of time was taken up over the argument of a legal vacuum and it was only, thereafter, that the question of the drafting of an Instrument came up in the discussions.
On the morning of 21 March, Bangabandhu met Yahya. On this occasion, Bangabandhu was accompanied by Syed Nazrul Islam, Tajuddin Ahmad, Capt. Mansur Ali, Khandaker Mushtaque Ahmed, A. H. M. Kamaruzzaman, and I. On Yahya’s side, Peerzada, Cornelius, and Colonel Hassan were present. Yahya appeared agitated over an incident from the previous day, when army trucks passing through Tongi had been attacked by the public and an exchange of fire had taken place between the army and the people. He said that such attacks were unacceptable and that negotiations could not progress if such actions were not stopped. To this, Bangabandhu responded that such actions could only be stopped if negotiations were successfully completed without further delay.
Indeed, it was one of the first demonstrations of an armed resistance to the military. The White Paper reports that people had obstructed what it called ‘the normal movement of army supplies by Pakistani Ship “MV Swat,” when to the Bangalis these “supplies” represented arms intended to massacre the people’. The atmosphere became extremely tense. Yahya, in an angry tone, said that although he had come to negotiate and had ordered the army to exercise restraint, he could not tolerate the Awami League obstructing the movement of ‘military supplies’. Bangabandhu also reacted strongly, saying that while negotiations were ongoing, it was expected that the army would remain in the barracks. Yahya countered by saying that
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the movement of army supplies must continue, even if they stayed in the barracks. Bangabandhu then stated that the movement of such army personnel, in trucks, was a provocation to the people since they had been fired upon, earlier, by military personnel. Indeed, very near Joydevpur, where the latest encounter had taken place only a few days earlier, innocent young unarmed persons had been fired upon by army personnel, killing some of them. This gave reason to the angry response by the local people. Bangabandhu urged that, given the roused feelings of the people, the army should not offer further provocation. He also said that if unarmed people were being shot at, ultimately they may also be forced to take up arms to shoot back. Therefore, it was desirable that there should be a political solution without further bloodshed.
This strong statement by Bangabandhu seemed to have had some effect on Yahya, who then reverted to the question of a political solution by saying that he was a simple man and although he was ready, in principle, to accept Bangabandhu’s demands, he had been told by his experts that the withdrawal of Martial Law before a Constitution came into force would create a legal vacuum. Cornelius picked up this point and read a short lecture on constitutional law and the need for an ultimate source of authority in any legal system. I immediately countered by saying that there need be no such vacuum if an Instrument was promulgated by Yahya in the form of an Interim Arrangements Order, which would be valid and remain in force till such time as the Constitution was adopted. Since arguments on this point tended to go on, I thought there might be a way out by suggesting that this point could be examined by a constitutional expert, such as A. K. Brohi, whose views would be adopted by them. I knew that Brohi was in Dhaka and was confident that his opinion would support the Awami League position since it was legally sound. I also knew that Cornelius specially respected A. K. Brohi and was, therefore, likely to accept this suggestion. My assessment proved to be right, for Cornelius reacted by saying that such an opinion would be helpful. I undertook to obtain and forward such an opinion. Bangabandhu turned to Yahya and said that it was for experts to find a way to give effect to the political decision that they would arrive at. ‘If we agree to give the necessary directions it will be the task of the experts to give effect to them’, he asserted.
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It was then proposed that the basic points to be incorporated in the proposed proclamation should include the following:
a) Withdrawal of Martial Law. b) Transfer of power to elected representatives. c) Autonomy of the eastern wing (It was emphasised that this must be on the basis of the Six Points Formula).
It was agreed that the president’s advisers would sit with the Awami League team the same evening to discuss how to give effect to this decision.
Yahya raised the point that he thought it would be necessary for him to consult West Pakistani leaders, to which Bangabandhu said that this was a matter for him and he was free to proceed as he wished. Yahya said that he considered it essential for him to seek the concurrence of the West Pakistani political leaders as, otherwise, it would be too great a responsibility for him. He also said that he wanted a signed letter from all the political leaders requesting him to make a proclamation.
Yahya then proposed to invite the West Pakistani leaders and, in particular, Bhutto, to Dhaka. Bangabandhu repeated that the president was free to do so and that was a matter for him to decide. Bangabandhu, however, said that he would not meet Bhutto directly but Yahya could meet him separately. His reaction was, in part, an expression of resentment at the way in which Bhutto and his party had conducted themselves during, and after, the discussions held barely six weeks earlier. A more important reason was that Bhutto and Yahya were seen as basically representing the same interests and, therefore, to allow them to negotiate separately would result in conceding a significant negotiating advantage to them.
I suggested that a working draft be prepared by the government team, which could draw upon the resources of the law ministry. It was suggested that the legal drafting team of the Ministry of Law be sent for. A copy of the draft was to be sent to the Awami League team as soon as it was ready.
On the morning of 21 March, Bangabandhu sent for me. I found him in the midst of a discussion with Tajuddin Ahmad. He told me that he had been thinking about the issue of transfer of power, and he felt that it would be expedient to press for an immediate transfer of power only in the provinces and that, given the mood of the people,
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it would not be advisable for the Awami League to be seen to be taking over power at the Centre. It seems there were several reasons that led him to this conclusion: 1. The mood, particularly among the students, was that the people’s movement should not be compromised and that the Awami League should not, for the sake of ‘power’ compromise on its demands. Taking power at the Centre could well be projected as such a compromise. Indeed some of the student leaders who had met Bangabandhu earlier, made this point to me forcefully. 2. Taking power at the Centre, in the absence of a Constitution, would expose the Awami League to the risk of being ineffective at the Centre and thus discrediting themselves even before the Constitution could be framed. 3. Taking power in the province only would be a formula whereby the Awami League could consolidate its position in East Pakistan without assuming responsibility for the Centre, particularly as it would find it difficult to discharge this responsibility given the preponderance of Punjabis in the bureaucracy and army. 4. This would also enable the Awami League to muster the resources of the provincial government and, in particular, the police and the EPR, to face a situation of armed confrontation, the possibility of which had begun to emerge. It appeared that Yahya might himself go along with this formula, since he could thereby retain his position at the Centre. Accordingly, Bangabandhu and Tajuddin Ahmad sought an immediate meeting with Yahya. They told him that, in the present circumstances, provision should only be made for transfer of power in the provinces.
In the meantime, an exhaustive written opinion, formulated and signed by A. K. Brohi, was delivered to Colonel Hassan. The Pakistan government’s White Paper is, therefore, guilty of blatant falsehood in asserting that the Awami League failed to produce a constitutional expert to support the point regarding the legal validity of the draft proclamation.
On 21 March, a draft presidential proclamation, said to be prepared by Colonel Hassan, was ready and a person was sent to collect it. We (members of the Awami League team) examined this
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draft. It had obviously been prepared hurriedly. It is noteworthy that it had provided for elected members from the eastern wing to sit as a separate committee to frame provisions relating to that wing and similarly for elected members from the western wing to sit as a separate committee. It provided that the proclamation of Martial Law would stand revoked from the day on which ministers of the provincial governments took oath. Upon scrutiny of this draft, the Awami League team found that the draft was incomplete in many respects and imprecise in a number of formulations. First of all, it was our view that the revocation should not be a long drawn out process, becoming effective only after the taking of the oath by the provincial ministers. We thought that the proclamation should take effect more promptly. We suggested a formula whereby the proclamation would take effect on appointment of the provincial governors, or on expiry of seven days from promulgation, whichever was earlier.
Bhutto had arrived on the afternoon of 21 March. I remember, when the revised draft was presented, Cornelius had been moved to say that this was indeed an improved and more complete draft. I replied that this should not be described as the Awami League draft, but the entire task of drafting should be regarded as a joint exercise. A clause by clause reading of the amended draft proclamation then began. Peerzada mentioned that he would be meeting Bhutto’s advisers, and had earlier indicated that a copy of the revised draft had been sent to Bhutto.
In Bhutto’s own language, the position on his arrival was as follows: ‘At 7.30 that evening I met President Yahya Khan, at President’s House. The President informed me of the series of meetings he had held with Sheikh Mujibur Rahman from the 16 to the 20. In view of the headway made, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman had addressed a Press Conference on the 18th in which he said that progress had been achieved. As a result, the experts of the Awami League and of the President also held discussions on the proposed Constitutional arrangements. The President proceeded to inform me about the proposal made by the Awami League leader.’ The salient features of the proposal were that Martial Law be withdrawn immediately and power transferred in the five provinces without affecting a similar transfer in the Central Government. According to this proposal the President would continue running the Central Government as was being done at the time or, if he so chose, with the assistance of advisers not drawn from the peoples’ representatives. It was also proposed that the National Assembly be divided ab initio into two committees, one for West Pakistan comprised of the elected representatives from West Pakistan and the other
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for Bangladesh in Dacca. The committees would prepare their separate reports within a stipulated period and submit their proposals to the National Assembly. It would then be the task of the National Assembly to discuss and debate the proposals of both the committees and find out ways and means of living together. Under an interim arrangement, which was to be an amended form of the 1962 Constitution, East Pakistan would be given autonomy on the basis of Six Points and the Provinces of the West wing would have powers as provided in the 1962 Constitution, but would be free to work out their quantum of autonomy according to a mutually acceptable procedure, subject to the President’s approval. The entire scheme was to be published in the form of a Presidential Proclamation.5
Bhutto then went on to state that:
After narrating the proposal, Yahya told me that he had made it clear to Sheikh Mujib that Yahya’s concurrence to the proposal would be subject primarily to my agreement, but that he (Yahya) would be more satisfied if the other leaders of West Pakistan would give their consent.6
On the morning of 22 March, Bangabandhu called on Yahya to resume discussions, while the written text of the draft proclamation was under discussion by the two teams. The White Paper’s account, that the president prevailed upon Bhutto himself to meet Bangabandhu, is not true. Bangabandhu, when he had gone for a meeting with Yahya, found Bhutto present and took the opportunity to draw him aside to have a few words with him. According to Bangabandhu, he suggested to Bhutto that it would be better for them to talk outside, on the veranda, so that they may not be overheard. Bhutto’s own account of this meeting is in the following words:
… Mujibur Rahman remarked that the proposals had been communicated to the President and it was for the President to convince me, and went on to say that once I agreed in principle to the proposals, they could hold formal discussions, but until then the discussions were of an informal nature …. Sheikh Mujibur Rahman repeated what he told me in the Military Secretary’s room, and went on to say that things had now gone too far and there was no turning back. According to him the best way out was for me to agree to his proposals. He emphasised that there was no other alternative. … He cautioned me against the military and told me not to trust them: if they destroy him first, they would also destroy me. I replied that I would much rather be destroyed by the military than by history.7
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5 Z. A. Bhutto, op.cit.
6 Ibid.
7 Ibid.
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Bhutto’s account confirms the basic position that was maintained by Bangabandhu, which I recall from his report of the meeting. After this encounter between Bangabandhu and Bhutto, the impression conveyed, both inside and outside, was that there was a faint possibility of a political settlement. I remember some foreign correspondents saying that the ‘two committees’ approach may just be what Yahya and Bhutto wanted in order to secure their position in West Pakistan.
On 22 March, there seemed to be a fleeting hope of a possible settlement. In the evening, the Awami League team went through the draft proclamation in my office. Bangabandhu, and other party leaders, came and the entire draft was read carefully, given that it seemed that such a draft may ultimately become a proclamation. We worked throughout the night of 22 March to finalise the draft.
23 March was an extraordinary day. This had been celebrated as Pakistan’s Republic Day. This year, however, on this day, thousands of Bangladesh flags were on sale. I remember, as I drove out of my office at 6 a.m. with copies of the revised draft, I bought a Bangladesh near the stadium and unfurled it on my car. I arrived at Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’s house at about 7 a.m. with the revised draft. Soon, many processions came, as in a flood, and hoisted Bangladesh flags on the gate. Indeed, most of the houses and cars bore Bangladesh flags.
As the Awami League team drove into President’s House at 11.30 that morning, with Bangladesh flags on their cars, the hostile reaction of the military officers at President’s House was all too visible. When the Awami League team entered, they were told that M. M. Ahmed and some other financial experts had been brought over by the government to examine the implications of the financial and economic provisions. Indeed, M.M. Ahmed started by saying that he thought that the Six Points scheme could be given effect to with some minor practical adaptations. Peerzada proposed that M. M. Ahmed sit with the Awami League’s financial experts, and mentioned the name of Nurul Islam. The Awami League financial experts, Nurul Islam, Anisur Rahman, Rehman Sobhan, and others, had been meeting daily at Nurul Islam’s house; in fact, the financial and economic provisions in the Awami League’s revised draft had been vetted by them. The Awami League team did not, however, wish to accept this proposal for a separate meeting between financial experts
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as it was seen as a time-killing manoeuvre. The Awami League team had begun to sense that Yahya’s advisers were trying to prolong discussions on each clause; this was clearly seen as a dilatory tactic. At the evening sitting, M. M. Ahmed produced a number of written slips by way of amendments and insertions to the draft. M. M. Ahmed even showed some flexibility in respect of foreign trade and aid. He said foreign trade could be left with the eastern wing without any difficulty. About aid, he said the difficulty could be overcome if foreign policy aspects were left with the Centre. About the reconstruction of the State Bank, he said this also could be done and that, in the interim period, the Dhaka branch of the State Bank could function as the Reserve Bank of Bangladesh. There could also be a bifurcation of the foreign exchange account – the earnings generated by exports from the eastern wing could be maintained in an account with the Dhaka branch. Bifurcation of tax collection presented a more complex problem, and it was agreed that the Awami League team would present a memorandum on how to deal with this matter in the interim phase.
The Awami League team left to join their economic experts, who had been meeting continuously at Professor Nurul Islam’s residence. The amendments prepared by M. M. Ahmed were discussed and carefully formulated provisions dealing with the tax collection, management of the foreign exchange account, as well as mode of dealing with foreign aid negotiations were prepared for presentation to Yahya’s advisers at the meeting later that evening.
On the evening of 23 March, when the Awami League team returned to resume discussion on the economic provisions, they learnt that Yahya had not been at President’s House the whole day. Indeed, Peerzada mentioned something about his being in the cantonment, and subsequent evidence was to show that 23 March had been the day when the ‘Generals’ had held their meeting. Now we know that the plan for ‘Operation Searchlight’, which had been prepared earlier by Major General Rao Farman Ali and Major General Khadim Raja was read out to General Hamid and Tikka Khan on 20 March. The two generals personally undertook helicopter rides on 24 March, to pass the instructions to trusted brigade commanders outside Dhaka. The inference from these circumstances seems irresistible – that the discussions, which M. M. Ahmed held with the Awami League team regarding financial and economic
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provisions, were being prolonged by the government merely to consume time and to provide a cover while real preparations were afoot in the cantonment for the implementation of a ‘military solution’. By the morning of 24 March, the Awami League team had concluded discussions of the economic provisions and, indeed, a clause-by-clause reading of the entire draft proclamation.
Bangabandhu had suggested that we indicate to the government team that the name of the federation should be Confederation of Pakistan. The government team strongly objected to this arguing that this represented a fundamental change in our position. We argued that a change in the name did not amount to a fundamental change; as all the substantive provisions remained intact a limited but viable federal government had been adequately provided for. Cornelius seemed to appreciate the argument, but countered with the suggestion that perhaps the word ‘Union’ could replace ‘Confederation’. The Awami League reiterated its position and stated that this point of difference related to a single word and, if the issue was not resolved, could be resolved at a meeting between Bangabandhu and Yahya later, when the final draft was placed before them for their consideration.
The Awami League team also sensed that the situation outside was becoming very grave. The Army had moved to unload the MV Swat in Chittagong through the use of military force when hundreds of thousands of civilians blocked the road leading to Chittagong Port. Reports of military operations also came in from Rangpur. We heard that the army was preparing to launch an assault. It was, therefore, felt that the meeting on the evening of the 24th should be a conclusive
, where the discussions should be brought to a close as there was little point in further prolonging technical discussions.
In the evening, the reading of all the clauses and schedules of the aft was concluded. I asked Peerzada, with a note of urgency, as to when the draft could be finalised. From the Awami League side, it was proposed that I should sit with Cornelius that very night to finalise the draft, so that it could be put before Bangabandhu and Yahya the next morning. Cornelius was agreeable but Peerzada held him back saying, ‘No, we have some discussions this evening, you may meet tomorrow morning’. When I suggested that a time be fixed for the following day, Peerzada again intervened to say that this could be done over the telephone and that I would be contacted.
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Then Peerzada turned to me and said, ‘When do you think the proclamation should be made?’, to which I replied that it should have been made ‘the day before yesterday’, and that the way things were going (I had the situation in Chittagong and Rangpur in mind, where the army had fired on civilians and Bangali policemen) time may be running out. It was in this context that Tajuddin Ahmad said that the Awami League team thought that they had discussed everything exhaustively and that there was nothing more to discuss. All that remained to be done was for a draft to be put before Bangabandhu and Yahya for their ultimate approval. Once approved, the proclamation could be promulgated. This statement of Tajuddin Ahmad’s has been sought to be misconstrued to make it appear that it was the Awami League that broke off the negotiations. In fact, this was far from the truth. Since exhaustive discussions had taken place, what was required was to finalise a draft to be put before Bangabandhu and Yahya. I waited for a telephone call throu ut the fateful day of 25 March. The telephone call never came. Indeed, when I finally left Bangabandhu at his residence at around 10.30 p.m., on 25 March, Bangabandhu asked me whether I had received such a telephone call. I confirmed to him that I had not. That night, the Pakistan military launched its premeditated attack upon the people. Thus began the genocide and bloodbath, which we had tried to prevent through a negotiated settlement.
Throughout the day of 25 March, we had received telephone calls from many districts expressing apprehension of a military assault. Our instruction was that, at the first intimation of an attack, we should resist with whatever arms we could find. Police armouries and other sources could yield such arms. The resistance would be against an occupation force, as from the moment the military attacked, Bangladesh would be involved in a war of liberation.
Chapter 7
Military Crackdown, Jail and Homecoming
(25 March 1971 to 10 January 1972)
Earlier in the day, on 25 March 1971, Tajuddin, Amirul Islam, and I had been told that we should disperse to the old town as soon as the military moved. We had been told to go to a house in English Bazar, owned by Fazlul Karim, an Awami League city leader. From here, if the situation worsened, we were to cross the river and move into the countryside.
I had come home at about 8 p.m., to find several persons waiting for me. Some of the civil servants who had maintained contact with us came to seek guidance. I told them that a military crackdown may be imminent. We had been told to move out of Dhaka, and that there should be total resistance to the military. Keeping this in mind, they should play their role. I found Selig Harrison, the Washington Post correspondent, waiting for me as well. I had briefed him earlier that there were only two options: (a) a political settlement accepting our demands or (b) an insane option – a military onslaught. As soon as I saw him, I said, ‘The insane option has been adopted and I am leaving home’.
Amirul Islam, who lived next door to me, and I left home in a Volkswagen car belonging to Musa, a businessman. We were meant to collect Tajuddin Ahmad from his home in Satmasjid Road, Dhanmandi, and proceed to the old city. As we were driving towards Dhanmandi, we noticed that barriers had been placed at different points. On our request, an opening was made in the barrier near Salimullah Hall to enable our car to move towards New Market. At that point, we decided that we should pay a final visit to Bangabandhu’s residence at Road No. 32, before going to Tajuddin Ahmad’s house. The house looked deserted. We were shown in and
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went towards the dining room at the rear of the house, where Bangabandhu was sitting at the table with Begum Mujib. Upon seeing us, he came out and said, ‘Why haven’t you gone to the old town, as you were told to do?’ We explained the delay caused by the stream of persons and journalists seeking guidance. We told him that we were on our way to collect Tajuddin Bhai but had wanted to first take our leave of Bangabandhu. He told us not to delay and came down the passage with us to bid us farewell. In response to our anxiety about what he would be doing, he said, ‘You leave that to me, from now we are independent. Our people are united and will fight’. He expressed confidence to us in victory being assured in our liberation war which had begun.
We proceeded to Tajuddin Ahmad’s residence. He greeted us by saying that he had been dealing with visitors continuously – even a number of women who were aspiring to be nominated as candidates for the reserved seats in the National Assembly. Little did they realise that its existence was being overtaken by events. Just then, an Assembly member from Comilla, Muzaffar, rushed in to inform us that EPR units had already moved to positions outside the New Market, from their Peelkhana headquarters – thus, effectively, blocking our access to the old city. This compelled us to seek refuge for the night in the Dhanmandi area. As it could be difficult for all three to be housed in one place, we decided to seek out separate places. I suggested that I spend the night nearby at my nephew’s house. I was dropped there with the understanding that I would be collected the next day, and we would proceed together to the old city and beyond. That night was to be unforgettable, for the sound of shooting was not of gunshots but of heavier guns (cannons), of which we had no earlier experience.
In the next few days, the most disturbing reports began to spread of the wanton use of force against innocent civilians. Tanks bore down on them, living in slums along the sides of the roads, leaving a trail of death and destruction as fires began to spread. In the university area, students’ residence halls, teachers’ residences, and even Shaheed Minar (an inanimate but powerful symbol of people’s resistance) were prime targets. Bangabandhu’s residence had been one of their earliest targets, and it was some days before I learnt that he was alive and had been taken into custody.
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As a curfew had been declared for the next two days, I lost contact with Amirul Islam and Tajuddin Bhai. They explained to me that they had tried to send a message through a young boy, but he was unable to find the house. After the curfew was lifted on 27 March, I began to move from house to house, as the persons with whom I could stay were terrified of the consequences if I were to be found in their house. I, therefore, did not spend more than one night in any house. On 3 April, I was in a house near Lalmatia, when we heard a knock at the door soon after curfew had been declared. I learnt that a military team had come searching for me. Realising that my hosts may be in great danger if they did a search and found me, I came out and presented myself. The military officer informed me that I was under arrest. I was put into their vehicle and driven to the cantonment. At first, I was kept waiting in a small room and then taken to the GOC’s house and led into another room. I was told, ‘This is the room in which your leader stayed before he was flown to West Pakistan’.
This is how I learnt that Bangabandhu had been taken there, where I spent the night. The next evening, there was a thunderstorm (kaal boishakhi) and all the lights went off. I heard the sound, of the guards, feet running towards my room. The door burst open and torch lights flashed. They said, ‘We cannot take any chances! Your supporters are all around us. And we cannot risk any attempt to escape’. After some time, the lights came on again and the night passed.
The next day, they drove me to the airport where I was made to board a plane, apparently bound for West Pakistan. The plane landed in Karachi and parked on the runway. From there, I was put on another plane and flown to Rawalpindi. I was put into a microbus, its windows covered with dark curtains. Throughout the journey, I had to travel with armed escorts. Two intelligence officers, who sat with me, kept asking the same questions: ‘You were seen leaving Sheikh Mujib’s house on the night of 25 March and were seen going to Tajuddin Ahmad’s house and coming out with him. Where were you intending to go?’ My answer to them was, ‘We were heading for the old town but I lost contact with them after the night of 25 March’. They asked this question repeatedly, and got the same answer. After what seemed to be several hours, the microbus came to a halt and I heard the sound of gates being opened and locked. I was told to get down from the microbus and found myself in the entry area of
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Haripur Central Jail, which I later learnt was in the Hazara district of the NWFP.
I was registered as a prisoner and led into an enclosure with eighteen cells. I was put into one of the cells and shown another cell which was to serve as a toilet. The other cells were vacant, I was told that I was to be kept in solitary confinement. When the superintendent of jails visited me the next day, I asked in a very lawyer like way, ‘Can I see my detention order? And I would like to exercise my rights as a prisoner to inform my family of my situation and seek legal assistance’. The superintendent politely, but firmly, told me that my detention was extraordinary and, therefore, no jail rules were applicable in my case. I was also not to speak to any of the warders nor would I be able to go out of the enclosure. I stayed in solitary confinement in this enclosure for almost nine months. When I complained of feeling unwell and asked to go to hospital, my request was refused; I was told that the doctor would come and see me in my cell. From around 8 April, I was visited by military intelligence officers, two at a time, who would interrogate me. The first round of questions was a repetition about where I was heading with Tajuddin Ahmad. When they failed to get any answer other than what I had initially said, they angrily told me that I was not cooperating and that I must have known that Mr. Tajuddin was in India. The interrogation continued from one day to the next; the officers tried to insinuate that our movement had foreign links, apart from the repeated suggestion that we were acting under Indian instigation, which I emphatically denied. They came up with a further suggestion that the US was also behind our ‘secessionist’ move. They wanted to know whether I had visited the US Consulate General in Dhaka. I told them that I had attended a reception there in January/ February, when the reception had ended with a film show. After a few days, they came up with a new tack, namely that the Soviet Union was behind our movement. Since my denials continued, the interrogators left saying that our leader was also being questioned. They left me some sheets of paper saying that, if I wanted to save myself, I should put down some information which would be useful to them.
When they returned some weeks later, I handed them the papers on which I had summarised the major developments regarding our Six Points demands, the election campaign, the abrupt postponement
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of the National Assembly which prevented us from presenting our draft Constitution, and the attempts to negotiate a peaceful transfer of power to the elected representatives which had been prevented by the military operation launched on 25 March. They read this paper and seemed annoyed and disappointed, telling me that they were sorry that I could not avail of the opportunity that they had generously offered me to save myself. Instead I had put down what was a defence case for my leader and myself!
On 5 September, just after dusk, my cell door was opened and a military officer entered and said that he had come to deliver a communication from the Martial Law Headquarters. A simple typed paper, from ‘Headquarters, Martial Law Administrator Zone F, dated 2 September, 1971’, was handed over to me. It stated:
Subject: Trial by Special Military Court. 1. You are hereby informed that you shall be tried by a Special Military Court on charge of conspiring to wage war against Pakistan (Pakistan Penal Code Section 121-A read with Section 1211), committing an act to the prejudice of good order and public safety (MLR 16a) etc. 2. You will be served with the charge sheet and the abstract of evidence in due course of time. It was signed ‘for Martial Law Administrator’ by Lieutenant Colonel Wazir Khan Malik. The text of this letter is reproduced in Appendix 2.
I immediately protested, saying that a prosecution notice could not be vague and open-ended stating ‘etc.’ The officer, who seemed to be of the rank of major, replied that he knew nothing about the form of the notice and was only directed to serve the notice and obtain my signature on the copy. I told him I that not only did I have serious objections about the notice, but also about the systematic denial of a prisoner’s rights and of my continuing solitary confinement which, by that time, had exceeded five months. He replied that I could submit a petition through the jail authorities. When I asked the jail authorities whom I should address this petition, I was told it should be addressed to the competent authority’.
I received no reply to the petition, but I was informed of the possibility of a visit by my family members in the next few days. Probably the happiest day of my confinement was the day when my mother, my sister, my wife Hameeda, and my two daughters Dina, aged two years, and Sara, aged four years, were brought in to the enclosure. They had flown from Karachi after receiving permission to
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see me and had driven to the jail from Rawalpindi. I was able to spend a couple of hours with them. It was almost impossible to talk freely as an officer kept a close watch on what we were saying. I told them that I had only been given one letter and had sent out one letter. My requests for an exchange of letters with my family, for a radio and newspapers – which prisoners are entitled to under the jail rules – or for consulting lawyers, were consistently ignored. I optimistically hoped that a trial would start following the notice of prosecution and that lawyers and family members would then be allowed to attend.
I now began to wait expectantly for the trial to begin. I was informed by the jail superintendent that a military team had arrived to set up a courtroom in one of the rooms of the jail hospital.
n late October. I was told that in the afternoon, I would be taken out for a ‘rehearsal’ walk to the jail hospital, following the route that had been approved for taking me to the courtroom for my trial, which was to start shortly. I felt this to be a great privilege as this was the first time I had an opportunity to walk outside my enclosure.
But then, about ten days later, I was told that the military team that had set up the courtroom, and was to make arrangements for the trial, had left suddenly. The jail superintendent confirmed their departure. But noting my unhappiness at the postponement of the trial, and therefore of possible visits from my family and lawyers, he said that the team may have gone temporarily for the imminent Eid festival but could be expected to return soon.
However, they were never to return as, by the end of November, it was, apparent that preparations were being made for war. The washed jail buildings, including the one that housed my cell, were all being painted a mud-colour. I was told that this was part of ‘civil defence’ preparations. From, 1 December, there was a total ‘black out in the entire jail compound, which had normally been lit up with very bright and powerful lights. A siren began to sound; each night, when it sounded, I was told to come out of the cell. On a cold December night, it truly was a punishment to come out from under a blanket and stand in the open as biting cold Himalayan winds blew down from the north. When I showed reluctance to take part in this ‘civil defence’ drill, I was told that as war had begun and planes could be heard flying overhead, we had to stand outside to protect ourselves from bombs. After suffering this for several nights, I was able to persuade my warder (prisonguard) that I may be
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permitted to remain under my blanket, and he under his, when the sirens sounded, since the risk to our lives from a possible bomb, which was not likely to be wasted on us, was less than certain death from pneumonia which would result from exposure to the biting cold. He agreed and we defied the shrill call of the siren for the next few days.
Then, quite dramatically, the sirens fell silent. The pitch darkness inflicted by the blackout ended as the dazzling glare of the bright and powerful lights that normally lit up the jail compound suddenly returned, as if to announce that the war was over. Not only was it over, but it must have ended well for us since the visit by the jail superintendent on 16 December 1971 had him doing all he could to demonstrate special concern for my comfort and welfare. He came into my cell and expressed surprise that there was no armchair in the room, nor any carpet on the floor. He ordered that these be provided immediately; also an adjoining cell be opened and a sofa set placed there so I could use it as a sitting room. When my midday meal was brought, I was surprised by the extent to which it had been upgraded. I had been given naan roti with daal served in a tin bowl for nine months. Now, my meal – a vegetable and meat curry in addition to daal – were served on a tray in china dishes. I was told that the jail doctor had prescribed this improved diet! The superintendent then invited me to walk around the jail compound and inspect the sections in which different types of productive work were done by prisoners, e.g., weaving carpets, doing carpentry, or tending to the compound. He was at pains to say that a prisoner like me, who was there for political reasons, usually left as a hero and went on to assume high political office. Before leaving, they usually planted a tree. He felt, as one who was now expected to be released and to assume some political office that I, too, should plant a tree. I expressed appreciation for this gesture of respect, but declined with thanks. During the next week, the jail superintendent came almost daily to enquire about my welfare but, when pressed by me about news of the outside world, said that he was not permitted to share this with me. The most he could say was that I may not have to stay there much longer. This proved to be true as on 28 December he came to me and said that I should pack up as he had received an order that I was to ‘shift to new location’. My immediate reaction was one of joy, at the prospect of
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leaving the jail after nearly nine months of solitary confinement. But, this was overtaken by anxiety as to what awaited me. After a few suspenseful hours, I was taken to the jail office near the jail gate. The small sum of money I had on me which I had been required to hand over to the Superintendent when I had entered was returned to me. I was also given about half a dozen books that had been sent by my family, but had never been delivered to me. I acknowledged receipt of these, along with a few of my clothes and a couple of notebooks, by signing a register. As these formalities were being completed, two tall persons in civilian clothes, but with short-cropped hair suggested that they were military personnel, entered and asked me to accompany them towards the jail gate. As I followed them out, I was escorted to a Volkswagen car and sat in the backseat with one of the two escorts, while the other took the seat next to the driver. At a little distance, I saw a military truck with armed personnel which followed our car as it left for what was, for me, an unknown destination.
As the car entered the highway, which I recognised as the Rawalpindi-Peshawar highway, it was directed towards Rawalpindi, but, my anxiety was heightened when it by-passed it. It was now dark, and the destination was still unknown.
After proceeding down the highway the car sharply turned into what appeared to be an unpaved road. I turned to my escort and asked where we were going. Noting the apprehension reflected in my query, he said, ‘You would like it’. Just then, I noticed that armed personnel with pointed machine guns had surrounded the car. Sensing danger, I asked where we were precisely going. A small bungalow in the distance was pointed out and the escort said that we were going there, and again repeated, ‘You will like it’. The armed guards made way for the car and it proceeded towards the bungalow. A senior officer came out and asked me to enter the bungalow. As I entered, he pointed to a row of rooms and asked me to enter room number one. I did so and was overwhelmed by emotion when I saw Bangabandhu standing there. He embraced me and said he had been waiting all day, and asked why it had take so long. I told him I had got myself ready in the afternoon, and it was not till evening that I was finally released. It had taken some hours to reach there. The place where we were was, I learnt, the compound of a police academy at Shihala, not far from Rawalpindi. Bangabandhu had been brought there two days
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earlier. He recounted that his journey from Mianwali jail started soon after 16 December; that day tension had mounted in the jail as Mianwali was the hometown of General Niazi, who had surrendered in Dhaka. The senior police official as in charge of Bangabandhu had told him that he felt it was unsafe for Bangabandhu to remain in that jail, and that he (the police officer) proposed to take him out, on his own responsibility, under police guard to a safer place. He had then taken Bangabandhu to a location where a major project had been completed and a number of vacant bungalows were available.
After he had been there for a couple of days, a helicopter had arrived and he had been brought to Shihala around 26 December. He told me that Bhutto had gone to the bungalow soon after his arrival. Bangabandhu asked him if he had also been placed in detention. Bhutto then told him that he had become president of Pakistan. Bangabandhu, laughingly, put the question to him: ‘How have you become president, when I got twice as many seats in the National Assembly?’ Bhutto was embarrassed and responded that Bangabandhu could become president if he desired. Bangabandhu replied, “No, I do not desire it, but I desire to go to Bangladesh as soon as possible’. Bhutto then told him that he would make necessary arrangements but needed a few days. Bangabandhu told him that he had gathered, from the conversation between the lawyers (Mr. Brohi and others) who had attended his trial some months earlier, that Kamal Hossain was also held in custody awaiting trial. Bangabandhu had, therefore, requested that I be brought to Shihala. The circumstances under which I was released from Haripur and brought to Shihala became clear.
The next few days were spent in pursing the request for arrangements to go to Bangladesh. It was clear that since over 90,000 Pakistani military personnel were prisoners of war in Bangladesh, this would ensure Bangabandhu’s safety and early return. The question, therefore, was of expediting logistical arrangements. Aziz Ahmed, who was still looking after foreign affairs, came to see us. He said that Bhutto would make an announcement regarding Bangabandhu’s departure for Bangladesh in the first week of January, when he was scheduled to address a public meeting in Karachi. He said that they were keen that we should be flown out in a Pakistani aircraft, but that presented a problem since it could not fly over India. He suggested
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that we be flown to some third country in a Pakistani plane, and other arrangements could be made from there. He suggested Tehran. We discussed this matter. Bangabandhu indicated that this was inappropriate as a transit point, as it would present an opportunity for political pressure to be exerted regarding Pakistani concerns. We should, therefore, insist on being flown to a neutral capital such as Geneva or Vienna. I suggested this to Aziz Ahmed, who responded negatively. When I kept pressing him to come up with an alternative suggestion, he proposed London. We readily accepted it since we had learnt, over the radio, that London had been an active centre from which support for the liberation war had been pursued. We were told we would be flown to London within the next few days; the night of 7 January was specifically indicated. We were informed that Bhutto would like to host a dinner for us at the President’s Guest House before we left. We would be driven from Shihala to the President’s Guest House, and would board the plane immediately after dinner. Bhutto arrived and, after initial greetings, he requested Bangabandhu to maintain links with Pakistan. Bangabandhu replied, ‘After what has happened, and the blood spilt which could have been avoided had you listened to us. Instead you unleashed a brutal armed assault. I cannot see how any relation with Pakistan is possible other than as between two sovereign states’. After Bhutto kept pressing him to consider his appeal, Bangabandhu said he would give him a reply after returning to Bangladesh. Bhutto then came up with an unexpected suggestion: that the departure be delayed till the following morning when the Shah of Iran was due and would like to meet Bangabandhu. This was immediately perceived by Bangabandhu to be a means of exerting pressure – which he had guarded against by declining to fly via Tehran. Then another pretext was presented for delaying our departure. It was said that, since a head of state was due in the morning, the air space in Pakistan would remain closed all night.
Bangabandhu and I then conferred. I pointed out that closing air space did not mean that a gate was locked and could not be opened; all it meant was that all flights had to get specific permission from air traffic control. Bhutto could issue instructions for that purpose. Bangabandhu then turned to Bhutto and said that he should ensure permission for our flight to leave that night; insisting that he did not wish to meet the Shah, and that we should be transported back to jail
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immediately if our departure could not take place after dinner as scheduled. Bhutto, realising the annoyance he was causing, conferred with his officials and then said that a plane would be instructed to be flown over from Karachi to ensure our departure after dinner. Bangabandhu was pleased to learn this.
Hearing this, I immediately suggested to Bangabandhu that he ask Bhutto to arrange for my wife and children, who had been in Karachi while I was in jail, to be put on that plane. It was like asking for a miracle, but it happened because Bhutto clearly did not want to refuse a request from Bangabandhu. Bhutto instructed the officers present to telephone Karachi and put my family on board. I learnt from Hameeda that they were given an hour’s notice before being taken to Karachi airport, having packed only a few clothes. They were not told where they were being taken, but were given the impression that they were being flown to Rawalpindi. It was only after they were on the plane that they were told that Rawalpindi was not the final destination, and that they were to be flown elsewhere from there.
We were driven to the airport. Bangabandhu was escorted by Bhutto up to the plane. As I entered the aircraft, I saw my wife, Hameeda, and Sara and Dina, my daughters, seated there. We were overjoyed at our reunion. I remember one of the first remarks of my four-yearold precocious daughter, Sara, who asked, ‘Were you in jail because you took part in the election?’ We spent much of the journey learning about the events of the nine months that we had been separated.
We were briefed that no announcement would be made about our plane journey until we were an hour away from London. The plane would inform the countries we were flying over that this was a Pakistani aircraft carrying ‘strategic cargo’. As we approached London, a message would be sent to the British authorities to say that Bangabandhu was due to land at London’s Heathrow airport around seven in the morning.
As we were escorted from the plane to the VIP lounge in London, I cannot forget the remark of the British police officer on duty outside the VIP lounge. Suddenly addressing Bangabandhu, with tears in his eyes, he said, ‘Sir, we had been praying for you’. It gave us some sense of how people the world over had been supporting our liberation struggle.
As I entered the VIP lounge, I heard an announcement that there was a telephone call for ‘Sheikh Mujibur Rahman’. Bangabandhu
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asked me to take the call. It was from Ian Sutherland of the British Foreign Office. I remembered meeting him in Dhaka in February 1971. He later retired as Sir Ian Sutherland, the British Ambassador in Moscow. He told me that the British government had received a message regarding our arrival only an hour earlier. He had, however, taken immediate steps to receive Bangabandhu. He had ordered a car and expected to be at the airport shortly. We should await his arrival as he had arranged accommodation and security in London. Bangabandhu told me to ask him how we could contact Justice Abu Sayeed Chowdhury. We were informed that Justice Chowdhury had left for Dhaka the previous day, but that the person in charge of the Bangladesh mission was Rezaul Karim, who had declared allegiance to Bangladesh and had been assisting Justice Abu Sayeed Chowdhury. Before I could call, Rezaul Karim phoned to enquire whether the news he had received was correct. When I told him it was, he, too, could not hold back his emotions and said he would leave for the airport immediately.
While we were waiting for them, the Pakistan High Commissioner, Nasim Ahmed, a former journalist, came and asked Bangabandhu, ‘Sir, I am here to welcome you. Please let me know what we can do for you?’ Bangabandhu replied, ‘You have done enough, thank you very much’.
Within a few minutes, Ian Sutherland arrived and conveyed the British government’s warm welcome to him. He said that arrangements had been made for accommodation at Claridge’s Hotel, where heads of state were normally accommodated. Bangabandhu thanked him but asked if it would be possible to arrange his stay at a modest hotel in Russell Square, where he had stayed on earlier visits to London. This would be easier for our people many of whom would want to see him. Sutherland replied, ‘Sir, this is the only thing I cannot arrange, because heads of state’s security can only be provided at Claridge’s Hotel? but we will see that any number of people who want to see you can do so, subject to security measures’.
In the meantime, Rezaul Karim had arrived and accompanied us in the car to the hotel. He gave us an account of the major events of the last nine months. We learned of the diplomatic activities conducted on behalf of the Mujibnagar government from London and other overseas centres, and of the active role played by overseas Bangalis.
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Syed Nazrul Islam and Tajuddin Ahmad reached us on the telephone on our arrival at Claridge’s Hotel. They informed us that an aircraft to fly for London from Dhaka could be arranged but that it would take at least two days for it to reach London. They had also been informed that the people of India, given the solidarity and support they had extended, were extremely keen for a short stopover in Delhi and Kolkata, on the way to Dhaka.
We were informed that a major press conference would be held in the biggest hall in the hotel. Bangabandhu asked me to draft a statement and gave me some basic guidelines. He said he would like to thank all the states, and all the peoples, who had supported our liberation war. He would call for recognition from states. He said that while he could obviously not thank the governments that had supported Pakistan, he would make a distinction between the people of those countries and their governments, as, for example, in the case of the United States where President Nixon had supported Pakistan, but senators and congress-men, and many journalists and citizens, had given us their strong support. A specific example was the dock workers who had refused to load arms into ships sailing to Pakistan from the United States.
During the course of the morning, the leader of the Opposition, Harold Wilson, followed by David Frost of the BBC, led the procession of visitors. Begum Abu Sayeed Chowdhury called to inform us that Justice Abu Sayeed Chowdhury had already gone to Dhaka. Mr. A. K. Khan was also one of the early visitors. Thousands of our citizens had begun to assemble outside the hotel, something that part London had never experienced before. Security officials controlling the entrance to the hotel needed individual identification to allow a person to enter. I was requested, several times, to go down to identify some of them. We were informed that Prime Minister Heath was out of London, at his country residence, Chequers. He was expected back in London shortly and would receive Bangabandhu at 10 Downing Street.
Prime Minister Heath welcomed us in the evening. He said that the British government, and he personally, had all the sympathy for the people of Bangladesh and that, in principle, they had decided to recognise independent Bangladesh. He wanted a little time to coordinate with the EU members to ensure simultaneous announce
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ments. Bangabandhu thanked him and said he appreciated the support extended by Britain. The fact that Justice Abu Sayeed Chowdhury and his colleagues were able to use London as a base for their diplomatic campaign for Bangladesh had been enormously valuable. He also expressed appreciation for the economic and material support for the reconstruction of the ravaged Bangladesh, which the prime minister had assured. When Mr. Heath asked Bangabandhu ‘Is there anything else we can do for you?, Bangabandhu’s prompt reply was, ‘Yes, you can do one more favour, if you could kindly help
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us with a plane to take us to Bangladesh as soon as possible’. Mr. Heath’s response was positive. He turned to his secretary and instructed him to see if his (the British prime minister’s) plane could be got ready and made available. The secretary came back after a few minutes saying that the prime minister’s plane could be made ready by 7 a.m. the next morning. It was their usual practice that the prime minister’s plane was accompanied by another relief aircraft, in case there was any mechanical problem en route. Two planes would, thus, be made available at 7 a.m. in the morning.
We returned to the hotel and immediately began to finalise our itinerary. Calculations were made for the time it would take us to reach Dhaka. We intended to reach Dhaka while there was still daylight. It was calculated that only one stopover was possible in India, if we were to arrive in Dhaka by 3 p.m. It was decided that it would only be possible to stopover in Delhi, and that it should be explained to the people of Kolkata that while it was not possible to stopover on this journey, Bangabandhu’s first visit outside the country would be to Kolkata. This promise was indeed kept as he visited Kolkata before the end of January. Another travel detail was that we had to discover the length of the runway at Dhaka airport since the prime minister’s plane required a minimum length of runway to land. Arrangements were made to measure the runway and transmit the information to us. Thus, we were thus able to leave by 7 a.m. on 9 January. There were two intermediate stops, at RAF bases in Cyprus and Sharjah for refuelling, before we landed in Delhi en route to Dhaka.
At the airport in Delhi, the prime minister of India, Indira Gandhi, her entire Cabinet, Members of Parliament, and other distinguished citizens were there to welcome Bangabandhu. It was an emotionally charged event, as Bangabandhu was welcomed with tears of joy. The chief of protocol, retired INA captain Mehboob Ahmed Khan, said that it was impossible to maintain diplomatic protocol for this unprecedented event. It seemed like a reunion of family members.
We were then told that a public meeting had been organised in the large open space next to the airport. Since our maximum stopover time was one and a half hours, Bangabandhu delivered a short address to the huge assembled audience in Bangla. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi (who had studied at Shantiniketan) did not need any translation.
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I was able to give a running translation to the defence minister, Jagjivan Ram.
In the meantime, we were happy to be informed that the runway in Dhaka had been measured and it was just long enough for the British prime minister’s jet to land, which meant that we did not have to change aircrafts. We left so that we would reach Dhaka by the afternoon. The scene, even from the air was totally overwhelming. There was an ocean of human heads was visible from the air. As we landed, Bangabandhu was taken on a truck; Syed Nazrul Islam, Tajuddin Ahmad, and other party and student leaders. I was privileged to travel to the city on the same truck. I noticed our friends Amirul Islam and Tulu (Ziaul Haq) had also come to receive us, so that Hameeda and the children could go home with them.
The truck went through the cheering crowds to the place we used to know as the Race Course where the 7 March 1971 mammoth meeting had been held. This was soon to be renamed Suhrawardy Uddyan. Bangabandhu made his historic homecoming speech there.
His unbridled joy came through in his speech, as did a deep sense of fulfillment of the mission to which he had dedicated his life. I
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remember several topics of importance that be dealt with in his speech. The first was a tribute to all those who had lost their lives and had made untold sacrifices for an independent Bangladesh; secondly, he expressed his gratitude to all the states and peoples who had supported the liberation struggle. He appealed to all states to recognise the sovereign state of Bangladesh. This was followed by the statement which was a clear response to Bhutto’s request to retain some link. Bangabandhu categorically stated that, after what had happened during the last nine months – the onslaught, the untold suffering inflicted on our people, and the devastation wrought upon our land – the only basis on which relations could be established with Pakistan was as between two sovereign states. He said he wished the people of Pakistan well, thus clearly distinguishing the common people from the oligarchs who were responsible for the crimes against humanity. He then said that enough blood had been spilt on the soil of Bangladesh and he wished to see an end to bloodshed. He, therefore, appealed to all the people to not seek revenge and take the law in their own hands against those who had committed inhuman crimes against the people. He said we should uphold the rule of law and ensure that those responsible be tried on the soil of Bangladesh, in accordance with the law. He also said with a sense of pride that Kobiguru Rabindranath’s frustration with the Bangalees, expressed in his poem ‘Bangamata’, (“7710 Gaisu teraca Is Godl, ca20 er PC, og ago I/O my devoted mother, you have reared seventy million children as Bangalees, but haven’t turned them into human beings) had been proven wrong by the struggle and sacrifice they had made during the last nine months.
Personally, I was deeply touched that, in this speech which will be part of our history, he devoted a sentence to me – mentioning the circumstances in which I had been in jail during the period. He had been honoured as Bangabandhu in this very place in 1969. On 10 January 1972, the assembled multitudes, at the very same place, welcomed him with respect and affection as ‘the Father of the Nation’.
Chapter 8
Challenge of State Building: The First Steps
Bangladesh had been ravaged by war. Its social structure was rudely shaken, but not destroyed. The young activists, who had formed the hard core of the freedom fighters, emerged as the most powerful pressure group. They were a force to be reckoned with because of their contribution to the liberation struggle and also because many of them still bore arms. The communal forces, and those of t left who had opposed the liberation struggle were, for the moment, exposed and isolated. The owners of industry and the businessmen, many of them non-Bangalis, were no longer there. Large segments of the urban population had still to recover and regain confidence after the trauma suffered during the nine months of terror. Different sections of the people held divergent expectations from independence. Each had thought of the greater opportunities independence would bring; few had anticipated the terrible cost of an armed struggle and the transformation of the social environment which it would bring about.
In attempting to establish a central locus of authority, we had to reckon with the large number of small armed groups and their group commanders in different sectors who had different political orientations. The government, which had led the liberation war, based its authority on the overwhelming popular support its members had won in the 1970 elections, and the fact that its members were the principal associates of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, to whom most groups manifested their unquestioned allegiance. Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was proclaimed president of the government in exile, even though he was in military custody, while his senior colleagues, Syed Nazrul Islam was designated acting president, and Tajuddin Ahmad, prime minister.
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The situation that existed on 10 January 1972, when Bangabandhu returned to assume responsibility as the head of government, presented a range of daunting problems.
The first task was to consolidate a centre of authority which would be able to secure the allegiance of all the significant groups within the country. Not only would this be an exercise of moral authority, but also would demonstrate that the government was effectively in charge of the country. It meant putting together a political and administrative machinery in the country. It meant arranging for the withdrawal of the Indian forces, who were in Bangladesh as part of the allied forces under joint Indo-Bangladesh command. It meant developing the capability to safeguard our national security.
The difficulty of this initial task should not be underestimated, despite the apparent smoothness with which it appeared to have been carried out. An early assessment of the problems of nation building in Bangladesh, found:
Like many other new states Bangladesh at its birth faced the formidable problem of simultaneously building an input and an output sector – both a state apparatus and a political community. The two major instruments of a state apparatus that is the civil bureaucracy and military were in disarray at the time of the new state’s birth… In the post-liberation period, not only did Bangladesh find itself deprived of the services of its experienced civil and military bureaucracy, but also schism and factionalism affected the morale and discipline of the civil service and the military left in Bangladesh….1
The state apparatus that was inherited was that of a weak provincial government, which had been further debilitated during the period of the liberation war when effective power had been assumed by the Pakistani military administration. It was against this background that basic choices had to be made from among alternative courses. These choices related to objectives and priorities, to the instruments through which those objectives were to be secured, and, most importantly, the choice of an overall political framework. The responsibility for taking decisions that reflected the people’s choices fell on their elected representatives under the leadership of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, in whom the people reposed their trust. It was felt, at that time, that we had an almost total freedom of choice, and it is this fact that leads some critics – with the wisdom of hindsight – to take the view that we should have made different and better choices. While it may still be too early (if that is
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1 Rounaq Jahan, op.cit., 1973, pp. 199-200.
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ever possible) to pronounce on the correctness’, or otherwise of such choices, an understanding of the factors and forces which influenced those choices will provide some insight into the course of subsequent political developments.
The latent tensions in the nationalist movement, which had l to manifest themselves during the nine months of the liberation war, were reflected in the contending factions and pressure groups that emerged at the end of the liberation war. Thus, there were younger militants ranged against the older moderates, and there were radical students and workers who felt that a social revolution could be launched immediately, pitted against those who counselled restraint. Among the latter were property owners who wanted to preserve as much of their interests as they could. But there were others, committed to basic social and economic transformation, who also urged caution as they felt that in the absence of effective instruments such as political cadres and a well-motivated party organisation, to embark on a full-scale social revolution, in particular in the countryside, was a prescription for anarchy and chaos.
I recall how, immediately after the resounding electoral victory of 1970, while I continued to work on the draft Constitution under Tajuddin Bhai’s guidance, he kept reiterating that constitutional goals and promises could only be realised if the party was totally reorganised and motivated young members were recruited and infused with the idealism of a vibrant and healthy politics to build the Bangladesh that we had dreamed of and for which the martyrs had paid with their lives.
Some among the leaders had urged that the freedom fighters, instead of being disbanded, should form the nucleus of “the party of the revolution’. This party could then lead a ‘class struggle’ within the framework of a one-party system, and take society forward towards the goal of social revolution. Variants of this concept were adopted by a section of the students, which led to the emergence of a new party, Jatiya Samajtantrik Dal (JSD), which presented itself as the vanguard of the ‘class struggle’. This was in contrast to the politics which had succeeded in developing a broad platform of unity prior to independence, based on the shared experience of disparity and discrimination, and had accommodated contending groups within that platform. It was envisaged that the Awami League could continue to be a coalition of contending factions, representing different
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tendencies, ranging from militant social revolutionaries on the left to conservative ‘status-quoists’ on the right.
But the critical choice which faced the new nation was whether the national unity, which had been forged during the struggle for independence, could be sustained and strengthened through a ‘politics of consensus’, based on a commitment to shared goals and values, or be replaced by ‘the politics of patronage’. In the preindependence period, such motives had been promoted by authoritarian regimes, by building a support base through the distribution of privileges, exploiting greed and opportunism, and cynically describing it as ‘basic democracy’, or ‘democracy suited to the genius of the people they held in contempt. It was the people’s movements of the sixties that had successfully challenged the politics of patronage of the authoritarian regimes by promoting unity around shared goals and values (which formed the core of the Six Points and Eleven Points Programmes). It was in this political background that the making of the Constitution was undertaken, as a means of spelling out the values and goals around which a consensus could be built and a strategy for achieving economic and social change, through a democratic process, could be forged.
The tasks, in the initial years, were as formidable as the instruments available to deal with them were weak. While the political organisation was affected by the problems discussed above, the deficiencies in the state apparatus were manifold.
The available machinery to deal with the priority task of enforcing law and order was manifestly weak. The total strength of the regular forces, which formed the nucleus of the Bangladesh defence services (around 25,000) was numerically much smaller than that of the diverse armed groups that made up the Mukti Bahini, not to mention other groups which had emerged in post-independence Bangladesh. The police force had always been small and had been supported by a para-military force, the Bangladesh (previously East Pakistan) Rifles (BDR). Effective enforcement of law and order, therefore, required the strengthening of the disciplined forces as well as the surrender of arms by armed groups, or alternatively, their absorption within the army, the police, or the BDR.
An appeal was made on 17 January calling upon freedom fighters who still bore arms (other than those who formed the regular units, recognised to be part of the national armed forces of the state), to
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surrender their arms. Sheikh Mujib put all his charisma behind this call. On 24 January, he went to Tangail to preside over the ceremony of the surrender of arms by Kader Siddiqui (nicknamed Tiger) and his troops, one of the largest and most effective components of the Mukti Bahini. In the next few days, other groups of the Mukti Bahini surrendered their arms. On 30 January, as a demonstration of support for Sheikh Mujib, some 50,000 arms were surrendered by the Mujib Bahini, a segment of freedom fighters, that had been organised by some of the student leaders under that name to distinguish themselves from those under the general umbrella of the Mukti Bahini. This reflected the seeds of factional competition for predominance in the power structure in post-liberation Bangladesh. It was to give rise to factionalism and to be a factor in eroding national unity, which was to cost the nation dearly. Since the surrender of arms was not total, and arms acquired by groups of different political persuasions remained with them, this presented a
continuing problem for the administration which needed to establish * its effectiveness.
While Sheikh Mujib made a call for the surrender of arms, parallel efforts were made to strengthen the different disciplinary forces. Steps were taken to arrange for equipment and supplies for the army and the police. Initially, it was decided to absorb several thousand young freedom fighters into the BDR to add to its strength. It is not widely known that this was prevented by the determined refusal of the BDR to allow those who they regarded as young boys to be inducted into the BDR, to the extent of threatening to resist such induction by force. To normalise the situation, it required Sheikh Mujib, along with other leaders, to go to the BDR Headquarters, listen to their appeal, and substantially accept their appeals. This led to the decision form a separate force called the Rakkhi Bahini. This force was to become a target of the opposition, since it was deployed in internal security operations against armed opposition groups. The Rakkhi Bahini also provoked resentment among the regular armed forces, who felt that their role would be diminished by the administration, which would favour the new force.
Part of the ugly legacy of any armed struggle for independence is the problem of collaborators, persons who aid and collude with the enemy. For a historical perspective, one has only to recall that some
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two million of those who had collaborated with the British in the American War of Independence had to migrate to Canada. A massacre of the collaborators, as was witnessed in France and Belgium at the end of the Second World War, was feared but did not materialise. A few summary executions carried out by some Mukti Bahini groups, however, received worldwide publicity. The government took the firm position that collaborators would be dealt with in accordance with the due process of law. Inspite of the weakness of the prosecution machinery and the dilatory procedures of the ordinary courts, a number of trials resulted in convictions.
In November 1973, it was decided to grant a general amnesty to those being prosecuted, excepting persons who were punished or accused of rape, murders attempted murder, arson, or genocide. One of the considerations was that it would advance the interests of national reconciliation; also that long delays in trials were incompatible with the rule of law. Other factors which contributed to the decision were the flight of the leading collaborators, many of whom were not to return till the late seventies, and the prosecutions being impeded by considerations of ‘kinship’ or local loyalties and intercession on behalf of those who were liable to be prosecuted. In retrospect, the amnesty did not appear to have advanced the cause of national reconciliation since many of the amnestied collaborators, upon release, began to undermine the unity that had been attained, by rousing communal sentiments.
Problems were also faced in day-to-day administration due to the fact that the bureaucracy, particularly the higher echelons of the civil service together with the military, felt that the establishment of a system of political control would mean the loss of status and power for them. In the beginning there was a gradual acceptance of their reduced position, but they resented the loss of status and power. The inherited apparatus was weak, not only because of the provincial framework within which government had functioned up till then, but also because the bureaucracy itself was factionalised on the basis of those who had joined the liberation war and those who had not, as well as on the basis of those who had formerly been in a central or provincial service. Substantial sections of the bureaucracy, suffering from a sense of uncertainty about their own positions and alienation from the political government, adopted an attitude of immobilisme.
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A range of new tasks, in particular of economic planning and management of an enlarged public sector, had required the induction of professional economists, engineers and other technocrats into the government. The establishment of a powerful Planning Commission, manned by some of the most eminent economists in the country, became a particular source of conflict between the technocrats and bureaucrats. In the words of Dr. Nurul Islam, the deputy chairman, who had founded and led the Planning Commission:2
The appearance of the Planning Commission on the scene with its higher status, extensive functions and a larger organisation, appeared to the bureaucracy as an indication of the inroad which was being made into the old order and their hegemony. Firstly, it heralded the intrusion of ‘outsiders’. The leadership of the Planning Commission in Pakistan was vested in the civil service of Pakistan. The Bengali members of the Pakistan Civil Service had expectations that on the disappearance of the senior Pakistani bureaucrats they would step into their shoes, including the top positions in the Planning Commission. A Planning Commission dominated by academic economists at the top and run by professionals and specialists at the bottom was seen as a threat to the old order. Secondly, to make matters worse the Planning Commission had close links with the political leadership. The political leadership was initially anxious to establish its authority over the decision-making process. To some extent it attempted to reduce the supremacy of the elite services over positions of the highest responsibility.
The result of the tension between the bureaucrats and technocrats is reported thus:3
If the members of the Planning Commission adopted an unhelpful attitude on the question of creating administrative cohesiveness, the civil servants also never missed the opportunity of obstructing the work of the Planning Commission, sometimes out of spite and sometimes because their approaches differed.
A different range of problems was presented by the tasks of management in the public sector. Following nationalisation, the responsibility for managing a large public sector had devolved on the government as the bulk of the nationalised banks and major industries had been owned by non-Bangalis. Thus, the government was faced with the problem of finding efficient managers for industrial and commercial enterprises, and with creating conditions in which they could work effectively with workers and their unions.
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2 Nurul Islam, Development Planning in Bangladesh: A Study in Political Economy, Dhaka, 1979, pp. 53-54.
3 S. M. Ali, After the Dark Night: Problems of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, New Delhi, 1973, p. 119.
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Given a multi-party parliamentary democracy in which freedom of association was guaranteed, workers were organised into rival unions. Workers who had been active supporters of the ruling party tended to be resistant to discipline and felt, politically, more powerful than the professional managers who were charged with running the enterprises. It was recognised that the logic of the situation required some system of workers’ participation and sharing of responsibility for the efficient running of the industrial enterprises. Sections of the trade union leadership, many of them being non-ideological, were vulnerable to manipulation by other political groups and sectional interests, including the anti-public sector lobby. The constitutional guarantee for a multiplicity of rival unions facilitated such manipulation, since any move towards greater discipline or the curbing of demands by responsible and socially motivated union leaders could be sabotaged by a disruptive group that would seek to upstage the responsible trade union leadership by outbidding them with higher economic demands. A consensus on a system of workers’ participation among rival trade unions became impossible as some of those involved in the negotiations felt that they could secure their narrow political objectives by obstructing the attainment of a consensus.
The most fundamental of all tasks was that of structural change in the agrarian sector, which involved land reform, appropriation of agricultural surpluses for national development, and redistribution of power and resources in favour of the majority, made up of the landless and the rural poor. Before 1975, there was a perceptible shift in priorities, and a clear bias manifested by the government in favour of the rural sector. Policies – such as the reduction of the ceiling for land holding from 100 acres to 33 acres, and remission from payment of arrears of land revenue – were designed to benefit farmers. The criticism levelled against these policies was that they tended to favour the rich farmers who, it was argued, formed the rural base of the Awami League. While there may be some truth to this argument, the fact remained that the overwhelming popular support enjoyed by the party, substantially came from the small farmers. The reason that an extensive programme of structural change could not be undertaken was probably due to the fact that, in the initial years, the political leadership was greatly preoccupied with urgent day-to-day problems and in coping with the severe economic problems with which the country was then confronted. There was also the difficulty of embarking
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on such a programme without a thorough reorganisation of the party, a process which had started in 1972 but which had made slow progress.
Initially, the ruling party was beset with a problem that was created by factional tensions that impaired the kind of unified decision-making by the party’s top leadership that had been possible in the period prior to independence. The younger members and sections of the students, having played a vanguard role in the liberation movement and in the war, became even more powerful and assertive. Enjoying direct access to Bangabandhu, they became a distinct political force whose support provided strength to the party, as much as their opposition on specific issues weakened it.
The emerging strength of the students and youth led to two developments, both of which affected the Awami League. The first was the split in the Students’ League in 1972, which led to a substantial section of its radical members breaking away (later to form a new party,
y, the Jatiya Samajtantrik Dal (JSD, lit: National Socialist Party). The second was the formation of the Awami Jubo League (Youth League). The mass popularity of Bangabandhu and the electoral support gained by the Awami League were no doubt invaluable resources. However, given the political task with which the party was confronted, what was needed was the creation of a more tightly knit party, manned by motivated cadres. This task, though recognised as urgent, had proved difficult to accomplish.
On the economic front, the government faced grave difficulties. Bangladesh’s economy had been disrupted by war and dislocated by the exodus of non-local managers of industries. With no foreign exchange, since the entire foreign exchange reserves had been held by the erstwhile central government, and with no food stocks, the spectre of famine loomed large.
A UN mission of high-level consultants, led by Ambassador Erna Sailer of Austria, visited Dhaka in March-April 1972 and reported as follows:4
The events of the past year have imposed an almost total hiatus on the economy of Bangladesh. Economic activity has declined in all sectors, development has been reversed, there have been massive movements of population and overall the economic situation is worse than at any time in the past history of the country. The ten months confusion and disruption between March 1971 and January 1972 have brought additional physical,
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4 Report of the Mission of High Level United Nations Consultants to Bangladesh, March-April 1972, pp. 4,7, and 8.
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social and political difficulties, and have given to long-standing problems of chronic poverty, an additional dimension in immediate human suffering. Agriculture: The war had a deep impact on life in rural Bangladesh. Many deaths occurred, many people became refugees and many more were deprived of their productive assets. Villages were burned and cattle were slaughtered for food. The agricultural economy was affected in four principal ways. First there was an immediate and substantial decline in production of rice, jute and tea. Second, stocks of food, seed and inputs were run down. Third, production capacity including draft animal and implements, fishing boats and nets, irrigation pumps and handles were destroyed or damaged, particularly in border areas. Fourth, transport facilities and workshops and buildings of the Agricultural Administrative services were lost. Finally, a number of important land and water development projects were interrupted.
A World Bank Report published in August 1972, relying in part on the UN report, confirmed damage in other sectors in the following terms:5
Transport: The damage to physical infrastructure in an economy that is already narrowly based is most serious. The three principal capital assets in the transport system were the port of Chittagong and the Hardinge and King George VI bridges. The port has been partially restored, but the bridges will certainly be out of operation for at least a year. The equipment of much of the transport sector, although not of the railways, was seriously damaged and cannot be repaired from domestic resources. The complex interconnection imposed by the geography of Bangladesh between sea ports, inland waterways, railways and roads, which made up the traffic system in 1970 has been seriously disrupted. Thus timely food distribution and the effort to rehabilitate the economy are being jeopardised.
The damage in other sectors was also considerable. In the industrial sector, the value of assets destroyed or lost has been estimated at Tk. 203 million, with a foreign exchange component of Tk. 104 million. Non-measurable consequences of the war, caused by the loss of raw materials and spare parts, lack of maintenance, transfer of monetary assets, departure of a number of top managers and skilled workers, and market disruptions have been even more serious. Of telecommunications, the UN report stated:6
Long distance communications have been disrupted by major demolitions at focal points and by many cuts in the open wire line network. The facilities now available are, in many cases, unreliable, have inadequate capacity, and offer poor quality transmission.
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5 World Bank Report, Reconstructing the Economy of Bangladesh, Vol. I, August 1972, p. 8.
6 Ibid., p. 15.
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The UN mission identified the cost of reconstructing the major sectors of the economy for the period up to 30 June 1973, including food relief and industrial inputs, at around one billion dollars. This figure, of course, takes no account of the loss in income which occurred during 1971 and which continued to take place until the productive and distributive systems returned to normal. An overall estimate of the cost of the events of 1971, to the people of Bangladesh, might perhaps be nearer two billion dollars. Even spreading this over a three-year period, it would be equivalent to about 15 percent of GDP per annum
The assessment of the immediate post-liberation tasks on the economic front were expressed in a World Bank report as follows:7
This then was the situation with which Sheikh Mujib was faced on his return to Dacca. The task was a daunting one. First of all the refugees had to be returned and resettled, with appropriate relief provided to get them through until the first harvest. Secondly, law and order had to be re-established – the euphoria resulting from independence was threatening to veer into anarchy especially given the ample supply of weapons left over from the war period. Thirdly, adequate supplies of food had to be obtained and distributed through the damaged transport system, to avert the threat of famine. Fourthly, the political and administrative structure had to be reconstituted and new institutions created to fill the gap left by the former Central administration. Fifthly, the task of reconstruction had to be commenced and the economy restored to the ante bellum status quo as quickly as possible. Furthermore, these tasks had to be achieved with what was previously a provincial administration with a notably poor record in implementation.
Despite the severe handicaps under which the government had to undertake these tasks, the record of achievements was significant. Nearly ten million refugees had been resettled, and a famine averted. In the context of the charges of maldistribution, levelled by opponents of the government, it is worth quoting the judgment on food distribution expressed in a World Bank report:8
The refugees have returned and been resettled. By and large, relief food distribution appears to have been effectively handled. There have been reports of corruption but more observers feel that the food has gone where it has been needed most badly. Enough food has been brought in and distributed to prevent widespread famine, if not enough to bring prices down. (Italics added)
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7 Ibid., Vol. I, II, and p. 6 of Part II.
8 Ibid., p.9.
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A World Bank Report of November 1972 dealing with the revival of economic activity in major sectors reported progress as follows:
By June of this year considerable progress had been made in restoring transport operations. Most of the severed links had been restored, at least on a temporary basis, and Chittagong, the most important port, was handling traffic at volumes approaching pre-independence levels… Considering the circumstances, the pace of recovery of industrial production has been quite remarkable in the first months of 1972. This is particularly true of the jute sector. With 41,600 tons, the output of jute goods stood in June 1972 at 85 per cent of the average 1969/70 level or at about 75 per cent of capacity.
Despite such achievements, the difficulties on the economic front were aggravated by a number of factors, many of which were beyond control. The year 1972-73 witnessed the most serious drought in recent history, which had a devastating effect on the Aus and Aman harvests. The Aus harvested crop was 2.27 million tons compared to 2.8 million tons before liberation. The Aman crop, which accounted for some 60 per cent of the total annual rice output, was 18 per cent lower than the crop of 1969-70. The Boro crop suffered due to early rains. At the end of 1973, the global economy was struck by massive price increases, doubling or trebling the cost of Bangladesh’s essential imports. In July 1974, massive damage by a sudden flood of standing crops, estimated in the region of one million tons, was to create conditions which, aggravated by the external factors discussed earlier, were to lead to the agonies of famine in the autumn of 1974. The external factors which created this crisis and destabilised the state were to pave the way for the destructive assaults that were to follow in 1975.
Chapter 9
The Making of the Constitution
Elections, to elect 313 members to the National Assembly and 300 members to the Provincial Assembly, had been held in December 1970. The National Assembly was to function as a Constituent Assembly. This Constituent Assembly never met. The postponement, sine die, of its first meeting scheduled for 3 March had provoked the launch of the Non-Cooperation Movement. The deployment of military force to suppress it had led to the struggle for a sovereign, independent Bangladesh.
Many of the Bangali members elected to the National and Provincial Assemblies had sought refuge across the border from the onslaught of the Pakistan Army. Tajuddin Ahmad and Amirul Islam, who had managed to cross into India, started to contact the Awami League leadership who, by that time, had crossed over. One of the earliest acts of the Awami League leadership had been to draw up a formal proclamation of independence by the ‘elected representatives of the people’. The proclamation of 10 April 1971 announced the formation of the provisional government, and referred to the declaration of independence by Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman on 26 March 1971. The proclamation was published on 17 April 1971, on the same day as a provisional government was sworn in at Mujibnagar, a border town in the district of Kushtia. The proclamation had constituted the Bangali members elected to the National and Provincial Assemblies to be members of the Constituent Assembly of Bangladesh. Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was declared the president of Bangladesh, Syed Nazrul Islam the acting president, and Tajuddin Ahmad prime minister.
After the surrender of the Pakistan Army on 16 December 1971, and the return of Bangabandhu to Bangladesh on 10 January 1972, a
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constitutional framework for the new state demanded immediate attention.
During the course of our plane journey, as Bangabandhu and I returned from captivity in Pakistan, Bangabandhu spoke about the possible form of government to be established. He was returning as president of Bangladesh: yet the Awami League had always been committed to a parliamentary form of government in which the prime minister would be the chief executive. Since I had been dealing with constitutional matters in the party, he asked me for my views. My opinion was clearly for a parliamentary form of government, headed by a prime minister. This had been part of . It would also be in the long term interest of the country, to provide for executive authority to be exercised by a Cabinet, led by a prime minister, who would be accountable to Parliament. It would help to develop the concept of collective responsibility, as well as the capabilities of a team which would, in the future, be able to provide leadership.
Bangabandhu agreed, and then raised the question of whether he should remain as the president, and let Tajuddin continue as the prime minister. I suggested that, if he were to remain president, this would repeat the problem faced by Pakistan in 1947 when Jinnah, having held the post of Governor General, had, in effect, exercised the role of chief executive and diminished the office of prime minister. If a parliamentary form were to function effectively, then such a situation should be avoided.
On 11 January, I received a message to go to the house on Hare Road, which had become the prime minister’s residence, and was then occupied by Tajuddin Ahmad. I promptly responded to the summons and went with Amirul Islam, who had also been sent for. On arrival, we found that Justice Abu Sayeed Chowdhury had also been asked to come. A Cabinet meeting was in progress. Bangabandhu came out and told us that it had been decided that, pending the framing of a constitution, a parliamentary form of government should be introduced. He asked if a provisional constitutional instrument could be prepared immediately, to enable a Cabinet to be sworn in the following day? Could a draft be placed before the Cabinet within the next hour? This was to be the pace at which work moved in those early days. A draft was hurriedly prepared by us and submitted to the Cabinet. It was approved and sent to the Government Press for
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publication in the Gazette. Bangabandhu then turned around and told Justice Chowdhury that as he (Bangabandhu) was to become prime minister, there was need to appoint a president as the constitutional head of state, and so he requested Justice Chowdhury to assume that office. Although this came as a surprise to Justice Chowdhury, he accepted this call to the high office of presidency.
Who was to administer the oaths of office? Since the old provincial High Court had become defunct, a provisional High Court had to be constituted and a chief justice appointed. An instrument constituting the new court was drawn up, and the search for a chief justice began. The first choice was Kamruddin Ahmad, a senior lawyer, who had moved from active politics in the fifties to diplomatic assignments and had, through the sixties, been engaged in legal practice. His book The Socio-Political History of Bengal, first published in 1967, had made a considerable impact because it reflected the emerging nationalist struggle. It had been proscribed more than once by the Government of Pakistan. He had kept out of active politics, but was always available for wise counsel. I recall, in April 1970 when elections to a Constituent Assembly, on a one-person one-vote basis but subject to the Legal Framework Order, were announced, Bangabandhu and his senior colleagues had met at Kamruddin Ahmed’s house. I was present during the meeting at which, after extended discussions, the position of the Awami League was formulated. A draft statement had been prepared to the effect that an election to a Constituent Assembly on a one-person one-vote basis was welcomed, but that the Awami would not countenance any restraints upon what would be a sovereign body, made up of elected representatives of the people.
When the decision to appoint him as chief justice was transmitted to Kamruddin Ahmed on the telephone, he was overwhelmed with emotion. He had lived with tragedy in his personal life; his son, a brilliant university student, who had joined the liberation war as a freedom-fighter, had been killed in action. So, he replied that he could not see himself accepting any office given his physical and mental state. The choice ultimately fell on Justice Sayem, a judge of the High Court.
The president and chief justice were sworn in the next morning. As Bangabandhu was leaving the ceremony, he asked me to come to the swearing-in ceremony of the new Cabinet that afternoon. To my surprise, he announced that he was going to include me in the
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Cabinet. I was to be entrusted with the Law portfolio, with specific responsibility to steer the process of constitution-making, to which the highest priority had to be accorded.
All that existed in Dhaka were the remnants of a provincial law department. A Law Ministry had to be formed without delay. I was able to persuade a sitting judge, Dr. Munim, to accept the post of Law secretary. I had known him since our student days in London, where he did his doctorate in constitutional law; he had shared, with me, the teaching of constitutional law at the University of Dhaka through the sixties. He accepted on the specific understanding that he would return to the bench as soon as the work of constitution-making was completed.
The text of the Constitution was to be in Bangla. This was to present a challenge, because this would be the first constitution to be drafted in Bangla. Dr. Anisuzzaman of the Bangla Department of the University of Chittagong, who had also been a member of the Planning Cell in Mujibnagar, was persuaded to join the small team that was formed to start preparatory work on the Constitution. The Constituent Assembly of Bangladesh Order was promulgated, and steps were taken to convene the first meeting of the Assembly on 10 April 1972, exactly a year after the elected representatives of the people had, by a revolutionary act, constituted themselves into a Constituent Assembly.
The first meeting of the Constituent Assembly was charged with deep emotion. It was a moment of communion with the souls of the martyrs who had paid with their lives to vindicate the rights of the people to make a constitution for a sovereign and independent People’s Republic of Bangladesh. The wounds of the liberation struggle were still fresh, and the agonies suffered by the entire nation were keenly felt. Nearly a dozen elected members were among the many martyrs, to whom the nation was beholden. Speaking at the inaugural session, Bangabandhu expressed these feelings:
Our people have paid with their blood for our independence and for our right to meet today as the sovereign Constituent Assembly for Bangladesh. It is for us to ensure that the sacrifices of our martyrs will not have been in vain.
A Constitution Drafting Committee was formed by the Assembly, and I was entrusted to chair it. The 34 member committee included
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senior party leaders, Syed Nazrul Islam, Tajuddin Ahmad, Mansur Ali, Kamaruzzaman, and Khandaker Mushtaque Ahmed.1 A member of the opposition, Suranjit Sengupta, was also included in the committee. Most of the senior lawyers who were members of the Assembly served on this committee. Razia Banu was included as a woman member. The committee was directed to produce a draft Constitution as early as possible. Guidance on general principles provided by the resolution of the Assembly, declared that the high ideals of nationalism, socialism, democracy, and secularism, which had inspired the brave martyrs to lay down their lives in the national liberation struggle, would be the fundamental principles of the Constitution. This was to be the starting point of the committee’s work. These principles had been articulated through popular historic movements in the period between 1947 and 1971.
A constitution has been described as the autobiography of a nation which reflects its historical experience. To adopt the language of Justice Albie Sachs, one of the architects of the Constitution of the new South Africa, ‘If a constitution is the autobiography of a nation, then we are the privileged generation that will do the writing. It is something that involves us all … no one gives us rights, we gain them in struggle. They exist in our hearts before they exist in paper. Yet the intellectual struggle is one of the most important areas of the battle for rights. It is through concepts that we link our dreams to the acts of daily life’2 It was through a historic liberation struggle that we won our right to write a Constitution.
A new constitutional order was expected to empower people. With the end of British colonial rule in 1947, the people of the eastern wing, who constituted the majority in erstwhile Pakistan, expected to become masters of their own destiny within a democratic state.
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1 Other members of the Constitution Drafting Committee were: M. Abdur Rahim, Abdur Rouf, Md. Lutfar Rahman, Abdul Momin Talukdar, Prof. Abu Sayed, Mohammad Baitullah, Amirul Islam, Badal Rashid, Khondakar Abdul Hafeez, Mohammed Nurul Islam Monzoor, Shaukat Ali Khan, Md. Humayun Khalid, Asaduzzaman Khan, A. K. Musharaf Hossain Akhond, Abdul Momin, Shamsuddin Mollah, Sh. Abdur Rahman, Faqueer Shahabuddin Ahmed, Abdul Montaquim Chowdhury, Prof. Khorshed Alam, Serajul Haq, Dewan Abul Abbas, Hafiz Habibur Rahman, Md. Abdur Rashid, Suranjit Sengupta, Nurul Islam Chowdhury, Mohammad Khaled, Razia Banu, Dr. Kshitish Chandra Mondal.
2 A. Sachs, Protecting Human Rights in a New South Africa, Cape Town, Oxford University Press, 1990, p. vi.
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Political power would be used to achieve economic emancipation. The overwhelming majority of the population comprised of peasants and working people who, during the colonial period, had suffered economic deprivation as projas under an exploitative zamindari system introduced by the Permanent Settlement. Landlessness, indebtedness, and pervasive poverty had characterised the lives of ordinary men and women.
The dreams which were woven into the constitutional provisions, were those of a democratic political order in which power would truly belong to the people, to be exercised through a sovereign parliament composed of representatives elected on the basis of universal adult franchise. This parliament would bring about social and economic transformation. It was clearly expected that the representatives of the people would be committed to end exploitation through the implementation of programmes for fundamental economic and social change.
Nationalism represented an assertion by the people of their identity, which evolved during the course of its historical struggle into the right to their language, culture, traditions and history. In declaring independence, the people of Bangladesh had emphasised that they were exercising their right to self-determination to create a nation state. In Pakistan, the ruling elite had denied that there could be such a nationalism based on a distinct language and cultural heritage. Such insensitivity had been accentuated when Bangalis were confronted with the question: Are you a Bangali or a Muslim? Now that Bangladesh had been established as a nation state, and was recognised as such by the world, their national identity could no longer be questioned. This sense of fulfillment, however, led to smaller ethnic communities, in particular those living in the Chittagong Hill Tracts, feeling excluded. Manabendra Narayan Larma, an elected member, expressed these concerns in Parliament. Bangabandhu’s response was that they would enjoy equality in all respects, and that special provisions would be made through affirmative action to ensure such equality. Specific constitutional provisions were included in Articles 28 and 29. His assurance, that members of all ethnic communities would enjoy equal rights, did not specifically address the question of ethnic identity and language.
Democracy expressed the long-suppressed desire of the people to govern themselves, to guide their own destiny. They looked ahead to
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a new dawn after the long night of terror and oppression that they had suffered under colonial rule and the military dictatorships that had been imposed on them. The struggle to establish democracy still continues. Subsequent events were to undermine democracy and subject the people, once again, to the oppression of a military dictatorship.
Secularism stands for the rejection of communalism in all its forms, and of the abuse of religion for political purposes. The cynical exploitation of religion for bolstering the interests of the ruling elite was part of our experience. We had seen the worst crimes committed in the name of Islam. Pakistan had called itself an Islamic state but the adoption of that label had not kept it from functioning as an unjust and authoritarian state which, in the end, resorted to murder and rape and ultimately destroyed itself. The principle of secularism that was embodied in the Constitution was very carefully worded so as to make clear that it did not stand for hostility to religion. The constitution-makers were fully conscious that the majority of the Bangali people were practising Muslims. The principle of secularism, as spelt out in the Constitution, was to maintain a separation between the state and religion and to create an environment in which all religious communities could coexist in harmony, free from discrimination and religious intolerance, specifically that:
The principle of secularism shall be realised by the elimination of(a) communalism in all its forms; (b) granting by the State of political status in favour of any religion; (c) abuse of religion for political purposes; (d) discrimination against, or persecution, of persons practising a particular religion.
When President Gaddafi of Libya asked Bangabandhu, at the Non-Aligned Summit in Algiers in 1973, why Bangladesh had embodied secularism in its Constitution, he replied:
Our secularism is not against religion. Our secularism stands for harmony among members of all religions. Indeed, in the opening of the Koran Allah is described as Rubbal-Alimin, the head of all creation and not of RubbalMuslimin , the head only of Muslims. This is the spirit which underlines our secularism.
The creation of an environment in which members of all religious communities would live in harmony was not only seen as a rejection
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of the hypocrisy and bigotry of the past twenty-four years, but as a positive step in the struggle against communalism which had inflicted untold human suffering in the countries of South Asia and had to be fought relentlessly. Separation of the state from religion implied that an individual’s private faith would not be a matter for the State to judge.
Socialism reflected the commitment to create a just and egalitarian society; a society in which there would be no exploitation, and in which equality of opportunity would be assured. The vision of an independent Bangladesh, which had inspired the freedom-fighters, was of a society which would be free from exploitation. They were quite clear that, having freed themselves from the infamous ’22 families’ of Pakistan, they were not going to create ’22 families’ to take their place in Bangladesh.
Within seven months, the task of drafting the Constitution was completed. The Constituent Assembly adopted it on 4 November 1972, and it came into force on 16 December 1972, the first anniversary of the conclusion of the liberation war. The speed with which the task was accomplished received a great deal of appreciation, both at home and abroad, while the critics of the administration charged that
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sufficient exchange of ideas and criticism of the provisions contained in the Constitution had not taken place.
This was certainly not the case. Not only did the drafting committee represent the various tendencies within the Awami League, but it also included a member from the opposition. Extensive discussions had taken place in the committee, which worked for hours, sitting late into the night every day for several months. Different points of
ew within the committee, were reflected in the discussions on major issues such as the definition of the fundamental principles, and on the provision that a member, having been elected on a party ticket, would have to resign if s/he voted against her/his party. Often, after prolonged debate and discussion, the issues were resolved by consensus. A large number of amendments were proposed for the draft Constitution Bill, and over fifty of the amendments proposed by the members were incorporated.
In formulating the detailed provisions of the Constitution, there were two aspects that engaged the greatest amount of attention. The first related to the provisions which were to establish the framework of a parliamentary democracy. The second was to make adequate provision for the attainment, through the democratic process, of a social and economic system that would eliminate all forms of exploitation, ensure equality of opportunity and of the basic conditions for a decent life for our people.
In pursuance of the first aim, a bill of rights was embodied in the Constitution. The fundamental rights guaranteed by the Constitution included: equality before the law; equality of opportunity in public employment; right to life and personal liberty; freedom of movement; freedom of assembly; freedom of association; freedom of thought, conscience, and speech; freedom of profession, occupation, and business; freedom of religion, right to privacy of home, and correspondence; and the right to property.
Our efforts, in the Constitution Drafting Committee, had been directed towards, as faithfully as possible, preparing a draft Constitution by working out specific provisions on the basis of the four principles. Part I declared the existence of Bangladesh as a unitary, independent, sovereign republic known as the People’s Republic of Bangladesh. The territory of the Republic was defined as ‘those territories which immediately before the proclamation of
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independence on the 26th day of March, 1971 constituted East Pakistan’. Bangla was declared to be the state language of the Republic. Amar Sonar Bangla … was adopted as the national anthem. The most important of all the articles was Article 7, which affirmed that all powers in the Republic belong to the people, and that their exercise, on behalf of the people, would be effected only under, and by, the authority of the Constitution.
Part II declared nationalism, socialism, democracy and secularism to be the fundamental principles of state policy, and further enunciated a number of principles derived from these four principles. The fundamental principles of state policy sought to spell out the vision of an exploitation-free society that we believed represented the aspirations of the people of Bangladesh. It provided that national unity and solidarity of the people of Bangladesh were the bases on which the Republic was established. It further provided that a socialist economic society would be established with a view to ensuring the attainment of a just and egalitarian society, free from the exploitation of man by man.
The Republic would be a democracy in which fundamental human rights, freedom, and the dignity and worth of the human person would be guaranteed, and in which effective participation of the people through their elected representatives would be ensured at all levels. The principle of secularism reflected the collective determination of the people of Bangladesh to exorcise from the soil of Bangladesh those dark forces of communalism and religious bigotry that had wrought such horrors in our land. This, however, in no way precluded the full and free practice of religion by any person of his/her faith. The principles set out in that part defined the principal features of an exploitation-free economy. The principles of ownership were clearly set out, namely that the people would own and control the instruments and means of production, so that the key sectors of the economy would be in public ownership. Subject to this, there would be co-operative and private ownership within such limits as may be prescribed by the law. The fundamental responsibility of the State – to emancipate the toil masses, peasants, workers, and disadvantaged sections of people from all forms of exploitation – was recognised; it was to be attained through a planned economic growth and a constant increase of productive forces and steady improvement
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in the material and cultural standard of living of the people, with a view to securing for its citizens: a) the provision of the basic necessities of life, including food, clothing, shelter, education, and medical care; b) the right to work, that is the right to guaranteed employment at a reasonable wage having regard to the quantity and quality of work; c) the right to reasonable rest, recreation, and leisure; and d) the right to social security, that is to say to public assistance in cases of undeserved want arising from unemployment, illness, or disablement, or suffered by widows or orphans or in old age, or in other such cases.
Other basic principles, and social and economic objectives, were set out. These included adoption of effective measures to remove disparity in standards of living between the urban and rural areas; the establishment of a uniform, mass-oriented, universal system of education based on the needs of society; the raising of levels of nutrition and the improvement of public health. Further, it was provided that the State should endeavour to ensure equality of opportunity to all citizens and, in particular, to ensure the equitable distribution of opportunities in order to obtain a uniform level of economic development through the Republic. The State was also committed to adopting effective measures to reduce social and economic inequality. Work was recognised as a right, a duty, and a matter of honour for every citizen. The duty of every citizen – to observe the Constitution and the laws, to maintain discipline, to perform public duties and to protect public property – and of every public servant – to strive at all times to serve the people – were affirmed as was the principle of the separation of the judiciary from the executive organs of the state. The basis of Bangladesh’s relations with other states was set out, namely, that it would base its international relations on the principles of respect for national sovereignty and equality, non-interference in the internal affairs of other countries, peaceful settlement of international disputes, and respect for international law and the principles enunciated in the United Nations Charter. A commitment was given to support oppressed people throughout the world who were waging a just struggle against imperialism, colonialism, or racialism.
These principles were affirmed to be fundamental to the governance of Bangladesh. It was expressly declared that these principles would
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be applied in the making of laws, that they would be a guide to the interpretation of the Constitution and the other laws of Bangladesh, and that they would form the basis of the work of the State and of its citizens. These principles were the ones on the basis of which the fundamental social and economic transformation of the country was envisaged. The attainment of such goals involved the making of necessary laws and the enforcement of appropriate laws and policies by the executive authority. This would involve planning, adequate allocation of resources, and a total effort on the part of all people, both in government and outside.
A number of basic conventions related to the working of a parliamentary democracy, which are often implied in other Constitutions, were spelt out in our Constitution. The brief periods when parliamentary government had been allowed to function in Pakistan had been marked by bitter experiences of excessive interference by those who held the office of ‘constitutional head’, either as president or as Governor General. Indeed, such interference and manipulation had undermined parliamentary democracy and provided a pretext for the military to usurp power.
Therefore, a conscious departure was made from those constitutions which formally vested executive authority in the president, while providing that there would be a Council of Ministers headed by the prime minister, who collectively responsible to Parliament to aid and advise the president. The question which engaged the attention of the Constitution Drafting Committee was whether the well known conventions of Cabinet government, as practiced in Britain, should be included in the form of written provisions or whether these should remain unwritten. It was finally decided to write the basic conventions of Cabinet government into the Constitution.
The office of the president was defined in Article 48 of the Constitution in the following terms:
(2) The President shall, as Head of State take precedence over all other persons in the State, and shall exercise the powers and perform the duties conferred and imposed on him by this Constitution and by any other law.
(3) In the exercise of all his functions, save only that of appointing the Prime Minister pursuant to clause (3) of Article 56, the President shall act in accordance with the advice on the Prime Minister: Provided that the question whether any, and if so what, advice has been tendered by the Prime Minister to the President shall not be enquired into in any court.
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Article 55(2) provided that ‘the executive power of the Republic shall be exercised by or on the authority of the prime minister’ in accordance with the Constitution, that is, as the head of a Cabinet, collectively responsible to Parliament. Article 56(3) provided that the president would appoint as prime minister, the Member of Parliament who appeared to command the support of the majority of the Members of Parliament.
Article 57(2) provided that if the prime minister ceased to retain the support of a majority of the Members of Parliament, he would either resign his office or advise the president to dissolve Parliament, and if he so advised, the president shall dissolve Parliament accordingly. Having regard for the long interruption in the functioning of parliamentary democracy, it was considered prudent to expressly set out the basic conventions of Cabinet government in the Constitution.
A further consideration which contributed to this decision was the juristic controversy about the precise content of some of the conventions, and the existence of diverse opinions regarding to the application of these conventions to what might be regarded as ‘penumbral’ cases. Thus, to the question whether the president was bound to accept the advice of a prime minister who had been defeated on the floor of the House, a clear answer was provided by Article 57(2) of the Constitution. This was intended to eliminate uncertainty.
A review of British and Commonwealth constitutional practices had revealed that doubt had been expressed as to whether the constitutional head was in every case bound to accept the prime minister’s advice on dissolution. Article 57(2) had adopted the better view that it was obligatory for the constitutional head to grant dissolution since the idea underlying this convention was that, in modern times, a ministry was the direct result of general elections and that its defeat in the House automatically entitled it to appeal, once again, to the people.
The vital role of political parties in the working of parliamentary democracy was recognised while framing the Constitution. Universal adult franchise and the complexity of the problems facing modern government made effective and disciplined parties, seeking popular support on the basis of a distinct programme, essential to the working of a parliamentary democracy. It was, therefore, felt
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necessary that a provision should be included to deter the practice of ‘floor crossing’, which militated against the functioning of a healthy parliamentary democracy. This practice had been a source of concern in other newly independent countries; indeed, Kenya had amended its Constitution to provide that a member who resigned from the party from which he had been elected should vacate his seat. Article 70 of the Bangladesh Constitution provided:
A person elected as a member of Parliament at an election at which he was nominated as a candidate by a political party shall vacate his seat if he: (a) resigns from the party; or (b) votes in Parliament against that party; but shall not thereby be disqualified for subsequent election as a member of Parliament.
No provision of the Constitution evoked more lively discussion, both in the Committee and in the Assembly, than Article 70. The original form in which it was included in the Constitution Bill had also contemplated that expulsion from a party, on whose ticket a member was elected, would render the seat of that member vacant. This part of the provision was widely regarded as being far too drastic. Many members protested that this condition would seriously restrict their freedom of speech and independent judgment, and thus reduce their effectiveness in Parliament. The strongest argument in favour of this article, was based on the experiences following the 1954 elections to the Provincial Assembly in East Bengal. Regrettable defections resulted in changes in the government and created instability. Bangabandhu recalled his experience of how he had to be vigilant to prevent his party members from defection induced by the promise of ministerial posts. He said that while he was guarding the front door of the MPs hostel, defectors would slip out of the back door. Ultimately, the form in which Article 70 was incorporated limited the grounds for the vacation of a seat to only resignation or to voting against the party.
Judicial review, both of legislation and administrative action, was accorded due importance in the Bangladesh Constitution. The question had arisen whether it would be preferable to vest this jurisdiction by referring to specific prerogative writs, such as mandamus, certiorari, quo warranto, and habeas corpus, as had been done in Article 226 of the Indian Constitution, or whether it would be better to spell out the scope and substance of the remedy available under this Article. The most convincing reason for adopting the latter
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course was that, thereby, the jurisdiction was amplified. Thus, not only judicial or quasi-judicial, but also purely administrative, acts would be subject to judicial review. Under this formulation, the Court is vested with the power to declare, as being without legal effect, any action of a public functionary or local authority that is found to have been taken without lawful authority.
The Supreme Court is expressly vested with the power to enforce fundamental rights. Article 44 expressly provided:
The right to move the Supreme Court, in accordance with Clause (1) of Article 102, for the enforcement of the rights conferred by this Part, is guaranteed.
The Constitution laid emphasis on the need to establish a participatory democracy; in the language of Article 11, it called for ‘effective participation by the people through their elected representatives in administration at all levels’. It was well recognised that any significant social and economic transformation could only be effected through the active participation of people in the making and implementation of plans for social and economic development. This prompted the inclusion of a special chapter, the third chapter of Part IV on ‘Local Government’. This chapter contained two clear provisions, Articles 59 and 60, which defined the position of local government in the scheme of the Constitution, in the following terms:
59(1) Local government in every administrative unit of the Republic shall be entrusted to bodies, composed of persons elected in accordance with law.
(2) Everybody such as is referred to in clause (1) shall, subject to this Constitution and any other law, perform within the appropriate administrative unit such functions as shall be prescribed by Act of Parliament, which may include functions relating to: (a) administration and the work of public offices; (b) the maintenance of public order; (c) the preparation and implementation of plans relating to public; services and economic development.
To give full effect to the provisions of Article 59, Article 60 provided that Parliament shall, by law, confer powers on the local government bodies referred to in that Article, including power to impose taxes for local purposes, to prepare their budgets, and to maintain funds.
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It is noteworthy that these provisions aimed to introduce a decentralised administration, with elected members of local councils entrusted with executive powers and with the power of taxation, to reduce dependence on a centralised and bureaucratically dominated administrative structure. It had been the mark of colonial governments to control its subjects through a top-down and hierarchical administrative system, with bureaucrats carrying out directives.
In a society where urgent economic and social problems cried out for solutions, special provisions were made to enable economic and social reforms, without obstacles being created by sections of the legislature manipulated by vested interests.
The committee was conscious that the constitutional protection of the right to property, and the freedom of trade and business, had created difficulties in the path of implementing social welfare measures through legislation. The fate that the New Deal legislation in the United States had suffered in the thirties, when it was first subjected to judicial review, was a warning to all who aimed at social and economic amelioration of the conditions of the people through legislation. In any system where the validity of legislation stood to be tested by reference to a fundamental law, there would be the continuing risk of such legislation being held to be void on the grounds of inconsistency with some provisions of the fundamental law. The fate of land reforms legislation and nationalisation laws in other systems and, indeed, the history of the different amendments to the Constitution of India, persuaded the committee to take special care in formulating the provisions relating to fundamental rights, in particularly the right to property and to freedom of trade and business, so that legislative efforts aimed at altering property relations and re-ordering the economic structure should not be obstructed by protracted litigation. This is why the original text provided that the right to property and the freedom to carry on trade or business would be enjoyed subject to any restriction that may be imposed by law. It also provided that property may be acquired with or without compensation, and, further, that the question of adequacy of compensation would not be justiciable.
Pre-constitutional legislation through which nationalisation and other economic measures were effected had been specially protected
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by their inclusion in the First Schedule to the Constitution. The wide protection extended to these laws is evident from the terms of Article 47(2) which provided as follows:
47(2) Notwithstanding anything contained in this Constitution the laws specified in the First Schedule (including any amendment of any such law) shall continue to have full force and effect, and no provision of any such law, or anything done or omitted to be done under the authority of such law, shall be deemed void or unlawful on the ground of inconsistency with, or repugnance to, any provision of this Constitution: Provided that nothing in this article shall prevent the modification or repeal of any such law or provision by Act of Parliament, but no Bill for such an Act, if it contains provision for or has the effect of divesting the State of any property, or of enhancing any compensation payable by the State, shall be presented to the President for assent unless it is passed by the votes of not less than two-thirds of the total number of members of Parliament.
With regard to further legislation relating to economic and social measures, Article 47(1) provided special protection in the following terms:
47(1) No law providing for any of the following matter shall be deemed to be void on the ground that it is inconsistent with, or takes away or abridges, any of the rights guaranteed by this Part:
(a) the compulsory acquisition, nationalisation or requisition of any property, or the control or management thereof whether temporary or permanent; (b) the compulsory amalgamation of bodies carrying on commercial or other undertakings; (c) the extinction, modification, restriction or regulation of rights of directors, managers, agents and officers of any such bodies, or of the voting rights of persons owing shares or stock (in whatever form) therein; (d) the extinction, modification, restriction or regulation of rights to search for or win minerals or mineral oil; (e) the carrying on by the government or by a corporation owned, controlled or managed by the government, of any trade, business, industry or service to the exclusion, complete or partial, of other persons; or (f) the extinction, modification, restriction or regulation of any right to property, any right in respect of a profession, occupation, trade or business or the rights of employers or employees in any statutory public authority or in any commercial or industrial undertaking;
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(g) if Parliament in such law (including, in the case of existing law, by amendment) expressly declares that such provision is made to give effect to any of the fundamental principles of state policy set out in Part II of this Constitution.
Keeping in view the past experience of delays and difficulties in implementing economic measures and in administering nationalised and statutory enterprises on account of litigation, two further provisions were included in the Constitution. The first provided for the establishment of administrative tribunals to deal with matters relating to, or arising out of, ‘the acquisition, administration, management, and disposal of any property vested in or managed by the government by or under any law, including the operation and management of, and service in, any nationalised enterprise or statutory public authority’ (Article 117). It was provided by Article 117(2) that where any administrative tribunal is established under that article, no court would entertain any proceedings or make any order in respect of any matter falling within the jurisdiction of such tribunal.
Part VI provided for an independent judiciary. A Supreme Court was to be established, consisting of an Appellate Division, which would be the final appellate forum; a High Court Division would be a court of unlimited original jurisdiction and would be invested with powers which were popularly referred to as the writ jurisdiction.
We thought it necessary to follow the example that had found favour in unitary states and provide for an integrated Supreme Court consisting of the High Court Division and the Appellate Division. A Supreme Court, which was separate and apart from the High Court, would imply that the Supreme Court was the highest court and that the High Court, being a court below it, would then lose its present character. Ultimately it would not be possible to have just one High Court, but to fragment it into four or more, thus totally destroying the character of having a single court of unlimited original jurisdiction invested with writ jurisdiction and the power to enforce fundamental rights. The long-aspired goal of separation of the judiciary from the executive was expressly provided for. All judicial officers, including magistrates exercising judicial functions, would be subject to the control of the High Court in respect of postings, promotions, leaves and discipline. The High Court was also given a controlling role in their appointment
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Another innovation was a provision for specialised administrative tribunals for certain matters, which would provide genuine and rapid redress and at the same time not impose a burden on the Writ Jurisdiction. Such tribunals were provided for in the case of service matters, in the case of property vested in the government under any law, including nationalised enterprises and the laws relating to property, trade and business, and certain other specific laws which were kept out of the purview of the Writ Jurisdiction.
The excessive delays caused by ex parte interim orders issued in writ proceedings prompted the inclusion of a provision to the effect that when in such proceedings an interim order was sought, the Court should consider whether such an interim order was likely to have the effect of prejudicing or interfering with any measure designed to implement any development work; if there was such a likelihood, then no interim order should be made until reasonable notice had been given to the Attorney General and, after hearing him, it was determined that the interim order would not have such effect.
In making these special provisions, a conscious attempt was made to eliminate possible sources of obstruction to measures intended to bring about social and economic restructuring for the benefit of the
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people. These provisions alone were not adequate to meet the problems inherent in the effort to restructure the economic order through a democratic process.
The radical economic and social transformation needed to establish a just and egalitarian society, free from exploitation, required fundamental changes to be brought about in attitudes and values, and in the institutional instruments through which plans and policies were to be made and implemented. Both the state apparatus and that of the party needed thorough reorganisation. The new order could only be built through relentless work and large increases in production in the fields and the factories. The achievement of the production targets would require the highest degree of dedication and discipline, of motivation and sacrifice. The people of Bangladesh had demonstrated during the liberation struggle that they were capable of rising to these heights. But to sustain such endeavours, it was necessary that an environment be created in which sacrifices would be equitably shared and in which the privileged elite, old or new, were not seen to be indulging in wealth and luxury at the expense of the toiling masses who were the principal producers of the wealth. The colonial state apparatus which had been inherited was, and remains, both elite-dominated and inefficient. The process of making and implementing policy at the centre, as well as the system of district and local administration, were entirely inadequate and inefficient to carry out the task of bringing about major social and economic change. An elite-dominated bureaucracy by its very nature, is committed to the protection of a status quo that favours the elites. Red tape remained the most lasting contribution of the colonial administration. In fact, things had gone from bad to worse since the uncertainty introduced during successive Martial Law regimes had led to the arbitrary dismissal of civil servants. This had created conditions in which the majority of civil servants saw the best course to be that of taking no action, deferring action, or taking only decisions certain to please their superiors. In the second half of the sixties, some civil servants had emerged who, as confidants of the regime then in power, had become ‘powerful and acquired the habit of taking arbitrary decisions, for which they were not accountable to the people. Neither of these tendencies was to make the inherited bureaucracy a suitable instrument for making and implementing programmes for social and economic change.
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The military and police had, during the Pakistan days, served the ruling elite. But many of them had been drawn into the liberation struggle. This experience, it could only be hoped, had contributed to changing their colonial attitudes. Healthy politics under dedicated and conscientious leadership, such as had guided the independence struggle, could have brought about the reforms and restructuring of the political, economic and social systems. But the nation was deprived of that leadership in its early years, to be succeeded by forces who were neither representative nor were responsive or accountable to the people. The result was the degeneration of politics into an instrument for the pursuit of power and personal gain. The commitment to public interest and integrity in public life began to erode.
Where the state apparatus was inadequate and inefficient, the ruling political party organisation could be expected to draw upon well-motivated party members to meet such deficiencies, as well as to recruit suitable persons from other walks of life. The party itself, when it led the national liberation struggle, embraced a wide spectrum of elements that often represented conflicting values, interests and expectations. It had to reorganise itself. While the Awami League and its associated student and labour organisations had been able to contribute thousands of dedicated workers to the liberation struggle, many of whom had laid down their lives, there was a need for motivated and trained cadres to support the administration in carrying out the task of national reconstruction and in the radical and social economic programme to which it was publicly committed. The task of reorganising the party, and training its cadres, was identified in party resolutions adopted in the very first meetings of the party’s Council and Working Committee. The efforts aimed at building the required instruments and institutions came up against daunting problems and were to be overtaken by cataclysmic events.
Chapter 10
Foreign Policy: Pre-Independence Orientations
Significant divergences began to reveal themselves over the years in the orientation of the political leaders in the two parts of Pakistan towards the issues of foreign and defence policy. As the policies came to be moulded, more and more, by a non-Bangali ruling elite dominated by the military and bureaucratic elements, the political leadership in East Bengal saw such policies as serving narrow interests – of the military, the bureaucracy, and corporate business – at the cost of the interests of the Bangali people.
These divergences were manifest in a range of key issues. Bangalis did not feel that their security was enhanced by pursuing a policy of confrontation with India. The escalating military expenditure was devoted to building up conventional armed forces, overwhelmingly recruited from the Punjab, and located in the western wing. The security of Pakistan seemed to be equated with the security of West Pakistan. The exclusion of Bangalis from the armed forces was attributed to their being ‘non-martial’ and not measuring up to the required physical standards. The stationing of the greater bulk of the forces in the western wing was justified on the ground that the defence of the eastern wing was best secured by a strong force located in the west, which could strike a crippling blow on the most vital enemy targets. ‘A dagger pointed at the heart, was an oft-used metaphor. History has vindicated the scepticism of the Bangalis about both these claims.
It was the same military-bureaucratic elite that inducted Pakistan into military pacts in the fifties. There is some evidence to suggest that the dismissal of the political government in 1954 was precipitated by its reluctance to support the military pact, which was
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signed within weeks of its dismissal. There was strong opposition to these pacts in East Bengal.
Huseyn Shaheed Suhrawardy’s support for these pacts is sometimes explained as an attempt to neutralise external support for military rulers. According to him, this could not be done as long as the military rulers could impress upon their external patrons that they (the military) were the only friends the US had in Pakistan. Be that as it may, the opposition of the Bangali people to the military pacts was demonstrated by the statement made by all the members of the United Front elected to the Assembly in 1954, and the leaders of the Awami League outside the Assembly, calling upon the central covernment to withdraw from the pacts.1
In the face of Bangali opposition to these policies the ruling elite increasingly resorted to the device of the Indian bogey and of labelling their critics as pro-Indian or ‘agents of India’ – arrogating a monopoly of patriotism to themselves. This tendency had its roots in the ruling elite’s view that Bangalis were particularly vulnerable to manipulation by the Hindu intelligentsia, both within the country and from West Bengal. This view was manifested as early as 1948 when Jinnah characterised the demand for Bangla as inspired by those across the border who were not reconciled to the creation of Pakistan.2 A common distinction, earned by every leader who emerged as a spokesperson of the Bangali people, was that of being labelled ‘pro-Indian’ or of being involved in a ‘conspiracy with India’ against the sovereignty of the country.
Shaheed Suhrawardy, who had led the Muslim League to victory in the 1946 elections, found himself externed from Dhaka in 1948, and labelled an Indian agent.3 A. K. Fazlul Huq, who was one of the leaders of the victorious United Front in 1954, was dismissed from the office of chief minister within eight weeks. He was labelled a proIndian ‘traitor’, for a statement attributed to him that he did not believe that political division could, by itself, necessarily remove the bases of contact, friendship, and mutual dependence.4
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1 Kamruddin Ahmad, op.cit., pp. 132-33; also, T. Maniruzzaman, Radical Politics and the Emergence of Bangladesh, 1975, p. 9 refers to ‘official resolutions passed by the executive committee of EPAL (e.g. Awami League) condemning the Defence Assistance Agreement and the defence pacts’. (Text of original joint statement and resolutions may be found in contemporary press reports).
2 M. A. Jinnah speech broadcast over the radio.
3 Kamruddin Ahmad, op.cit., p. 108; M. A. H. Talukdar, op. cit., p. 35.
4 The Statesman, Calcutta, May 3, 1954.
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Maulana Bhashani was detained in 1958 – later he acquired a reputation for being ‘pro-Peking’ after the split in the National Awami Party in 1967 – as a pro-Indian element who threatened the security of Pakistan.5 The climax of this tendency came in 1968 when Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman was formally charged in the Agartala Conspiracy Case, with “conspiring with India to bring about the secession of East Pakistan’.
The 1965 Indo-Pakistan War brought into sharp focus the basic divergences between the Bangali and non-Bangali ruling elite on issues of foreign and defence policy. Bangalis felt that the government had been totally insensitive to the security of the eastern wing when they involved Pakistan in this war. To many Bangalis, it seemed almost as if they were ready to sacrifice East Bengal for Kashmir. This view was not dispelled by assertions, made later, that the Chinese had assured the security of East Bengal. The experience seemed to bring home the fact that association with West Pakistan, rather than assuring security, had exposed East Bengal to greater hazards. Instead, the foreign and defence policy of the ruling elite – centred around confrontation with India, building up a huge conventional military machine, and entering into military pacts – proved to be counterproductive.
The contrast in the response of the two wings of Pakistan to the end of the 1965 war demonstrated the different perspectives. The end of the war and the Tashkent Declaration prompted a positive welcome from Bangalis who urged peaceful co-existence between India and Pakistan. This was in contrast to the widespread opposition to the Declaration amongst the principal political parties in the western wing, in particular in the Punjab. It also saw the launching of for autonomy, one of the points being the raising of a paramilitary force in the eastern wing and transferring, to it some of the military headquarters located in the western wing.
The rejection of the foreign and defence policies of the ruling elite became an important element in the programme of the popular political forces, infused with Bangali nationalism, who rapidly began to gain strength in East Bengal.
The military rulers had sought to contain this by falling back on the old weapon of labelling popular demands products of an ‘Indian
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5 Contemporary newspaper reports and court reports provide evidence of such false charges.
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conspiracy’, and by enlisting the support of certain right wing groups in East Bengal. They had raised the cry of ‘Islam in danger’ to attract the support of the right-wing communal elements. In the background to the Sino-Indian conflict of 1962, they had sought support against from the ‘pro-Peking’ left-wing by projecting it as an Indian (and even US/CIA!) inspired move aimed at weakening the central government and undermining its close relations with China.
The efforts of the military rulers had, however, failed to contain the popular upsurge. In fact, had merged with the Eleven Points Programme, announced by the students, in the concluding phase of the 1969 movement. Popular pressure had swept away the Agartala Conspiracy Case, and supported the Eleven Points Programme which urged withdrawal from all military pacts and the adoption of ‘a neutral and independent foreign policy
In this background, the Awami League manifesto, drawn up in 1970, committed itself to the pursuit of a non-aligned foreign policy and the withdrawal from all military pacts (SEATO and CENTO). It also enunciated a basic principle of friendship with all countries. Implicit in this was a commitment to promote friendship and cooperation with neighbouring countries, thus replacing the policy of ‘confrontation’ with that of ‘good neighbourly relations’.
Post-1970 Election Developments
The absolute majority won by the Awami League was immediately perceived of as a threat to the interests of the military rulers. Indeed, what was apprehended at the time has since been confirmed by the testimony of informed persons – that the resistance to transfer power to the elected representatives grew out of the fear that they would effect significant changes in foreign and defence policy. An end to policies of confrontation with India would eliminate the rationale for massive military expenditure. Thus, not only would there be a cut in the total resources for the armed forces, but a political government led by Bangalis would insist on structural changes in the armed forces, seeking to end both Punjabi dominance on the one hand and, more fundamentally, the dominance of the military within the state. Anxiety was often expressed, during the negotiations which took place in March 1971 and in earlier discussions, about what
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constitutional guarantees would be provided to assure the armed forces the resources they needed. Conscious of this anxiety, the Awami League negotiators had attempted to give assurances that there would be a constitutional obligation to meet the requirements of the federal defence budget.
A basic conflict of interest underlies relations between the military elite and popular political forces in developing countries. It is not that the latter are less patriotic or less conscious of the needs of national security. It is just that popular political leadership sees national security as being better served by meeting the basic needs of the people, and relying on the strength which derives from a united people committed to defending their sovereignty, than by catering to the exaggerated demands of a military elite which claims scarce resources to build-up forces, often in imitation of richer countries, providing disproportionately high standards of living to itself and thus diverting resources urgently required to meet the basic needs of the people. History is full of examples; indeed, Pakistan presented a glaring example of how resources were pre-empted for the military at the cost of the people, and how this did not provide strength and security but, inevitably, led to national self-destruction.
The divergence between the attitudes of the newly elected Bangali representatives and those of the ruling elite, with whom Bhutto had aligned himself, was reflected in their differing reactions to an incident which occurred in early February 1971 – the hijacking of an Indian passenger aircraft to Lahore, by men claiming to be Kashmiri freedom fighters. Bhutto paid glowing tributes to the hijackers, who were lionised in the streets of Lahore. The Awami League publicly condemned the hijacking and the blowing-up of the plane as an occurrence that could be exploited to obstruct the transfer of power to the people. The reaction in Lahore, to protest the position taken by the Awami League, resulted in attacks on its office in Lahore. A touch of the grotesque in the public affairs of Pakistan was provided by the fact that the Pakistani authorities claimed, subsequent to a judicial enquiry, that the hijackers were really Indian intelligence agents, who had created the situation as a pretext for the denial of air traffic rights to Pakistan. Indeed, the Indian government did ban overflights from East Bengal to West Pakistan following the hijacking!
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Attitudes of the Foreign Powers in March 1971 I clearly recall that in the anxious months of February and March 1971, party discussions had reflected concern about the major external powers’ likely responses to unilateral declaration of independence, as it was becoming increasingly clear that the ruling junta was not going to concede to the demands for autonomy but was likely to attempt to suppress it with military force.
We were advised that, given the existing global power situation and, more specifically, the power alignments in the region, the major external powers were not likely to support, and indeed were likely to oppose, the emergence of an independent Bangladesh. None of the major powers it appeared, each for its own reasons, wanted to disturb the status quo in the region. This assessment was based not only on the known positions of the powers, but in some cases was confirmed in meetings with their diplomatic representatives.
In March 1971, the US ambassador, Joseph Farland, had conveyed to Bangabandhu in clear terms that the United States was opposed to an independent Bangladesh. This confirmed our assessment that the United States was committed to the ‘unity’ of Pakistan, its ‘most allied ally’, and gave lie to the belief held within the Pakistan government and in some ‘left’ circles that the United States was inciting secession in East Bengal.6
It is noteworthy that soon after the start of my detention, in Haripur Central Jail on 6 April 1971 (having been arrested in Dhaka on 3 April 1971), the Pakistani military officers who interrogated me asserted that the ‘secession’ of East Pakistan had obviously been instigated by the United States. They insisted that I should confirm their hypothesis and insinuated that I might have acted as a ‘gobetween’ between the Awami League and US diplomats, and repeatedly asked me how often I had met the US consul general, Archer Blood. They were not amused when I informed them that the last meeting may have been some eight to ten weeks earlier, when the consul general had invited a number of guests to a diplomatic
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6 Tillman Durdin, New York Times, 26 March 26 1971 reports under the title, ‘U.S. is villain in Pakistan’, that ‘there was a widespread impression in Pakistan that the United States was supporting secession of Pakistan’, but G. W. Chowdhury, op.cit., p. 168, reports on the basis of a conversation with Joseph Farland that, ‘The U.S. Ambassador, Mr. J. Farland, had a meeting with Mujib in Dhaka in March and told him in unmistakable terms, not to expect any “support” for what the U.S. Government considered as “internal problems of Pakistan’.
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reception at which there had been very little political discussion except the usual question about how the Awami League visualised the outcome of the deliberations during the forthcoming Constituent Assembly session. In fact, the reception had ended with a film show! It was only after some two weeks of interrogation that they suddenly changed their ‘line’, and began to suggest that the secession had been instigated by the Soviet Union!
Our assessment of the Soviet position took account of their efforts, at least since 1965, to improve relations with Pakistan. The geographical proximity of the western wing provided a rationale for this objective. Yahya Khan had visited Moscow in June 1970, and had returned with valuable Soviet commitments in the field of economic cooperation – such as the erection of a $ 200 million steel mill in Karachi and power stations. All the major projects pledged were to be located in the western wing. It was understood that the military supplies that were being provided during the Ayub regime were to continue, and the visit of the Soviet defence minister, Marshal Grechko, to Islamabad in February 1971 was regarded as significant. During this period, the only direct contact with a Soviet diplomat by the party leadership was when Popov, the Soviet consul general in Dhaka, called on Bangabandhu on the night of 24 March to deliver a copy of a message the Soviet leadership had sent to Islamabad urging that a political solution be reached without any bloodshed.
Chinese diplomats, whom I had met at a social gathering on 1 March 1971, told me very clearly that their government was totally committed to the ‘unity of Pakistan’. The Awami League leaders took advantage of such social opportunities to explain the legitimate aspirations of the Bangalis for autonomy in the context of the injustice they had suffered over the previous two decades. The Awami League leadership also emphasised the goodwill felt by the Bangali people towards the Chinese. For these reasons, they expected the Chinese government to support their just cause. Indeed, Bangabandhu had made the same point when he had received the Chinese ambassador in February 1971. He recalled, with warmth, memories of his visit in the early fifties when he had met Chairman Mao and Chou En Lai. Considering the cordial atmosphere of these meetings, the Chinese opposition to the Bangladesh liberation struggle cannot be attributed, as some have done, to any lapse of
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communication on the part of the Awami League. Explanations for it must be sought in China’s perceptions of their interests in region.
India’s position which, according to Pakistan, was ‘behind it all, had not been manifest before 25 March 1971. While it was thought that some Indian support may be forthcoming, it was known that there were significant sections in India that would be opposed to the disintegration of Pakistan, as they would see it as setting a bad example to the component provinces of India, and might set a process of ‘Balkanisation’ in motion in the region. The experiences of the Awami League leaders who crossed the border into India in the early days after 25 March 1971, and their initial encounter with Indian officials and members of the Indian government, perhaps provide the most eloquent testimony against the existence of ‘a conspiracy’. The first week was spent in reporting on the prevailing critical situation. It took weeks, and indeed months, during which there was a significant escalation of violence in Bangladesh, massive exodus of people into India, and international developments that resulted in the Indian Government’s decision to extend political and military support to aid the objective of a sovereign, independent Bangladesh.
Foreign Powers and the Liberation Movement
Since I had no access to newspapers or a radio from 4 April to 28 December 28, 1971, during which period I remained in solitary confinement in Haripur Central Jail, I had no news of the outside world except through inferences drawn from questions put by interrogators and their comments. I began to understand the extent of the resistance from their questions, such as ‘How is it possible that there was no pre-planned conspiracy with India when a governmentin-exile and refugees were given sanctuary in India?’ ‘What do the words Mukti Bahini mean?’ These questions told me a great deal about how the Bangalis were resisting the military onslaught launched by the Pakistan Army on 25 March 1971.
It was only after Bangabandhu and I were allowed newspapers and a radio in Shihala7 in December 1971 that we began to understand the massive support that had been extended to the Bangladesh liberation movement by India, and the role of the joint allied forces – consisting of
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7 The rest house where we were taken from our prison cells.
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Bangladesh and Indian military forces – that had conducted the military campaign leading to the total surrender of the Pakistani forces in the eastern wing. We learnt of the Indo-Soviet Treaty of August 1971, and of Secretary of State Henry Kissinger’s visit to Beijing, in July that year. There were reports of Bhutto’s visit to Beijing in November seeking military support. A military intervention by the Chinese, hoped for by Pakistan, had not materialised although strong political and diplomatic support had been extended and military supplies provided. The Nixon administration, had in the concluding stages of the liberation war, sent the Seventh Fleet to the Bay of Bengal, ostensibly to rescue their citizens, later seeking to justify this as action intended to deter a military invasion aimed at the disintegration of the western wing of Pakistan.
Subsequently, from the reports of colleagues and written accounts,8 it was possible to form a general picture of the role of the external powers. The original assessment, made in March 1971, that none of them was positively disposed towards the emergence of an independent, sovereign Bangladesh at the time, had proved to be substantially correct. It was the intensity of Bangali nationalism, which sustained an armed struggle against terrifying odds, and the brutality of the repression inflicted by the Pakistan Army, that had attracted powerful external support. Appeals had been made, on behalf of the Bangali people, to the United Nations and to all the countries of the world. The record of the United Nations during the nine months of the war, is dismal, only to be redeemed in part by its positive contributions towards rehabilitation and reconstruction after liberation.9 In the face of a massive violation of human rights and crimes affecting 75 million people, the only response of the United Nations, given the realities of global power politics and the constraints of the states system within which the organisation operates, was to focus on the problem of ‘rehabilitation of refugees’!
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8 Among the published accounts are: Nicole Bell, Regional Conflicts and the International System. A
Case Study of Bangladesh, 1974; Robert W. Jackson, South Asia Crisis: India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, New York, 1975; G. W. Chowdhury, India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and the Major Powers, New York, Free Press, 1976; Richard Sisson and Leo E. Rose, War and Session, Pakistan, India, and the Creation of Bangladesh; University of California, 1990, Fakhruddin Ahmed, Critical Times, The University Press Ltd., 1994; Mizanur Rahman, The Emergence of a New Nation in a Multi-polar World: Bangladesh, Dhaka, APPL, 2010. A comprehensive account of the UN relief and rehabilitation is given in T. W. Oliver, United Nations in Bangladesh, Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1978.
9 T. W. Oliver, op.cit.
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While the situation in Bangladesh had stirred powerful emotions throughout the world, considerations of real politik had so affected governments that material and effective support was principally extended to the liberation movement by the governments of India and the Soviet Union, though individuals in many countries, including their legislators and press, had given support even when their administrations ’tilted’ in favour of Pakistan, as was the case with the Nixon Administration in the United States. Varying explanations have been put forward, and will continue to be put forward, for the different responses of the different governments for and against the Bangladesh liberation movement. I do not intend to evaluate these explanations in this volume. For Bangladesh, it was fortunate that some governments sympathised with the objective of our liberation struggle, whatever their reasons may have been.
Foreign Policy Orientations
A dominant impression of the last days of captivity spent with Bangabandhu, marked by the exhilaration of victory, is of his intense nationalism as his thoughts turned to how Bangladesh must evolve its foreign relations so as to preserve and safeguard its hard-won sovereignty and independence. It was recognised that one of the priority tasks would be the assumption of responsibility for Bangalis protect the frontiers themselves, and for the early withdrawal of the Indian component of the joint Bangladesh Indian allied forces. He kept expressing his confidence in those who had fought for liberation and had acquired political motivation in the course of the liberation struggle. He saw them as the principal defenders of the sovereignty and independence of Bangladesh. The people who had paid dearly for their independence were seen as a force which would know its value and would never let it be taken away from them.
In the very first press conference Bangabandhu addressed after liberation, on his arrival in London on 8 January 1972, he had thanked all the states and peoples who had supported our liberation struggle. He had been careful to distinguish between governments that had not supported Bangladesh and their citizens, many of whom had extended such support – as in the case of the United States. He had, thus, provided an orientation which would seek balanced relations with all states. In his first press conference in Dhaka, on 13 January 1972, which was largely attended by the international
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press, he declared that the role he visualised for Bangladesh was of it being ‘the Switzerland of Asia’.
The Framework of Foreign Policy: Principles and Priorities
The basic principles of foreign policy had gained the support of politically conscious people in Bangladesh. Their experience of the Pakistan period, as well as the new realities that had emerged, provided a rational basis for the adoption of these principles.
The first principle that was articulated was that Bangladesh’s foreign policy should be independent and non-aligned. There was a repudiation of the military pacts to which Pakistan had been a party. Indeed in the last years of Pakistan, there had been progressive disillusionment with the policy of alliances and military pacts, as it was realised that these had not come to Pakistan’s aid in times of crisis nor had it prevented Pakistan’s allies from supporting India – as they did in the wake of the Sino-Indian conflict of 1962. Pakistan, without formally withdrawing from the pacts, had embarked on a policy of bilateralism, of seeking an improvement in relations with each of the powers on a bilateral basis without such relations being directed against any of the others. This had enabled it, after 1962, to develop relations with China and the Soviet Union, without undermining its relations with the United States. In 1971, however, when sanity had been abandoned, Pakistan had embarked on a course that led to the polarisation of foreign interests and alliances in the region, with the Soviet Union and India on the one side and the United States and China on the other. Pakistan itself was caught in the middle. The result, in terms of its national security and foreign policy, from Pakistan’s view, was a disaster as it ended in the surrender of the armed forces in Bangladesh
One of the lessons to be derived from this experience – and indeed many others may be drawn – which has relevance for the foreign policy of the states in South Asia, is the importance of the efforts to avoid the intensification of power competition in the region. Such competition could lead to polarisation and conflict, in which the position of the states themselves might be exposed to external pressures.
Thus, Bangladesh’s commitment to non-alignment was further reinforced by the experience of 1971, which exposed the futility of
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military pacts. The pursuit of security through the building up of conventional military forces had proved equally futile. The steady diversion of resources, which had taken place over a period of two decades, had built up a massive military machine in Pakistan which had operated as an instrument of repression against its own people. When it had come to protecting the security of the country, it had failed miserably. Not only that, but it could be contended with great conviction that the building-up of military dominance within Pakistan was the necessary by-product of the concept of security pursued by it; and that such dominance had led to the paranoia which had driven Pakistan to its loss. I recall, in the last days of my captivity in Pakistan, the anger and low morale of the young commandos who were on guard duty. In those days of surrender and humiliation, they saw their plight as being the direct result of the nilitary having taken on more than it could sustain. They clearly felt at the disaster would not have taken place had the military not quired dominance in Pakistan and not usurped political kadership. They talked of how, instead of retaining and developing professional capabilities, military officers had become politicians and bureaucrats and, what was even worse, businessmen and landlords. They had become flabby and corrupt. This, they had felt, was an inevitable consequence of the assumption by the military of a political role in developing countries. It was this mood that had led the younger officers to threaten to revolt against power being handed over to another general by Yahya Khan, and was instrumental in bringing Bhutto, as an elected political leader, to power. Perhaps the observation may be made that had Bhutto himself learnt some lessons as well as the young commandos of Pakistan had, he would not have moved to rehabilitate and strengthen the military as he did. But, this again was an inevitable result of his increasing reliance on the military to deal with situations, such as that in Baluchistan and in the tribal areas. The lesson is inescapable that a very high price has to be paid by a political leadership, and indeed an entire society, if it loses faith in, or becomes impatient with political processes in solving the basic problems and conflicts in society and, instead, begins to rely on force for their solution.
In Bangladesh, the political leadership and the people shared conviction that while the highest priority was to be accorded to the
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objectives of national security and the defence of sovereignty, the way to achieve it was not the Pakistani way because it had proved a total failure. The three basic elements of the Pakistani way were: to devote disproportionately high budgetary allocations for the military; the pursuit of confrontation with India; and, the attempt to borrow strength from external sources in order to enhance its military power and to sustain confrontation.
The situation on the morrow of Bangladesh’s liberation had opened up new possibilities. Where hostility and confrontation had brought suffering and destruction to millions of people, investment in a new framework of peace and cooperation seemed a risk well worth taking and also promised to open up a vista of hope for all the peoples of South Asia. It was from this perspective that Bangladesh would pursue a policy of non-alignment, seeking good relations with all the major powers and avoiding getting drawn into global or regional power competitions.
It was on these premises that Bangladesh charted out a course for developing good neighbourly relations with India; indeed, at the same time, as is described below, persevered and made substantia. sacrifices, towards developing similar relations with Pakistai! despite the terrible memories of 1971 and despite the often negative and obstructive responses from the Government of Pakistan.
The goal was peace and stability in South Asia. To insulate the region from power competition, to be able to solve mutual problems peacefully and through negotiations, to be able to cooperate together in securing objectives that were mutually advantageous – while respecting the principles of national sovereignty, equality, and noninterference in each other’s internal affairs – were the basic elements of this framework.
This was in 1972, and remains even today, the most sensible set of objectives to guide the mutual relations of the states of South Asia. The pursuit of these objectives was, however, to encounter obstacles and opposition, both from within and without.
The perceptions were, no doubt, largely conditioned by the power realignments of 1971 implicit in the Sino-US rapprochement and the Indo-Soviet Treaty. The destructive fallout from these perceptions was the insinuation, which began to be made, that Bangladesh was not independent but had somehow compromised its sovereignty. No
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imputation could be more false. This can be borne out by an objective consideration of the record – of the foreign policy pursued, an assessment of its achievements, and an understanding of the impulses which lay behind its formulation.
Chapter 11
Development of Foreign Relations
While our priority was to grapple with the destruction caused in Bangladesh during the war of liberation, there was an urgent need to pursue the development of our foreign relations. It involved obtaining recognition from states and establishing diplomatic relations with them. We needed to develop relations with the major powers and other countries of the world. It also meant completing the formalities for taking our place in different international organisations. As events were to show, it involved more than just formalities so far as membership of the United Nations was concerned.
It is through its actions in its early years that a new state begins to define its personality – the kind of state it is and the kind of role it sees itself playing in the world. This would be revealed in the principles it would seek to observe in its foreign relations, the positions it would take on different issues and at international fora, by its mode and style of diplomacy, and its approach to the solution of outstanding problems. A profile of Bangladesh had begun to clearly emerge from the record of its performance and its actions until the violent change in August 1975. This image was reflected in the sustained efforts made to adhere to the principle of non-alignment in its relations with the major powers. It was reflected in the dignified and steadfast position Bangladesh had maintained, that it would not engage in ‘horse-trading’ to secure recognition or membership of an international organisation. Its personality also clearly emerged in the principled support given to national liberation struggles (manifested by the early recognition accorded to the PRG in Vietnam, and to GuineaBissau), to the Palestinian cause in the Middle East, and to the efforts of the developing countries to promote a change in the structure of the global economy (which, in the seventies, was expressed as
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promoting a new international economic order). Bangladesh was active in pursuing friendly relations with all the countries of the world. With its neighbours, it was to seek the best of good-neighbourly relations, by adopting a positive and constructive approach to the resolution of outstanding issues, whether it was the issue of delimitation of maritime and land boundaries with Burma and India, or of the Farakka barrage with the latter, or issues such as division of assets and the repatriation of non-Bangalis with Pakistan.
Bangladesh and the Major Powers
The major powers had been polarised during the liberation struggle. The former Soviet Union had supported the Bangladesh liberation struggle. The Nixon administration in the United States had ’tilted’in favour of Pakistan, and the Chinese had openly supported it. While Soviet support might have been expected to lead to Bangladesh’s tilt towards, or alignment with, the Soviet Union, Bangladesh strove assiduously to observe the principle of non-alignment in its relations with all the major powers.
The Soviet Union
Given the support extended by the Soviet Union, there was already a basis for good relations when Bangladesh emerged as a sovereign state. Sheikh Mujib, as prime minister of Bangladesh, made his first visit outside the region to Moscow from 1 to 3 March 1972. The Joint Declaration arrived at, at the end of the visit, reaffirmed the desire of both countries to develop friendly relations and mutual cooperation on the basis of respect for the principles of sovereignty, equality, and non-interference in international affairs. Both sides had expressed themselves in favour of negotiations for a genuine political settlement of outstanding issues among the countries of South Asia. The positions taken on major international issues were the basic positions subscribed to by the non-aligned countries, such as: support to national liberation struggles, condemnation of racial discrimination and apartheid, support for the Palestinian cause in the Middle East, and a declaration in favour of disarmament. Two economic co-operation agreements were concluded.
The Soviet Union offered to send the salvage unit of the Soviet Navy to assist in the clearance, free of cost, of the Chittagong and
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Chalna ports which had been damaged by bombing during the war. The problem of clearing the ports was an urgent one. Bangladesh had requested the United Nations for assistance. Over a month had passed without any result. Even a response on the offer was kept pending until the Bangladesh delegation returned to Dhaka. When it was confirmed that no proposal had yet been received from the United Nations, it was decided to accept the Soviet offer in principle; the modalities, as to the scope and duration of the work, were spelt out in a written protocol. The United Nations came forward with an offer to have the ports cleared through a professional salvage company, the cost to be borne out of Swedish aid. Bangladesh decided to divide the salvage work. The United Nations was asked to arrange for clearance of the Chalna port. The entire operation was on the basis of terms which stipulated the nature of the work to be done and specified a time limit. When some extra time was needed, because of difficult underwater conditions and because of additional work requested, the time limit was extended by mutual agreement. The work was completed within the extended time limit after which the salvage unit left. There was no basis, therefore, for the baseless propaganda spread by certain interested quarters that the Soviet Navy was prolonging its presence in Bangladesh, or that it was seeking facilities there.
While co-operation in different fields was promoted and progressed satisfactorily, it did not inhibit seeking similar co-operation and assistance from other powers. Nor did it impede the conduct of its independent, non-aligned foreign policy. This was concretely illustrated by the position taken by Bangladesh vis-a-vis the concept of Asian Collective Security, which was favoured by the Soviet Union. Bangladesh maintained the position that it favoured developing its relations with other Asian countries on a bilateral basis, and not within a multi-lateral framework. The record would show that the shrill note struck by government officials following the coup on 15 August 1975, that Bangladesh had been subject to ‘hegemony’, was unwarranted. The regrettable tendency that was manifest, in the wake of that tragic event, of using terms in official communiqués that were calculated to give offence to one or other of the major powers, was hardly a manifestation of maturity or of nonalignment. Previously, great care had always been taken to avoid
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such phrases. There is a well established stock of such offensive words which all genuinely non-aligned countries are careful to avoid. Even when the Chinese had vetoed Bangladesh’s membership proposal, Bangladesh had refrained from using, in the official communiqué, words which were known to be offensive to them. It might be worth noting that Malaysia, when discussing normalisation with the Chinese, had strenuously negotiated not to include such words as ‘hegemony’ in the formal communique. Yet, the self-styled defenders of Bangladesh’s sovereignty who took over on 15 August 1975 had not hesitated to rush in with a new diplomacy, where more mature diplomacy would have hesitated to tread.
The United States
President Nixon’s position, during the liberation war was graphically described by Secretary of State Kissinger to his colleagues at a meeting of the Washington Special Action Group on 3 December 1971:1
I am getting hell every half-hour from the President that we are not being tough enough on India. He has just called me again. He does not believe we are carrying out his wishes. He wants to tilt in favour of Pakistan…
Kissinger, when he paid a courtesy call on Bangabandhu at his suite in the Waldorf-Astoria, during the latter’s visit to New York to address the UN General Assembly session in September 1974, had himself said that as a student of history, he had never believed in the viability of Pakistan. He had also started to say that, ‘We (the United States) had in our own way wanted to help the emergence of a sovereign Bangladesh…’ He stopped himself, saying that this was now part of the past and the he would not like to revive old matters. It is not clear whether he was alluding to the contact that had been made with Khandaker Mushtaque by US officials during October/ November 1971. This move had been seen by the Mujibnagar government as a clandestine plot to negotiate a settlement with Pakistan within the framework of a loose confederation, and thus to sabotage the emergence of a sovereign, independent Bangladesh. This was at a time when the gains made by the Mukti Bahini and the support committed to them made the prospect of sovereign Bangladesh a certainty within a matter of weeks, if not days.
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1 See Chapter 13 of this volume.
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Mushtaque had been disowned by his colleagues and his secretary, Mahbubul Alam Chashi, was removed from his post.
A further sign of the hostility of the Nixon administration was the despatch of the Seventh Fleet units to the Bay of Bengal just before the surrender of the Pakistan Army. The US consul general at the time, Herbert Spivak, was to confirm after his retirement that a streak of irrational hostility seemed to mark the Nixon administration’s attitude towards Bangladesh. An example he cited was the reply received by him from Washington on 10 January 1972, when he had sought instructions as to whether he should attend Sheikh Mujib’s arrival at the airport. The reply had come, ‘Send the most junior officer in the consulate!’ He had disregarded the instructions and went himself.
After liberation, however, Bangladesh did not wish such hostility to continue as it was perceived that it was in its greater interest to have good relations with the United States, and to receive support and assistance from it for the reconstruction and development of the country. There had been understandable sentiment among some of the members of the Mujibnagar government to refuse US assistance. Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujib’s pragmatic view had prevailed. He went out of his way, in public statements to point out that even though the Nixon administration had opposed Bangladesh during the liberation war, we received valuable support from members of the US Congress, the US media, and its people. Senator Edward Kennedy, who visited Bangladesh in early 1972, was given a warm welcome. Bangladesh, for its part, wanted to develop good relations with the United States. But for the positive lead given by Sheikh Mujib in this matter, it would have proved difficult to improve the atmosphere of hostility set by the Nixon Administration. The United States eventually began to reconcile itself to the reality of Bangladesh. Recognition was accorded on 4 April 1972, and substantial economic assistance began to be provided.
However, the irrational streak seemed, to persist within the US Administration, although there was a fund of goodwill within Congress. Bangladesh counted leaders of the Congress, such as Senators Kennedy, McGovern, Church, Saxbe, and Percy, among those who had actively supported Bangladesh. The Administration’s tilt was manifest from time to time. Three somewhat unpleasant manifestations of it may be recounted. These related to: the issue of
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the division of liabilities (with Pakistan), food aid, and Sheikh Mujib’s visit to Washington.
An initial problem that called for urgent solution was the division of the assets and liabilities of the former undivided Pakistan. The value of the total assets which were, and still remain, to be apportioned have been estimated by independent experts to be in the region of $4,000 million.2 The total liabilities which were to be apportioned were estimated to be in the region of $3,000 million, the bulk of which were to be borne by Pakistan as the greater part of the loans had been utilised for the benefit of the western wing. Bangladesh’s position was that it would not assume responsibility for any liabilities unless there was an apportionment of assets also. This could be achieved through an overall settlement with Pakistan, on the basis of negotiations to be held as soon as Pakistan recognised Bangladesh. Indeed, so long as Pakistan failed to agree on the principle of the division of liabilities, the minimum legal basis for settlement did not exist. Pakistan was anxious to shed responsibility for debt servicing liability in respect to a substantial portion of its debts, without having to part with any portion of the common assets. For this, it was able to enlist the support of the World Bank and the United States in 1973. At a meeting of donors convened in Dhaka in March 1973 to discuss its requirements of economic assistance, Bangladesh found itself confronted with the demand that it should forthwith and unilaterally assume responsibility for a part of the former Pakistan’s debt liabilities. Or else, donors might find themselves unable to make any offer of assistance. It was said that the donors could not give assistance to any country that was in ‘default’ of debt servicing, and if Bangladesh did not agree to service those debts of the former Pakistan which were attributable to the eastern wing, no assistance could be given. The largest country creditor was the United States. Bangladesh was, thus, being subjected to naked pressure to help Pakistan relieve itself of part of its debt burden, without coming forward to share the assets. The position, as seen by Bangladesh, was totally unconscionable.
While in charge of the law ministry in 1972, I had discussed this matter with Professor Daniel O’Connell, a leading international legal expert on the question of state succession. He confirmed that there
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2 Nurul Islam, Making of a Nation – Bangladesh: An Economist’s Tale, Dhaka, The University Press
Ltd., 2003, p. 291.
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could be no question of Bangladesh being under any legal obligation to assume part of the former Pakistan’s debts, without an overall settlement that would embrace a division of assets. At a meeting with the prime minister, the finance minister, and the deputy chairman of the Planning Commission, I could emphatically assert that there was no basis in international law for the demand that was being made by the donors. What the donors were attempting to do was, in fact, to put pressure on Bangladesh to accept a burden which it was not obliged to bear. A sense of outrage was shared by all of us participating in the meeting. Sheikh Mujib’s intense nationalism was to express itself in the statement he made to the donors’ representatives: ‘Gentlemen, millions have died to create Bangladesh because they could not tolerate the injustice inflicted on our people by Pakistan. What you are now demanding is unjust. We will not submit to it. We have millions of hands with which we will dig the soil and produce what we need from it. If your aid is subject to unjust conditions, we do not want such aid. Thank you very much!’ The donors were taken aback. They had not expected this spirited response. They were to climb down from their position.
I had insisted that the matter should be examined by the World Bank’s legal experts. The opinion given by them, some weeks later, fully supported the legal position taken by Bangladesh. The position taken by the World Bank mission was given up and offers of aid made unconditional. It was later agreed that Bangladesh, without prejudice to its claims against Pakistan, would only assume liability for projects ‘visibly located in Bangladesh.3
The issue of food aid arose in 1974, when Bangladesh was faced with the imminent threat of famine. The sudden floods in July had, according to the representative of the UN Natural Disaster Agency, destroyed nearly one million tons of rice. If the shortfall was not met from imports, a famine could result. Urgent appeals had been made to expedite food shipments. Just then, Bangladesh was informed that the loans being processed on easy terms under the Food for Peace Programme could not proceeded as it had been found that Bangladesh had sold some jute bags to Cuba. The Washington Post, on 30 September 1974, was quick to point out that:
The US position on Bangladesh’s non-eligibility for credit under the Food for Peace Program came shortly before President Ford waived restrictions
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3 Ibid., pp. 295-6.
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resulting from Egypt’s continuing trade with Cuba ‘in the national interest’ … Washington authorised loans to Cairo totalling $27 million for the purchase of 4,000 tons of US tobacco and 100,000 tons of wheat.
Under threat of famine, Bangladesh gave an undertaking not to engage in such trade. Even so, the dictates of the US Administration’s food diplomacy required that no food should be shipped until the last consignment of jute bags had actually been shipped from Bangladesh. In the words of Emma Rothschild who published her research on ‘Food Politics’ in Foreign Affairs:4 “By the time American food arrived in Bangladesh, the autumn famine was over”.
It had been decided that Bangabandhu would address the UN General Assembly on the occasion of Bangladesh’s admission to the United Nations, at its 29th session in September 1974. It is almost a matter of course for a visiting head of state who visits New York to pass through Washington for a meeting with the president of the United States. Indeed, the US ambassador in Bangladesh, having learnt of the proposed trip to New York, had indicated that he had informed Washington and that he hoped that a visit could also be made to Washington. The arrangements for addressing the UN General Assembly were finalised, but a response from Washington was still to arrive. There was a view within the government of
Bangladesh, that Bangabandhu should visit New York and fly back, without going to Washington. The invitation did, however, come and Bangabandhu decided to accept. He felt that a refusal by him would be misconstrued to malign Bangladesh by suggesting that it was under Soviet and Indian influence. It would be said that, although he had gone to Moscow, he had not accepted an invitation to go to Washington. This was the first time he would be visiting the United States after the emergence of Bangladesh. An omission to visit Washington would be conspicuous and would raise speculation and comment, mainly aimed at undermining the non-aligned image that Bangladesh had consistently striven to sustain. The visit did take place. But, the atmosphere created by the protocol arrangements left the clear impression that it was intended to extend a ‘correct’, rather than a ‘friendly’, welcome. The warmth of the welcome with which Sheikh Mujib was received in the US Senate was in sharp contrast to that from the Executive Branch. An hour of talks with President Ford (who had earlier succeeded President Nixon upon his resignation in
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4 Emma Rothschild, “Food Politics,” Foreign Affairs, 1976, Vol. 54, pp. 285-307.
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the face of a threat of impeachment) were cordial enough. But the Bangladesh delegation left with the impression that the Administration had held itself back.
Kissinger was to visit Bangladesh a few weeks later, from 30-31 October 1974. He paid fulsome tributes to Sheikh Mujib, and ascribed delays and hold-ups in aid disbursements to bureaucracy; he reaffirmed US commitments to the long-term economic development of Bangladesh. Despite the stresses caused by the Administration’s ’tilt’, Bangladesh continued to cultivate good relations with the United States. The flow of economic assistance reflected the success of those efforts.
In this context, the quick recognition and support given to Khandaker Mushtaque after he took over in the wake of the brutal assassinations of Bangabandhu, his family members, and several Awami League leaders, raised some pertinent questions, which remain unanswered. It was Senator Kennedy’s intervention which closed the doors of the United States to Bangabandhu’s killers, when they sought visas to enable them to relocate themselves in the United States towards the end of 1975.
China
China had extended positive support to Pakistan throughout the Bangladesh liberation struggle. Chinese Prime Minister Chou En Lai, in a letter to Yahya on 13 April 1971, expressed support for Pakistan’s efforts ‘to uphold the unification of Pakistan and to prevent it from moving towards a split’. The hope, however, had been expressed that ‘the situation in Pakistan will certainly be restored to normal by the wide consultations and efforts of Yahya and leaders of various quarters in Pakistan’. In the same letter, China had assured that ‘Should the Indian expansionists dare to launch aggression against Pakistan, the Chinese government and people will as always fully support the Pakistan government and people in their just struggle to safeguard state sovereignty and national independence’. Some analysts have made the point that the Chinese were limiting their support to safeguarding state sovereignty and national independence and not to defending the unity and integrity of Pakistan.5 The actual fact is that the Chinese did not, themselves, intervene on the side of
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5 R. Sisson and L. E. Rose, op.cit., pp. 250-52.
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Pakistan, though Pakistan till the end seemed to expect it. The Pakistan Army Headquarters in Rawalpindi led General Niazi in Dhaka to believe that such help would be forthcoming from the Chinese. The Chinese did, indeed, provide military supplies and strong diplomatic support. Beijing’s People’s Daily on 6 December 1971 asserted:
Last March the Indian government supported the secessionists in Pakistan by every means, and grossly interfered in Pakistan’s internal affairs. Later it cooked up a so-called ‘Provisional Government of Bangladesh’, which it actually installed on Indian territory, and sent so-called ‘freedom-fighters’ into East Pakistan to perpetrate armed harassment and subversion. Now it is trying to inject the so-called ‘Bangladesh’ puppet regime into Pakistan through open, direct invasion by Indian troops, so as to achieve its long planned aim to annex East Pakistan.
The paper went on to compare Bangladesh ‘to the Japanese puppet state of Manchukuo’ and declared that ‘the Indian reactionaries are
pant to such an extent because they have the support of social imperialism’. In the Security Council meeting, the Chinese Permanent representative (later foreign minister), Huang Hua, opposed the Polish proposal to invite the representatives from Bangladesh to address the Security Council, stating that the participation of this rebellious organisation would be tantamount to interfering in Pakistan’s domestic affairs’. He demanded that the Security Council ‘strongly condemn the aggressive acts of the Indian government and demand that the Indian government immediately and unconditionally withdraw all the Indian armed forces from Pakistan’.
Despite such manifest hostility by the Chinese, Bangladesh extended all due courtesies to the Chinese diplomats who were in Dhaka at the time of the liberation. The Chinese decided to close down their mission on 24 January 1972, when the consul-general and his staff left for Beijing. No hostility was manifested towards them or their government by Bangladesh.
K. M. Kaiser, a Bangali who had served as Pakistan’s ambassador even after the war, left Beijing along with other Bangalis in the mission and arrived in Dhaka in early May. He reported that Prime Minister Chou En Lai had met him before his departure and expressed the view that, in time, relations would develop between China and Bangladesh. An interesting observation made by him, which was reported by Kaiser and subsequently confirmed by an
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independent source was that the countries of South Asia should think of forming a Commonwealth of their own, instead of belonging to the British Commonwealth. This would be in the interest of the peoples of the region. Chou En Lai had also indicated that the Chinese would consider importing jute from Bangladesh.
There was an interesting sequel, on the Pakistani side, to the Commonwealth proposal. Apparently, this idea was conveyed to Islamabad also. It is reported that when it reached Bhutto, there was a strong adverse reaction; Aziz Ahmed was dispatched to Beijing immediately to convince Chou En Lai that this was ‘an outrageous idea’.
With regard to the proposal to import jute, Kaiser had obtained the prime minister’s approval to convey a positive response. The foreign secretary at the time, Syed Anwarul Karim, had forwarded the proposal for action to the commerce ministry. They, in turn, had processed the matter and Rafiqul Ameen of the Jute Marketing Corporation was deputed to leave for Hong Kong with a letter from Kaiser. It appears that at the last moment his departure was deferred. The matter, however, did not rest there. I recall that this subject was brought up for consideration at a Cabinet meeting held in late July, just after Bangabandhu had left for a gall bladder operation in London. It was decided that an official should be despatched to Hong Kong to convey the offer of jute. The official was duly despatched, and reached sometime in the first week of August. He found that the Chinese official he was to contact was away. He awaited his return. By the time the Chinese official returned, the Chinese veto to Bangladesh’s application for UN membership had already taken place on 25 August 1972. The Chinese had opposed Bangladesh’s application. The Chinese representative urged, during the Security Council debate on 10 August that the application from ‘so-called Bangladesh’ should not be considered because that country was in violation of the Charter and the UN resolutions. The Chinese position was summed up, thus: ‘Only when the relevant UN resolutions (dealing with repatriation of prisoners of war) have been truly implemented and only after a reasonable settlement of the issues between India and Pakistan and between Pakistan and Bangladesh can the Security Council consider Bangladesh’s application for membership of the United Nations’. In view of this development, it was not surprising that the Chinese official showed no interest, in the import of jute from Bangladesh on his return.
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In June 1974, following sustained diplomatic efforts, the resolution recommending Bangladesh’s membership was adopted unanimously.6 The Chinese representative, Huang Hua, who had participated in the negotiations leading to the adoption of the resolution, was among the first to come forward and offer his congratulations, with the words, Bangladesh is a strong country, your strength is the strength of your 75 million people’. I thanked him, and said, ‘Truly, this was Bangladesh’s strength. Bangalis had drawn strength from their unity in their liberation struggle and now faced the future with confidence’.
It was decided that I should meet the Chinese foreign minister, Chiao Kuan-Hua, who had come to New York for the General Assembly session. The meeting was held at the Chinese mission, and the talks extended for nearly an hour. I recounted the people’s was the people of Bangladesh had fought, and the great sacrifices they had made, for their liberation. They had expected support from the Chinese because the people of Bangladesh had always had friendly feelings for the Chinese people. Of course, Bangladesh thought it unfortunate that the Chinese had found reasons for not being able to support our liberation struggle. I recalled the visit of Shaheed Suhrawardy, and of Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujib, to Beijing in the fifties. Chiao Kuan-Hua replied that he was aware of the traditional friendship between the two peoples. The present situation would change – clearly alluding to recognition. He went on to say that he hoped that problems with Pakistan would be resolved soon and that the process of normalisation was in the interests of both sides. To this, I had replied that Bangladesh, despite all that it had suffered in 1971, had spared no effort to find solutions to outstanding problems. I referred to the Agreement of August 1973 and the Tripartite Agreement of 1974. It was now for Pakistan to reciprocate, in the same spirit to solve the remaining issues pertaining to assets and repatriation. The meeting ended on a cordial note.
The Chinese then invited the Bangladesh delegation to their national day reception on 1 October. I had accompanied Bangabandhu to Washington that morning and attended the meeting with President Ford. I flew back in time to attend the Chinese reception the same evening. Chiao Kuan-Hua was inside but, as he was informed of my arrival, came out and welcomed me. He echoed the sentiments expressed by the Chinese permanent representative and on an apologetic note said that he was glad that Bangladesh had now taken
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6 The account of the campaign is given below in Chapter 14.
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its rightful place in the United Nations; China, despite its initial opposition, would now look forward to friendly relations and mutual cooperation, implying that normalisation of relations could be expected to follow.
Soon after Bangladesh’s entry into the United Nation in 1974, Ambassador Kaiser reported from Rangoon (now Yangon) that his Chinese counterpart appeared to be keen to maintain contact with him. Through these meetings, it was agreed that a Bangladesh trade delegation would visit a Canton (Guangzhou) fair in April. A delegation, which included a former civil servant A. K. M. Musa and an official of the foreign trade ministry, went to Canton (Guangzhou) and engaged in discussions with Chinese officials about the possibilities of initiating trade. Positive responses were received. The Chinese were interested in importing jute, and were willing to supply coal and cement. After the delegation returned, steps were taken to start trade. The cement offer, though slightly higher in price than an offer from another source, was accepted, with Bangabandhu’s personal approval, as this would initiate the process of trade.
Bangladesh was invited to send a delegation to the fair again in autumn. Progress had started to be made towards normalisation. Ambassador Kaiser had travelled to North Korea, where he was accredited, through Beijing. He had been authorised by Dhaka to use his stopover in Beijing for talks. He returned to report that the formalisation of relations could be expected fairly soon. It seemed that the Chinese, wanting to respect Pakistan sensibilities, was waiting until relations were first established with them. This alone seemed to be the inhibiting factor. The process of normalisation was all but complete.
Recognition
India announced recognition of Bangladesh on 6 December 1971 after Bhutan. There was a spate of recognitions after the surrender of the Pakistan Army on 16 December 1971: GDR and Bulgaria on 11 January 1972; Poland and Mongolia on 12 January; Burma on 13 January; Nepal on 16 January; Barbados on 20 January; Yugoslavia on 22 January; Soviet Union on 24 January; Czechoslovakia on 25 January; Hungary on 26 January; Cyprus on 27 January; Australia, New Zealand, Fiji, and Cambodia on 31 January; United Kingdom, Western Germany, Australia, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Finland,
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Iceland, Western Samoa and Tonga on 4 February; Thailand on 7 February; Japan and Cuba on 10 February; Ireland, Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxemburg on 11 February; France and Italy on 12 February; Canada on 14 February; Sri Lanka on 14 March; United States on 4 April.
By September 1973, Bangladesh had already been recognised by over 100 states. It had become a full member of the Commonwealth and of the Non-Aligned Conference, and of most of the organisations of the UN family (ILO, IMF, IBRD, WHO, etc.). The Algiers NonAligned Summit in September 1973, consisting of 76 states (nearly two-thirds of the UN membership), had adopted a resolution urging the immediate admission of Bangladesh into the United Nations.
Intense Pakistani efforts to block Bangladesh’s admission to the United Nations, and of its recognition by other states, had (exce
cept for the Chinese veto in the UN in August 1972) met with major setbacks. Initially, Pakistan had adopted a position similar to the Hallstein Doctrine adopted by West Germany, under which West Germany
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declared that it would break off diplomatic relations with any state which recognised East Germany. Pakistan announced, in early 1972, that it would break off diplomatic relations with states which recognised Bangladesh. It did, in fact, break diplomatic relations with Bulgaria, Yugoslavia, Poland, and some other states, and recalled ambassadors from Burma and for granting recognition to Bangladesh. But, when the major powers – USSR, USA, and the EEC countries – came through with recognition in the first half of 1972, Pakistan was quick to abandon its poor man’s Hallstein doctrine.
Pakistan had sought to block Bangladesh’s admission to the Commonwealth by threatening to quit if Bangladesh were admitted. Bangladesh was admitted as a full member of the Commonwealth on 18 April 1972. Pakistan, forced to live up to its threat, had to withdraw from the Commonwealth. The only areas where a measure of success was achieved in ‘delaying’ recognition was with the Chinese and with some of the states of the Middle East. Pakistan had made special appeals to them, to delay recognition until Pakistan had
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accorded recognition. The delay in Pakistan’s recognition of Bangladesh was, in fact, a cause of embarrassment to some of those states which had delayed recognition, in deference to personal appeals by Pakistan’s president, Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto, who had flown to their capitals in early 1972.
In early 1973, the foreign minister of Egypt, Dr. Hassan al Zayyat, a distinguished scholar of Islamic History, visited Bangladesh. He explained that their recognition had been delayed because of a personal appeal of the kind described above. The delay in Pakistan’s recognition had begun to cause embarrassment. He proposed that a mission be opened in Cairo, and that formal recognition would follow. He assured us that Egypt would not defer this indefinitely. If Pakistan did not come through with recognition soon, Egypt would go ahead regardless. The foreign minister of Turkey, who passed through Dhaka soon afterwards, conveyed similar sentiments. Bangladesh proceeded to open a mission in Cairo, as agreed, without waiting for a formal declaration of recognition.
The imminence of the Non-Aligned Summit in Algiers in September 1974 accelerated the process of recognition. A special envoy came from Algeria around May to invite Bangladesh to participate in the Summit meeting, as it was clear that Bangladesh would be formally admitted as a full member of the Non-Aligned Conference. The envoy was Mr. Yazid, who had been an active member of the FLN (the National Liberation Front) during the Algerian war of liberation. Mr. Yazid was taken to meet the wounded freedom fighters, who were under treatment at the Sher-e-Bangla Hospital. There was no more moving testimony of the sacrifices made by the youth of Bangladesh for liberation than for him to see, with his own eyes, the valiant young men who had lost their limbs to liberate their country. No better demonstration could be made of the lie that Bangladesh was a creation of India – the propaganda projected by Pakistan. The Algerian special envoy was visibly moved by his meeting with the wounded freedom fighters, and urged that a special envoy be sent to Algeria to dispel some of the false propaganda that had been propagated against Bangladesh. Dr. A. R. Mallick, a historian, was sent to Algiers in June 1973. In the first week of July, Algeria, together with Morocco and Tunisia, extended recognition to Bangladesh. The special envoys sent to different countries during
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May and June 1973, to explain the Joint Declaration to heads of government, had also had the opportunity to counter Pakistani propaganda. The Non-Aligned Summit provided an occasion for Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujib to directly meet many heads of state. He met King Feisal, and had long discussion with President Assad of Syria, President Boumedienne of Algeria, President Moamar Gaddafi of Libya, and President Anwar Sadat of Egypt.
The events of October 1973 were to further pull down the barriers that Pakistan had erected to obstruct the Arab states’ recognition of Bangladesh. The report of the Egyptian crossing of the Suez Canal, which launched a war in October, reached Dhaka in the late hours of the night. Instead of waiting till the morning to deal with the matter, the prime minister held an urgent meeting with the foreign secretary and it was decided to send an immediate message expressing support and solidarity. As it turned out, the message from Bangladesh was one of the first to reach Cairo, and was immediately broadcast throughout the Arab world. A decision had already been taken to provide material support in whatever form possible. Reports had reached that, among the materials that were being mustered for the Egyptian front, tea was in short supply. There were also appeals from the Syrian front for support in the form of medical facilities. Immediate action was taken in Bangladesh to load its only Boeing aircraft with tea, to be followed by another flight with a complete army medical unit to Syria. The supplies landed in Benghazi in Libya and the medical unit in Beirut. The army medical unit, which served with distinction, reported that their services had been greatly appreciated and that while they had served in uniform (demonstrating their formal support), other medical units, and particularly the Pakistanis, had not served in uniform.
Formal recognition by Egypt and Syria was immediate, followed within days by Kuwait and Jordan. The climate created by the false Pakistani propaganda in the Middle East began to evaporate rapidly. The process of recognition by the states of that region was given a further push by diplomatic activity undertaken by Bangladesh in January and February 1974, in the context of the Pakistani initiative to host an Islamic Summit in Lahore to declare solidarity and support for the Arab cause in the Middle East.
Pakistan’s recognition was announced on 22 February 1974. Iran and Turkey followed on the same day. These were followed by
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recognitions by the United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Oman and Libya. The only outstanding recognitions on 15 August 1975 were from the Chinese and Saudi Arabia. The circumstances affecting the Chinese have been discussed above. The circumstances affecting the Saudi Arabian recognition are discussed below.
Saudi Arabia
Nowhere had the Pakistani propaganda – that the largest Muslim state in the world had been broken up by external intervention – had greater effect than in Saudi Arabia. Given Saudi Arabia’s special position in the Muslim world, and the late King Feisal’s strong commitment to Muslim solidarity, they were specially vulnerable to such propaganda. This was reinforced by the efforts of the various Islamic solidarity organisations based in, and financially supported by, Saudi Arabia. As was the case with the other Arab countries, Bangladesh seized every opportunity to dispel such propaganda by presenting its position at the highest level.
Bangabandhu sent a special envoy carrying a personal message, to King Feisal in May 1973, as part of the worldwide diplomatic effort to explain Bangladesh’s positive efforts in normalising relations in the subcontinent.
In September 1973, a meeting took place during the Non-Aligned Summit in Algiers, between King Feisal and Bangabandhu. King Feisal had observed that he looked upon the people of both Bangladesh and of Pakistan as a fraternity and that to him, they were equally dear and precious as his ‘two eyes’. Bangabandhu responded that the people of Bangladesh had special reverence for King Feisal as the custodian of the Ka’bah. The King then went on to say that it was sad that the largest Muslim state had been broken up, and he was concerned that Bangladesh had become a secular state. Bangabandhu replied that, to understand the reasons for the break-up of Pakistan, one had to understand the history of the twenty years of Pakistan during which Bangalis had suffered injustices and had made many sacrifices to maintain a united Pakistan, all to no avail. In the end, Bangalis had been attacked by the military. The Pakistan Army, acting in the name of Islam, had butchered unarmed Bengali Muslims and had raped Muslim women. Bangabandhu underlined that, as one who had a pre-eminent position in the Muslim world,
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King Feisal should take cognisance of these atrocities which had been perpetrated on his Muslim brothers and sisters in Bangladesh. This strong statement had a visible impact on King Feisal. He said he was sorry that these tragic events had taken place and he wanted to help Bangladesh materially: this could be facilitated if Bangladesh were to review the provisions in its Constitution regarding secularism. Bangabandhu, with dignity and firmness, replied that the special feeling Bangalis had for Saudi Arabia was because of their spiritual ties to the holy places in Mecca and Medina. The Constitution of the country, however, had been made by the people’s representatives who had included secularism as a principle of the Constitution. Secularism, as embodied in the Bangladesh Constitution, should not be misunderstood: it did not connote hostility to religion, but as was clearly defined in the text of the Constitution, it stood for religious tolerance and was intended to guard against the abuse of religion for political purposes. The overwhelming majority of the people of Bangladesh were, and would continue to be, devout Muslims who valued close relations with Saudi Arabia because of their historical and spiritual associations. What material support Saudi Arabia could extend to them was a matter quite apart from this and, while welcome, it should not be sought to be related to changes in the Constitution of Bangladesh. Bangalis would, in any event, come for pilgrimage to the holy places in Mecca and Medina, and would continue to hold King Feisal in high esteem. On this note, the meeting concluded with King Feisal observing that, of course, Mecca and Medina belonged to all Muslims, and Bangalis would be free to come for pilgrimage as much as Muslims from any other parts of the world. To those present, including myself, this encounter between the head of one of the richest states in the world and the head of one of the poorest (in terms of per capita income) was remarkable for the manner in which the latter had brought home to the former that a state, however poor, could still uphold its independence and dignity.
In January 1974, the former president, Justice Abu Sayeed Chowdhury (who had, in the meantime accepted the post of ambassador of Bangladesh in Geneva with the rank of a Cabinet minister) was sent as Sheikh Mujib’s special envoy to King Feisal to explain Bangladesh’s position on its participation in the forthcoming Islamic Summit in Lahore. Our position was basically that Bangladesh
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would like to associate itself with other participants in declaring support for the Palestinian cause in the Middle East but, in the absence of recognition by Pakistan, Bangladesh would not be able to attend a conference held in Lahore. The special envoy reported back that he had received a sympathetic hearing. Following diplomatic activity and Pakistan’s recognition, Bangladesh participated in the Islamic Summit. This, in turn, was followed by recognition by all the Muslim states that had not yet done so, with the sole exception of Saudi Arabia
In June 1974, in the course of the meetings with the foreign ministers of Muslim countries in Kuala Lumpur, Omar Sakkaf, the Saudi state minister for foreign affairs held a separate meeting with me. He shared my view that the absence of diplomatic relations between Bangladesh and Saudi Arabia was an anomaly, the more so after recognition by all the Muslim states, including Pakistan. He went on to explain that the process was inhibited by the view that King Feisal had taken on ‘secularism’, but immediately added that he quite appreciated the Bangladesh position about the sanctity of its Constitution. He reassured me that both of us should work together to overcome this impediment, and said that one must persevere in one’s efforts to make the king change his stand. He proposed that I go to Saudi Arabia and using ‘powers of persuasion’ on King Feisal. He suggested that October would be a good time and that he would arrange such a meeting. True to his word, Omar Sakkaf, at his first meeting with me in New York in September 1974, during a reception hosted by the foreign minister of Bahrain, recalled our discussions in Kuala Lumpur and said that he would like me to visit Saudi Arabia in October when he could coordinate efforts to overcome what he said was ‘a common problem’. Tragically, Omar Sakkaf died a few weeks later from a stroke suffered in the hall of the UN General Assembly. In our meetings, he had impressed me with his forthrightness and candour, as well as his mature understanding. Had he lived, the process of formalisation of relations might have been further expedited. The course of action he had proposed was followed. I conveyed, through the Saudi mission in New York, a proposal for my visit to Riyadh as early as King Feisal would receive me.
I carried a personal message from Bangabandhu to Riyadh in late October/early November 1974, and was granted an audience with King Feisal. After the initial exchange of greetings, I recounted his
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discussions with Omar Sakkaf on the importance of removing the anomalies reflected in the absence of diplomatic relations between the two countries. When King Feisal, as anticipated raised the question about secularism, I took the opportunity to explain the background in which the provisions had been made in the Constitution. I pointed out that these should be understood in the context of the recent history of our countries in South Asia, where the dragging of religion into politics had led to unspeakable atrocities and untold human suffering. Pakistan, while describing itself as an Islamic state, had been responsible for actions over the years and in particular in 1971, that had brought Islam into disrepute and had destroyed the country. There should be no mistake that the Muslims of Bangladesh were no less devout than those of Pakistan: but, having experienced the hypocrisy and intolerance that resulted from the abuse of religion for political purposes, Bangladesh had decided to make provisions in its Constitution which would promote an environment free from religious intolerance. It was in keeping with the finest traditions of the Prophet of Islam (PBUH), to seek to create conditions in which religious minorities would feel secure, and citizens would not oppress each other in the name of religion. Bangladesh, with a Muslim majority, had a tradition of communal harmony and religious tolerance, in which other communities could also live in peace. I paused to submit that normally, I would not, when calling on a head of state, have embarked upon such a long account of the history of my country’s Constitution but it was because of the high esteem in which King Feisal was held and the fact that he had raised this question that I took this opportunity to explain the background in which Bangladesh had made certain provisions in its Constitution. The meeting extended for over an hour and, from the cordial note on which it concluded it was fair to assume that the king had formed a better understanding of the Bangladesh position. Indeed his adviser, Rashed Firaon, who had been present at the meeting, confirmed this to me as he saw me out, encouraging me to come back soon.
Before any further developments could take place, King Feisal was assassinated early in 1975. Since the funeral was held within twenty four hours, following the Wahabi custom, it had not been possible for Bangabandhu to fly out and attend the rites. Instead,
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immediate steps had been taken for me to carry a message of condolence to King Khalid. As the object of the visit was the delivering of a message of condolence, I had not expected that matters relating to mutual relations would be discussed. I, therefore, was struck by the fact that when I was received in audience by King Khalid, Crown Prince Fahd and the late King’s sons, Prince Saud (who had assumed responsibility for foreign affairs) and Prince Turki, as well as Sheikh Yamani, and Rashed Firaon, an adviser whom I remembered as always being by King Feisal’s side, were also present. I delivered the message of condolence and confined myself to expressions of sorrow at the loss of King Feisal, as was appropriate for the occasion. In reply, it was King Khalid who, after some formal remarks, proceeded to make observations that bore special significance. He observed that colonialism had left terrible legacies that were responsible for the problems in the Middle East and Palestine. It was colonialism that had left behind problems in South Asia, such as the creation of a state separated into two parts over a thousand miles apart. This gave me the opportunity to say how the conditions had contributed to the growth of disparities and injustice, and ultimately to a parting of ways. A sympathetic understanding of this position was manifest. The subject of mutual relations was then broached, whereupon King Khalid inquired if I would be attending the Islamic Foreign Ministers’ Conference in Jeddah, which was barely six weeks away. On my answering in the affirmative, it was indicated that this matter could be more fully discussed during that visit.
The Islamic Foreign Ministers’ Conference was held in July 1975. Immediately on arrival, I was informed that Prince Saud, the foreign minister, would call on me in the course of the day. A most cordial meeting was held during which, after reviewing international issues and matters that were to be on the Conference agenda, the subject of mutual relations was taken up. Prince Saud said that this visit provided a good opportunity for dealing with this outstanding matter. He suggested that I call on King Khalid, and that if I could stay on for an extra day after the conclusion of the Conference, formalities for the announcement of the establishment of relations could be worked out. I duly called on King Khalid who said that formal diplomatic relations could be established within a couple of
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months, and that I should, during the course of the present visit, sit with Prince Saud and settle the formalities (just as Prince Saud had earlier suggested). A special gesture made by the Saudi hosts towards Bangladesh at the Conference banquet did not pass unnoticed by other heads of delegations, who came up and commented on it to me. At the banquet, places at the head table were reserved for members of the Saudi Royal family, the Secretary General of the Islamic Conference, and the Secretary General of the Arab League. The only two leaders of delegation given a place at the head table were those from Bangladesh and the PLO. As events turned out, the Conference continued for an extra day. Prince Saud, who had presided over the Conference, immediately after the concluding session which ended late in the evening sought me out to say that it was a pity that, because the Conference had carried on for an extra day, the proposed bilateral meeting could not take place as he was leaving early the next morning for Egypt with King Khalid. He asked if I was going to Lima for the Non-Aligned Foreign Ministers’ Conference in the second half of August. On confirming that I was, Prince Saud suggested that I stop in Jeddah on the way, when we could meet and
out a formal announcement for the establishment of diplomatic relations.
But I was not to make that trip to Lima or Jeddah, since they were scheduled for the week after 15 August, the black day on which Bangabandhu was assassinated.
Chapter 12
Relations with India
Geography and history alike demand that a sound basis be laid for good relations with India. Geographically, Bangladesh comprises the delta of two major international rivers which flow through India, the Ganges and the Brahmaputra. Except for its southern coastal front on the Bay of Bengal, and a short common border with Myanmar, Bangladesh is surrounded on all sides by India, sharing with it a common border of over 3000 miles. This geography underlines the importance of co-operation and good neighbourly relations. At the same time, it is responsible for problems which arose in relation to the sharing of the waters of the common rivers and in the policing of common borders. Disparity in size and resources between neighbouring countries does create certain problems. In particular, the smaller neighbour often has a sense of vulnerability, as is true of Canada or Mexico in relation to the United States. It is best described as an attitude of ambivalence, ranging from a desire to have relations of friendship and co-operation to a sense of insecurity and fear of domination. The more powerful neighbour appears to be domineering and arrogant. It requires effort, on the part of both to overcome the problems in order to cultivate balanced relations.
Part of our history, and recently of our liberation war, bore witness to the massive support extended by the people of India and its government to Bangladesh’s liberation struggle. Indian soldiers, fighting together with the Mukti Bahini under a joint command, had shared moments of sorrow and success, had suffered pain and felt relief at the end of the war. There is no gainsaying that, on 16 December 1971, the Indian Army, as part of the Indo-Bangladesh allied force, was spontaneously welcomed as allies by the people of Bangladesh. There was a lingering negative legacy which stemmed from the circumstances in which partition had taken place.
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The emergence of Bangladesh opened up the vista of a new framework of relations between our two countries. Thus, our most recent history promised the possibility of a new pattern of relations – of cooperation and good neighbourly relations – replacing those of hostility and confrontation that formed part of the earlier history. The task that faced policy-makers, both in India and Bangladesh, was to realise this possibility. Despite the goodwill generated in the wake of 1971, this task was to be difficult and challenging.
In Bangladesh, the building of good neighbourly relations had to contend with a number of factors. The intensity of the nationalism from which Bangladesh was born was to make Bangalis, even those who had actively cooperated with India during the course of the liberation struggle, jealous of their newly-won independence. They were for good neighbourly relations and for cooperation, but these were to be strictly on the basis of respect for each other’s sovereignty. Every agreement and every scheme for cooperation had to be carefully assessed so that it could not be construed to be affording an undue advantage to India at the cost of Bangladesh. As the history of specific negotiations between 1971 and 1975 reviewed below will show, Bangladesh maintained in every case, that any ‘concession’ to be made should be by the larger neighbour – for example, in relation to settling the land boundary. It was argued that any concession made by the smaller neighbour would be seen as one extracted by the more powerful neighbour. This would be ascribed to an unacceptable exercise of pressure and be negatively projected. No one was more aware of the need to ensure that Bangladesh’s interests were duly taken into account than Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. No one was more jealous of safeguarding the sovereignty of Bangladesh in its relations with India than he. No greater travesty of the truth is possible than to allege, as his enemies at home and abroad have tended to do, that Bangabandhu and his government had subordinated the policies and interest of Bangladesh to those of India.
This propaganda became the stock-in-trade of forces which, for different reasons, opposed not only the government of Bangabandhu. but were opposed to the development of good relations between Bangladesh and India. These consisted mainly of the political forces that had sided with Pakistan during the liberation struggle, and viewed the emergence of Bangladesh as a defeat. These defeated forces, with not unlikely instigation and the support of external
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patrons, never missed an opportunity to spread false rumours, levelling charges of Indian ‘domination’ and ‘exploitation’, or compromise of national interest by Bangabandhu’s government – charges which, upon objective scrutiny, proved to be entirely unfounded. The ‘big lie’ technique was frequently used. An example of this was the persistent allegation about a secret pact with India, without any evidence of its existence having ever been produced.
These forces were to attain a considerable measure of success, not only due to sustained external support but because a worsening economic situation within Bangladesh provided conditions which could be effectively exploited by them. Bangladesh had started life with an economy disrupted by war and dislocated by the exodus of non-local owners and managers of industries. With no foreign exchange (since the entire foreign exchange reserves had been held by the erstwhile central government) and no food stocks, the spectre of famine loomed large. A severe drought in 1972, the floods of 1973 and 1974 and, above all, the devastating impact of global inflation, were to afflict the country with severe commodity shortages and spiralling inflation. The acute domestic scarcity encouraged crimes of black-marketing and smuggling, and public opinion could be powerfully aroused on these issues. These were to prove the most potent weapons, not only to those who were in opposition to the government but also to anti-Bangladesh forces which, defeated in 1971, had been lying low and biding their time. They seized the opportunity to not only assail the policies of the government, but the creation of Bangladesh itself. They projected ‘smuggling to India’ as the principle cause of the shortages, presented false explanations ascribing the economic difficulties to economic exploitation by India, and insinuated that pre-1971 price levels and supplies might have continued if only Pakistan had not been destroyed by “pro-India’ elements. Thus, they played upon the subconscious fears of the people, a legacy of the earlier history, to revive communal sentiments and to erode the good-neighbourly relations that were being developed with India.
On the Indian side, too, while there was a preponderance of those who favoured the development of a sound basis of good relations with Bangladesh based on respect for its sovereignty, there were some discernable elements who had not favoured the creation of a sovereign Bangladesh. They held the view that Indian interests
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would be better served by dealing with a united Pakistan. After December 1971, some of these elements began to act as a ‘Pakistan lobby’ in India.
The building of an enduring basis of good-neighbourly relations, given the past legacy of suspicion and even hostility born of communal discord, required a high degree of perseverance, patience, and sensitivity. The progress that was made must be credited to those on both sides whose actions reflected the possession, in abundant measure, of these qualities.
The handling of such matters as the surrender ceremony on 16 December 1971, the transfer of arms surrendered by the Pakistan forces, and later problems of water sharing from the Farakka barrage or of delimitation of maritime boundaries, showed signs of insensitivity, and were to provide ammunition to those looking for opportunities to undermine the development of positive relations between India and Bangladesh.
The establishment of a framework of good-neighbourly relations as part of an overall framework of such relations between all the countries of South Asia, was, and must remain, an overriding objective of the foreign policy of Bangladesh. The record from 1972 to 1975 will show the progress that was achieved towards the objectives, as well as the obstacles and setbacks that occurred. The major setbacks, particularly in the immediate wake of 15 August 1975, are attributable to the influence of forces, within and outside these countries, whose aim was to obstruct the establishment of good-neighbourly relations in the region. It is almost a truism to say that an essential precondition for such a framework of goodneighbourly relations is for committed political forces to act with wisdom. These are necessarily the democratic progressive forces which represent the broad mass of the people; the ascendancy of the elite with external patrons or the forces of communalism or militarism in one or more of these countries would undermine the prospect of peace and cooperation and push us towards conflict and convulsions.
Development of Relations with India
Bangabandhu’s first contact with the Indian leadership was during a brief stopover in Delhi en route to Dhaka from London on 10 January 1972. The occasion was used for an exchange of greetings and
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expressions of good will. The first opportunity for discussions arose when Bangabandhu visited Kolkata at the end of January. The visit was principally to express gratitude to the people of Kolkata. During that visit, there was a meeting between Bangabandhu and Prime Minister Indira Gandhi, at which certain basic points were agreed upon. These were reported back to the Cabinet by Sheikh Mujib on his return to Dhaka. First the Indian component of the Joint IndoBangladesh allied force, which was in Bangladesh would be withdrawn from the territory of Bangladesh before the end of March 1971 and, indeed, before Mrs. Gandhi’s proposed visit to Bangladesh. Secondly, only such persons as had crossed the border to seek refuge in India after 25 March 1971 would be repatriated; there was no question of any one who had emigrated or gone as a to India ‘refugee’ before that date seeking to return to Bangladesh. Thirdly, it had been agreed that vigilance would be exercised so that unscrupulous businessmen did not exploit the friendly relationship and use unfair practices in commercial relationships to the disadvantage of Bangladesh. This was one of the principal reasons why it was proposed that the bulk of the trade should be on a stateto-state basis, between the state trading corporations. The basic parameters of the relationship between a sovereign Bangladesh and India were just beginning to be defined.
Indo-Bangladesh Friendship Treaty of 1972
On 17 March 1972, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi came to Dhaka on her first visit. Meetings were held with Bangabandhu and the Cabinet. The visit concluded with a joint declaration and the signing of the Indo-Bangladesh Treaty of Friendship and Cooperation, on 19 March 1972. It defined the framework within which relations between the sovereign Bangladesh and India were to be developed. The Treaty reaffirmed, as did the Joint Declaration, the basic principles of mutual respect for each other’s sovereignty, equality, and non-interference in internal affairs as the fundamental basis of relations between the two countries. The Treaty, on analysis, will be seen to not only not contain any provision which in any way undermines the sovereignty of Bangladesh, but in fact confirms the basic principles on which relations were to be developed between the two countries – strictly on the basis of respect for each other’s sovereignty. Critics of the Treaty have yet to come up with any
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specific grounds for attacking it. They seek to rouse sentiments against it by making unspecified allegations that the Treaty has compromised the sovereignty of Bangladesh.
The principal provisions of the Treaty may be summarised as follows:
1. There would be lasting peace and friendship between the two countries, who would respect each other’s independence, sovereignty, and territorial integrity, and would refrain from interfering in each other’s affairs.
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2. Both countries condemned colonialism and racialism in all their forms and manifestations and would strive for their complete elimination.
3. India and Bangladesh would maintain regular contact with each other on major international problems affecting the interests of both states.
4. The two countries would strengthen all-round cooperation between them in the economic, scientific, and technical fields, and promote cultural cooperation.
5. Mutual cooperation would be developed in the fields of trade, transport, and communications, on the basis of the principles of equality, mutual benefit, and most-favoured nation treatment
6. Joint studies would be made, and joint action taken, in the fields of flood control, river basin development, and the development of hydro-electric power and irrigation.
7. Contact would be promoted in the fields of art, literature, education, culture, sport, and health.
8. Neither country would participate in any military alliance directed against the other.
9. The two countries would refrain from any aggression against the other, and would not allow the use of their territory for any act which might constitute a threat to the other’s security.
10. Neither country would give any assistance to any third party taking part in an armed conflict against the other.
It is difficult to spell out from these provisions any element which could be said to compromise Bangladesh’s sovereignty. This is evident not only from reading its provisions but from the fact that its critics, when challenged, began to take a different line, namely that there was some secret understanding or ‘secret pact’. The extent of the absurdity to which such elements could go was evident when after the coup of 15 August, the coup-makers were reported to have carried out searches in the Foreign Office to find the secret pact which, of course, did not exist. Nor, indeed, have any of the post-15 August regimes sought to terminate this Treaty.
The Joint Declaration contained a reaffirmation of the principles and positions on major international issues as well as matters of
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regional and bilateral concern. The principles and positions taken on international issues were those adopted by the non-aligned countries; there was never any question of Bangladesh being pressed to endorse purely ‘Indian’ positions.
The Joint Declaration also touched upon the main issues that were going to concern Bangladesh in the immediate months to come. First, there were issues which might be regarded as the legacies of 1971 – the problems of Bangalis stranded in Pakistan, of prisoners of war, and the trials of war criminals. The Joint Declaration clearly provided that trials would take place of those prisoners of war against whom there was evidence to show that they were responsible for committing crimes against humanity and international crimes.
Apart from dealing with the problems that were a legacy of 1971, such as those of Pakistani prisoners of war which are dealt with in the next chapter, and substantial support extended to Bangladesh’s reconstruction, the matters which were to engage Bangladesh and India in their mutual relations in the first three years were: settlement of the land boundaries; problem of sharing the waters of the Ganges in the context of the imminent completion of the Farakka Barrage; trade and economic cooperation; and the problem of delimitation of maritime boundaries which was thrust into prominence towards the end of 1974. The actual record of how Bangladesh viewed its interests and how it sought to secure them during the period before 15 August 1975, speaks for itself in dispelling all motivated propaganda that national sovereignty or national interests had not been adequately safeguarded by Sheikh Mujib and his government.
Land Boundary Demarcation Agreement of 16 May 1974
Following on from the conviction that nothing is more important for good-neighbourly relations than to have settled boundaries, a high priority was accorded to completing the process of demarcating the land boundary which had not been completed due to certain points having remained unresolved during the Pakistan period. In a number of the undemarcated areas, such as Belonia, Assalong, and in the Patheria hills, some quite major incidents involving engagements by border forces had taken place during the Pakistani period. Another outstanding issue related to the Berubari union, a part of which was to have been transferred to Pakistan under the Noon-Nehru and related agreements.
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Thus, boundary talks were just under way at the official level. Several rounds of the talks had resolved a number of outstanding issues, but three or four issues remained. These were left for consideration at a higher level. As it turned out, these were taken up at the level of the prime ministers when they met in May 1974.
The outstanding items related to Belonia, Assalong, the Patheria hills and to the problems of Berubari and Dahagram (together with Angarpota). The discussions on Belonia, Assalong and Patheria had become submerged in old maps and documents and elaborate legal and technical arguments, with each side taking firm positions. Discussions at the official level and review by the foreign ministers had not yielded more than a reiteration of positions. These items were then placed on the agenda of the prime ministers’ meeting. The Indian prime minister, Mrs. Gandhi, indicated that, since this was a matter of some importance, she would like to associate her senior Cabinet colleagues, the members of the Political Affairs Committee in these discussions. Accordingly, she was joined by Fakhruddin Ali Ahmed, Jagjivan Ram, Swaran Singh, and Yashwant Rao Chavan. As foreign minister, I was present at the meeting.
As the talks commenced, the officials were called in. They came with rolls upon rolls of maps, which were unfolded, and elaborate legal and technical points were presented by the officials of both sides. When they had finished, Bangabandhu took the initiative to say that the solution to these issues could never be achieved by the legal and technical arguments of experts, who could argue endlessly on these matters; what was required was a political approach. The overriding objective, which was to be kept in view, was to lay the basis of enduring good-neighbourly relations. He then went on to say that India was a vast country with a territory which extended from the Himalayas to Cape Comorin and from the Arabian Sea to the Bay of Bengal. Bangladesh was a ‘big’ country in terms of its population, but was endowed with territory of barely 55,000 square miles. ‘We do not even have a hill station … whereas you have Darjeeling, Shillong, Simla, and a host of others. Is it really befitting for you to quibble about a few square miles here and a few square miles there? Surely, where there is any ‘grey’ area, you should not grudge these to Bangladesh. So, I would suggest, with regard to the areas under discussion, that without going into fine points, you should, on the broad principle that Bangladesh is much smaller in terms of territory,
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resolve these issues in our favour. This is what we would expect from you as a good neighbour. Now why should I not, in fact, ask you also to cede to me one of your hill stations?’ While the last suggestion was made jocularly, the atmosphere created by the approach taken by Bangabandhu changed from one of ‘quibbling’ to one of cordiality where both sides, taking a ‘broad view’, proceeded to constructively cut through technicalities. In the end most of the points were resolved substantially in favour of Bangladesh.
On the question of the Berubari Union, which was considered together with Dahagram (and Angarpota), an equitable solution was worked out. There are few issues that have been more distorted by our opponents than the solution arrived at on Berubari. The actual position has only to be presented, as I did in Parliament, for it to be realised that not only was Bangladesh’s interest not sacrificed, but that it was secured most effectively by the agreement we reached. There is no doubt that, under the Noon-Nehru and related agreements, the southern half of the Berubari Union was to have been transferred to Pakistan: but what is not appreciated (or is suppressed) is that under these very agreements, all enclaves (pockets of territory pertaining to one state surrounded on all sides by territory of the other state) were to be absorbed by the state in which they were located. Under this latter provision, Dahagram and Angarpota enclaves, which together were larger in extent than the part of the Berubari Union (and its adjacent enclaves), were inhabited by Muslims who had always regarded themselves as part of Bangladesh (previously East Pakistan). Separated from Bangladesh territory by a strip of territory, not more than 178 meters in width, they were now to be linked to Bangladesh.
The position, therefore, was that if both sides stuck to the letter of the Noon-Nehru agreement, the part of Berubari Union and the adjacent enclaves which were largely inhabited by Hindus, who had been under Indian administrative control since 1947, would have to be transferred to Bangladesh; but at the same time, Dahagram and Angarpota enclaves, inhabited by Muslims who had all along considered themselves to be part of Bangladesh, would have to be handed over to India. It was not possible to insist that one part of the agreement, which called for the transfer of Berubari, should be implemented but that another part of the same agreement, which required Dahagram and Angarpota to be transferred to India, be
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ignored. It was to resolve this dilemma that the following equitable formula was agreed upon, in Clause 15 of Article 1 of the Agreement:
Berubari: India will retain the southern half of South Berubari Union No.12 and the adjacent enclaves, measuring an area of 2.64 square miles approximately, and in exchange Bangladesh will retain the Dahagram and Angarpota enclaves. India will lease in perpetuity to Bangladesh an area of 178 meters x 85 meters near ‘Tin Bigha’ to connect Dahagram with Panbari Mouza (P.S. Patgram) of Bangladesh.
Under this formula, Bangladesh ceded 2.64 square miles of territory to India, including part of Berubari and its adjacent enclaves, and got the Dahagram and Angarpota enclaves in exchange which, together, were greater in area than 2.64 square miles. Further, India had agreed to provide a strip of its own territory as a corridor to link Dahagram to Bangladesh. In this way, the humanitarian consideration of respecting the wishes of the inhabitants of both the areas was taken into account.
In presenting my report on this agreement to Parliament, I addressed the criticism and concerns of the opposition as expressed by the veteran leader, Ataur Rahman Khan, who thought national interest had been sacrificed by allowing India to retain Berubari. I put the question to them if they would, then, be ready to allow India to retain Dahagram and Angarpota, but found no one willing to support that position.
The Farakka Barrage
A problem which was to demand urgent attention of both governments was presented by the construction of a one and a quarter mile long barrage across the Ganges at a place called Farakka, eleven miles from the Bangladesh border. A feeder canal would conduct water from the barrage to the Bhagirathi (the name of the upper reaches of the Indian river Hooghly which flows past Kolkata). The effect of this would be that during the dry season (from November to April) water, which would otherwise not have flowed into the Bhagirathi but would have flowed into the Padma in Bangladesh, would be diverted to the Bhagirathi.
There was a history of objections to this project since the Pakistan days. It was apprehended that the diversion of water during the dry season would create a shortage of water for irrigation in what was then East Bengal. Other possible adverse effects would include
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damage to agriculture, obstructions to navigation, incursion of salinity, and extensive environmental damage. In 1961, following such objections, India had agreed to postpone work on the project, and a series of meetings between water experts had been held between June 1960 and January 1962. Exchange of technical information had taken place, but all communications were suspended following the 1965 war. Official level talks had resumed in May 1968, and further meetings had taken place in December 1968, March and July 1969, and February and July 1970. In January 1971, there was an agreement to hold a ministerial level meeting, but this was overtaken by events. In the meantime, work on the barrage and the feeder canal had proceeded.
I recall that, towards the end of 1970, a high-level World Bank mission had called on Bangabandhu while visiting Dhaka, and also met me, to indicate that the World Bank would be willing to mobilise support for any plan for the development of water resources of common rivers in the region, provided an agreed plan was presented by the countries concerned.
Immediately after liberation, this matter was to receive increasing attention. The formal announcement of the decision, to establish a Joint Rivers Commission, was made on 9 April 1972. Its terms of reference would enable an exchange of data to take place, joint studies made, and plans formulated for flood control and irrigation projects and for the utilisation of water resources on an equitable basis for the benefit of the peoples of the two countries. It had been hoped that, in the context of the friendly relations established between Bangladesh and India, the Commission would provide a framework for cooperative solutions. The problems presented by the Farakka Barrage were to test the effectiveness of the Commission.
The subject of Farakka had featured in talks held in New Delhi at the end of April 1972 between Khandaker Mushtaque Ahmed, who was then minister for flood control, water and power resources, and his Indian counterpart, Dr. K. L. Rao. When I first became involved with the negotiations relating to the Farakka issue in 1973, I came to learn that, till that time, the Commission had refrained from taking up issues relating to the Farakka Barrage, and had been holding discussions on problems relating to other rivers. As the Joint Rivers Commission had not put Farakka on its agenda, no joint study or joint recommendation could be expected from it. As no agreement
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had been reached on the problem of sharing Ganges water at the ministerial level, Khandaker Mushtaque reported back that he had indicated that this matter be referred for discussion, and be settled, at the level of the two prime ministers.
The matter was, accordingly, put on to the agenda for the meeting of the prime ministers to be held in May 1974. From the discussions which took place during that meeting, both at the level of ministers representing both sides as well as the prime ministers, it was clear that, given the greatly reduced flow and availability of waters in the dry season, it would not meet the full demand of both sides. While no sharing formula could be agreed upon at this meeting, Bangladesh secured a significant commitment from India, namely that they would arrive at ‘a mutually acceptable allocation of the water available during the periods of minimum flow in the Ganges’ before the Farakka project was commissioned at the end of 1974. It was on the basis of this commitment that Bangladesh was able to succeed in maintaining the position that the Farakka Barrage could not be commissioned until, as a condition precedent, a mutually acceptable allocation of water available during the period of minimum flow was first agreed on. In the meantime, it was agreed that the Joint Rivers Commission should undertake the examination of the implications and effects of the Farakka Barrage, and come up with a joint recommendation. At a meeting of the planning commissions of the two countries, which took place shortly thereafter, both countries reaffirmed their desire to work towards evolving plans for the augmentation of flows, so that availability of water in the dry season could be significantly increased. Both sides recognised that an enduring long-term solution be found could only through substantial augmentation.
While the task of evolving such a plan for the augmentation of flow was to be pursued by the experts, the problem of arriving at an interim agreement to deal with sharing of waters acquired urgency as the project approached the stage where it was ready to be commissioned. There were urgent messages in early 1975, intimating that the barrage was ready to be commissioned. Bangladesh conveyed to India that such commissioning could not take place without first reaching an agreement on a mutually acceptable sharing of waters during the dry season, and indicated that it was ready for talks on the matter.
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Following a series of consultations, a meeting of the water ministers of the two countries was held on 18 April. Bangladesh’s position was that there should be no unilateral withdrawal from the Ganges and diversion to the Bhagirathi, since any withdrawal at all during the dry season would diminish the flow into the Padma. The withdrawal should be on the basis of an agreement which should provide for the minimum possible withdrawals in order to study its effects, and only allow any increase on the basis of review made after joint observation of the effects of such withdrawal. Joint teams would, at agreed points, including at Farakka, observe the withdrawal and their effects and report back. The formula would be reviewed on the basis of these reports. While this would provide the approach for dealing with the problem of allocation in the short-term, all efforts should be made to evolve a plan for augmentation of flows in the long-term.
The agreement concluded on that basis was that India would withdraw the following amounts in April and May: 21-30 April, 11,000 cusecs (cubic feet of water per second); 1-10 May, 12,000 cusecs; 11-20 May, 15,000 cusecs; 21-31 May, 16,000 cusecs. Joint teams of experts would observe the effects of the withdrawals at Farakka, in Bangladesh, and on the Hooghly river, and would report to both the governments. The sharing formula would be subject to review, by mutual agreement, on the basis of the reports.
That this agreement had effectively safeguarded the interests of Bangladesh is evident from the fact that the Ittefaq – an influential Bangali daily which, during that period was taking a line consistently critical of the Indian position – hailed the agreement as a ‘victory’ for Bangladesh; also from the fact that the quantities which India was allowed to withdraw under the agreement were less than what Pakistan had proposed to it in 1968. For a long-term solution, agreement is yet to be reached on a plan for the augmentation of water available during the lean months. Since there is substantial excess supply in the non-lean months, augmentation could be possible by storing water in reservoirs during the wet periods and releasing them in the lean season. Alternative concepts were also canvassed. The imperative need remains the development of water resources, within a framework of cooperation, which would augment the total availability of water in the lean season.
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Maritime Boundary Delimitation
The delimitation of the maritime boundary between Bangladesh and India was to be the subject-matter of intensive ne otiations, extending from the end of 1974 into 1975. Bangladesh had decided to define its maritime limits, and the base-points by reference to which these would be drawn, as a preparatory step to considering proposals for petroleum exploration in its continental shelf. Bangladesh published its base-points in the Bangladesh Gazette early in 1974. It also asserted its sovereign rights over its continental shelf, and jurisdiction over an exclusive economic zone extending to a width of 200 miles from its coastal base-line.
The concept of an exclusive economic zone had been put forward by a number of developing countries, and had received the support of the Non-Aligned states in the declaration adopted at the NonAligned Summit in Algeria in September 1973. Bangladesh took the view that there was an adequate juridical basis for it to assert jurisdiction over its exclusive economic zone and, accordingly, it became the first country in South Asia to formally declare such a claim. Its view was vindicated by the near-universal acceptance of this concept. India and Pakistan were to make their declarations some time after Bangladesh had done so.
The Bangladesh delegation to the Law of the Sea Conference, which held its inaugural session later that year in Caracas, presented a detailed statement of the Bangladesh position. Informal consultations had taken place between the members of the Bangladesh delegation and the Indian delegation, and the impression was gathered that there would be no problem in arriving at an agreed delimitation of the maritime boundary.
There was some surprise when, a month or two later, a formal note was presented by India indicating that they objected to the approach adopted by Bangladesh in defining its maritime limits. There was a feeling on the Bangladesh side that, given the good relations that existed between the two countries, the Indian approach of raising this matter by a diplomatic note was rather formal and inappropriate. In any event, Bangladesh replied to the note, stating its position and indicating that if there was any point that needed clarification, or if any issue was to be resolved, official level talks should be held expeditiously to deal with the matter. The matter acquired some urgency as both India and Bangladesh had signed
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contracts with oil companies for petroleum exploration in the Bay of Bengal.
The first round of talks was held in December 1974. India took the position that the equidistance method was appropriate for defining the boundary line. It was defining this line by reference to a tiny ‘islet’ which substantially deflected the line to cut into a part of the shelf which, according to Bangladesh, was part of its continental shelf. Bangladesh based its stand on the judgment of the International Court of Justice in the North Sea Continental Shelf case, which had held that where, because of geographical or other factors, the mechanical application of the equidistance method led to inequitable results, then parties should seek an equitable delimitation through bonafide negotiations taking all relevant circumstances into account. In such cases, the adoption of the equidistance method was not appropriate. Bangladesh objected to the ‘isleť being treated as was being done, and also urged that the ‘Swatch of No Ground’ represented a feature of particular significance to be taken into account for the delimitation of the continental shelf boundary.
Prolonged negotiations took place between the two sides. Several rounds of official level talks were followed by two rounds at the ministerial level. Each side, armed with elaborately prepared briefs, engaged in strenuous negotiations. Grappling with a problem of this nature through negotiations is the appropriate way for neighbours to resolve such questions. Since submarine petroleum and mineral resources have gained importance, the delimitation of maritime boundaries is a matter which requires serious negotiation among states. Indeed, many friendly neighbouring countries have had to engage in such negotiations, and even to refer the matter to arbitration, as was done by the United Kingdom and France when they were not able to settle an agreed maritime boundary off the Channel Islands.
Progress was being made in the negotiations at the ministerial level, and the areas of disagreement were being narrowed down. This, however, still remains an outstanding matter which awaits an equitable solution through negotiation/arbitration.
Trade and Economic Cooperation
Mutually beneficial economic relations are a legitimate objective for neighbouring countries to pursue. Proximity provides certain obvious advantages, in terms of savings in transport time and cost. In
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the case of Bangladesh, India held out positive prospects as a source for procuring necessary imports, as well as a market for some of its exports. Trade between two sovereign neighbours could only be based upon perceptions of mutual benefit. There was to be no question of one subordinating itself to the interests of the other. The same principle was to apply to investments as well as to trade. There was never any question of Bangladesh laying itself open to Indian economic domination or exploitation.
Both sides were conscious of opponents of Indo-Bangladesh friendship seeking to create ill will through the misrepresentation of their mutual economic relations. Therefore, particular care was taken from the outset to prevent any type of transaction or economic relations which could be so assailed. As early as January 1972, when the two prime ministers had met in Kolkata, they had agreed that Bangladesh would not be accessible to traditional private traders. The bulk of trade would be between the state trading corporations of the two countries. Since the greater part of the industries in Bangladesh were taken into the public sector, there was no scope at the time for Indian capital to penetrate into the Bangladesh economy through investment.
To promote trade, a one-year trade agreement had been concluded on 28 March 1972. The agreement would be subject to review after six months. It provided for trade in goods of special interest to the two countries on a balanced basis up to the value of Rs. 25 crores (Rs. 250,00,000) in either direction; imports and exports by either country in excess of this figure would be on payment of free foreign exchange; and, each country would accord most favourednation treatment to the other’s commerce. A provision was also made with regard to ‘border trade’, to the effect that trade in perishable commodities and articles of daily use among people living within 16 kilometres of the border would be free of customs and currency regulations. Since this provision came under attack as providing a cover for smuggling, both governments agreed to terminate this arrangement at the end of a year.
The experience in the field of trade was that Bangladesh’s imports from India vastly exceeded its exports. Since payments, under the trade agreement, did not have to be made until accounts were settled annually this, in effect meant that Bangladesh enjoyed the benefit of credit for that period. The only way for balance to be reached was for Bangladesh to export more.
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The principal expedient for expanding exports substantially was for new items of export to be developed. This was the concept underlying the economic cooperation agreement concluded in May 1974, under which a sponge iron plant and a fertilizer plant would be established in Bangladesh with Indian support. Bangladesh gas would be a critical input in both these plants, and Bangladesh would have a guaranteed market in India for the product from these plants. If implemented, these plants could have made a significant structural change in the trade between Bangladesh and India, but the plans were suspended after 15 August 1975.
The positive possibilities of economic cooperation have been impeded by the creation of an atmosphere of ill will, relating to economic relations with India, by certain sections who have used every possible pretext to assail such relations as subjecting Bangladesh to Indian domination. The issue of smuggling had been raised to a level where it tended to obscure every other aspect of mutual economic relations. It is from such attitudes and lack of perspective that the subject of Indo-Bangladesh economic relations must be liberated. This done, concerted efforts to promote economic cooperation on the basis of mutual benefit would merit the attention it deserves on both sides.
Chapter 13
Relations with Pakistan
Our basic position vis-á-vis Pakistan was defined within the first hours of Bangabandhu’s return to Bangladesh. In the mammoth public meeting he addressed immediately on our arrival in Dhaka on 10 January 1972, apart from repeating his invitation to the world to accord recognition to the sovereign, independent state of Bangladesh, Bangabandhu gave a clear and categorical response to Bhutto’s appeal to retain ‘links’. He declared that, after the scale of atrocities perpetrated by the Pakistan Army over the nine months, there could be no possibility of any relationship between Bangladesh and Pakistan other than as between two sovereign states; relations between the two could only be on the basis of recognition and respect for each other’s sovereignty. He wished the people of Pakistan well and hoped that friendly relations would be developed over time.
We were faced with urgent problems resulting from the liberation war. Several hundred thousand Bangalis were stranded in Pakistan. The presence in Bangladesh of several hundred thousand nonBangalis – commonly referred to as Biharis – presented a special problem as many of them wanted to be repatriated to Pakistan. The broad description of ‘Bihari’ embraced non-Bangali persons, most of whom had migrated from different parts of India to East Bengal after the partition of India. There were those who continued to regard themselves as Pakistanis; some had collaborated with the Pakistan Army. Then again, over 90,000 Pakistani prisoners of war had been taken into the joint custody of Bangladesh and India. The violent process through which independence had taken place had left Pakistan in control of the bulk of the common assets of the central government – gold and foreign exchange reserves, planes, ships, defence equipment, and real estate including embassy buildings
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overseas. The resettlement of these populations and the apportionment of assets was high on the agenda of outstanding problems which called for solutions.
Pakistan had yet to accord recognition to Bangladesh. Instead of doing so, it was actively pressing a number of Middle Eastern and Arab countries (and some African countries, such as Nigeria), to defer recognition until after Pakistan did so. This appeal from Pakistan had the effect of slowing down or delaying recognition of Bangladesh by the countries of the Middle East and the Arab countries. Pakistan maintained the position that there should be a meeting with Bangladesh before Pakistan would accord recognition, which directly came into conflict with the Bangladesh position of a meeting following recognition. Following the Chinese veto on Bangladesh’s application for UN membership in the Security Council in August 1972, Pakistan’s attitude seemed to become more negative on the issue of recognition.
The persistence of this negative attitude continued to impede any direct meetings or negotiations between Bangladesh and Pakistan. Problems remained after the conflict which continued to be unresolved: in particular, humanitarian problems of the stranded Bangalis in Pakistan; the non-Bangalis in Bangladesh who had opted to go to Pakistan; the prisoners of war; and the division of assets. An opportunity was presented to secure recognition when Pakistan was seeking the return of territories it had lost in the western sector during the war, and also of its prisoners of war who were in Indian custody. A meeting was proposed at the prime ministers’ level. Bangladesh had insisted that it could not participate in any meeting with Pakistan without recognition. Instead of using the negotiating advantage at this time – to defer such a meeting until recognition was extended, since it was clear that there could be no agreement on the issue of the prisoners of war without Bangladesh’s participation and agreement – a bilateral meeting was arranged between India and Pakistan in 1972 at which the Simla Agreement was signed on 12 July. It was made clear to Pakistan that the issue of the POWs and other matters concerning Bangladesh would be kept pending. India assured Bangladesh that it would keep us informed of the progress on negotiations on a daily basis.
In Bangladesh, various initiatives began to be considered. Just before 16 December 1972, when Victory Day was to be celebrated and
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Bangabandhu was to deliver a major policy speech, I was asked to attend a meeting with Foreign Minister Abdus Samad Azad to discuss the subject of the Pakistani prisoners of war. Bangabandhu thought that an important political initiative could be taken by Bangladesh by announcing that Bangladesh would try some 200 prisoners of war for war crimes and that the rest of the prisoners of war, who were in custody in India, could be repatriated. Since the law ministry was responsible for making arrangements for the prosecution of war criminals, and I was in charge of the ministry,1 I was asked to provide a list of 200 against whom clear evidence of the commission of war crimes existed. It was indicated that these 200 persons should include persons who may be regarded as ‘major war criminals’. I, accordingly, asked the chief prosecutors to prepare such a list on the basis of the evidence which had been collected so far. Such a list was compiled and handed over to the foreign minister within a few days.
This list was handed over to the Indian High Commissioner for transmission to the Government of India. By this time it was 14 December 1972. India replied that the particular proposal had not left them enough time to make a response by 16 December. A reply from India before 16 December would have enabled Bangabandhu to make a public announcement at the Victory Day meeting. But given the constraints of time, a reply could not be received in time and this matter remained outstanding as the new year approached.
I was designated foreign minister in the new Cabinet formed after the Parliamentary elections in 1973. A review of Bangladesh’s foreign policy was undertaken immediately; issues under the broad heading of normalisation of relations in South Asia were among the first that called for attention. Among the outstanding matters we ide were: recognition of Bangladesh by Pakistan, repatriation of Bangalis stranded in Pakistan, return of the POWs, trial of war criminals, repatriation of non-Bangalis who wished to opt for Pakistan, and the apportionment of assets of the former central government.
After deliberations in the foreign ministry, I was of the view that it was time, following the elections, for Bangladesh to take an initiative towards the resolution of these outstanding issues. The positive
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1 I was Minister of Law until March 1, 1973.
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character of Bangladesh’s foreign policy would be demonstrated by its constructive contribution towards the promotion of a new set of relationships in South Asia. Bangabandhu and the Cabinet fully approved of this approach.
Bangladesh, therefore, welcomed the suggestion that a special envoy might be sent to Bangladesh by the prime minister of India to review these issues. Thus, P. N. Haksar visited Dhaka as the special envoy of the prime minister of India at the end of March 1973. He indicated that India, for its part, was ready to see progress on all these issues and would welcome Bangladesh’s views on how best it thought these matters should be proceeded with. Bangladesh’s approach was that the issue of recognition of Bangladesh, though fundamental, need not stand in the way of it taking the initiative to provide an early solution to the outstanding humanitarian issues: repatriation of three groups of people – the Bangalis stranded in Pakistan, to Bangladesh; the prisoners of war; and the non-Bangalis in Bangladesh who considered themselves to be citizens of Pakistan,
akistan. The kind of ‘package’ which we considered could be put forward on behalf of Bangladesh and India was one which, while deprecating the delay in recognition, would nonetheless demonstrate ‘the positive approach’ of Bangladesh and India towards finding solutions to outstanding problems. The proposal would, therefore, indicate that, without prejudice to the issue of recognition and to the setting aside of about 200 prisoners of war for prosecution for the commission of war crimes, Bangladesh and India would jointly offer that the remainder of the prisoners of war could be repatriated to Pakistan, simultaneously with the repatriation to Bangladesh of all Bangalis stranded in Pakistan, and the repatriation (again simultaneously) of the non-Bangalis who opted to go to Pakistan. Recognition was, thus, delinked from the solution of humanitarian problems: also, the issue of trial of some of the prisoners of war would not stand in the way of the repatriation of the rest
Haksar agreed that this would represent a bold initiative and, as this was an entirely new proposal, he would return to New Delhi to brief Prime Minister Indira Gandhi. Further, he was of the view that this was a matter of such fundamental importance that it should be discussed at the level of foreign ministers, and that India would welcome the Bangladesh foreign minister’s visit to New Delhi for this
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purpose. Since Bangladesh had, after due deliberation and caution, decided to take the initiative in making progress in this matter, an early date was finalised for a visit. The visit took place at the end of the first week of April 1973. In the initial discussions with the foreign minister of India, Bangladesh put forward proposals along the lines that had been discussed earlier in Dhaka.
In the course of the discussions, some from the Indian side expressed reservations about the wisdom of making a unilateral joint declaration, as had been proposed by Bangladesh, since it would be counterproductive if Pakistan were to reject the proposed three-way repatriation. Pakistan had hitherto maintained that the repatriation of prisoners of war could not be linked to any other issue, and it was known to be opposed to accepting the non-Bangalis and even more strongly, to the holding of the war crimes trials. Thus, there was reason to apprehend a negative response. Was it prudent to take the risk of such an outcome? Would Bangladesh be seen as withdrawing its insistence on recognition as a precondition for settling outstanding issues? The alternative suggestion, from India, was that the proposal be informally conveyed at a meeting which was scheduled to be held in Islamabad in a few weeks, in order to sound out Pakistan’s reaction.
Our assessment was that the risk was worth taking. A bold initiative, such as our proposal for a Joint Declaration, would demonstrate a positive approach towards normalisation of relations in South Asia to the world, and could bring pressure to bear on the Government of Pakistan, from within and without. There were reports of considerable pressure from the families of the prisoners of war demanding early repatriation. So far, the Government of Pakistan had met this pressure by asserting that they were doing all they could, and it was the other side which was obstructing the repatriation. The Joint Declaration was a public commitment that there could now be no obstruction to the repatriation of the prisoners of war, other than the adoption of an unreasonable position by the Government of Pakistan, on such humanitarian issues as the Bangalis stranded in Pakistan and the acceptance of the non-Bangalis who had opted for Pakistan. In our view, the Pakistani campaign on the issue of the repatriation of the prisoners of war could be turned back upon them with the proposal made in the Joint Declaration.
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The differing assessments led to protracted discussions. The matter was carefully reappraised. Recollection of these events brings to mind the great qualities of a member of the Bangladesh delegation, whose death less than a year later left an irreparable void – Enayet Karim, who was then Bangladesh’s foreign secretary. His capacity for incisive analysis, his political sensitivity, and intense patriotism always assured wise counsel. After a reappraisal which continued throughout the night, the Bangladesh side decided to stand by its proposal. It was then suggested that this matter may be discussed with the Indian Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi. She was very direct and precise, and was in favour of a positive and constructive initiative. But what if Pakistan was to reject the proposal? Was it worth taking that risk? Would it not be better to get an informal sounding first? Arguments for and against this proposition were reviewed. At the end of the discussion, she agreed that, while there was a risk in making a unilateral declaration, it was, on balance, one worth taking. It was agreed that the joint declaration would be made simultaneously from Dhaka and New Delhi the following day.
The operative part of this Declaration, made on 17 April 1973 was as follows:
…. Without prejudice to the respective positions of the Government of India and the Government of the People’s Republic of Bangladesh, the two governments are ready to seek a solution to all humanitarian problems through simultaneous repatriation of Pakistani prisoners of war and civilian internees, except those required by the Government of the People’s Republic of Bangladesh for trial and criminal charges; repatriation of Bengalis forcibly detained in Pakistan; and repatriation of Pakistanis in Bangladesh, that is, all non-Bengalis who owe allegiance and have opted for repatriation to Pakistan ….
It was simultaneously announced that the number of prisoners who were to be prosecuted for grave crimes was 195.
It had been anticipated that the initial Pakistani response, a knee jerk reaction, would be negative. But it was assessed that this position could not be sustained long once pressure from outside and within Pakistan began to build up in support of the proposal. Bangladesh, therefore, launched a major diplomatic offensive, sending special envoys with messages to heads of governments in over 40 capitals. The reports of the special envoys, and replies received from heads of government, showed an overwhelmingly favourable response. Many
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of them congratulated Bangladesh on taking a constructive initiative, and agreed to do what they could to ‘press’ Pakistan to respond a positively. .
At the same time, Bangladesh proceeded to take concrete steps towards the holding of the war crimes trials. Special legislation to set up a war crimes tribunal was initiated in Parliament, and a constitutional amendment was enacted in this connection. While preparing this legislation, due account was taken of relevant developments in international law relating to war crimes, since Bangladesh was committed to hold these trials ‘in accordance with universally recognised juridical norms’. The draft legislation was discussed at a symposium convened by the Bangladesh Institute of Law and International Affairs in Dhaka, at which a number of distinguished international lawyers commented on the draft. Further views on the draft were elicited at a conference on international criminal law held in Bellagio, Italy. It was decided to invite eminent jurists as observers, many of whom had been informally approached and had conveyed their readiness to attend. Directions were issued to make physical arrangements in the Dhaka Cantonment, in conformity with the requirements of the Geneva Conventions, to house the prisoners. Such arrangements were duly completed. The Government of India was requested to arrange for the transfer of the concerned prisoners in batches. An initial list of some 20 was formally delivered to the Government of India sometime in late April or early May 1973.
The immediate Pakistani response was a threat to prosecute Bangalis detained in Pakistan. This was followed by nocturnal raids on their homes, starting on 6 May 1973, during which a large number of Bangali civil servants, including doctors and teachers, were picked up and moved to detention camps in the Punjab and the NorthWestern Frontier Province. Later, their families were interned with them.
On 11 May, Pakistan instituted a case in the International Court of Justice, invoking Article 6 of the Genocide Convention under which ‘persons charged with genocide (were to be) tried by a competent tribunal of the state in the territory of which the act was committed ….’ They urgently sought an interim order from the Court restraining India from transferring the prisoners required for trial by Bangladesh.
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We made a legal appraisal in Bangladesh and our view was that the Pakistani application to the Court was bound to fail, both on merit and on the ground that the Court did not have jurisdiction. The Indian government informed Bangladesh that they had received notice of proceedings and that they were examining the matter legally. They soon came back to say that, according to their own legal app praisal, the Court did not have the jurisdiction to entertain Pakistan’s application. Since jurisdiction was based on the consent of the parties, and since India had not consented, having made an express reservation regarding submission to the Court’s jurisdiction when adhering to the Convention, India would not even appear before the Court. A substantial written memorandum would be submitted to the Court, setting out reasons supporting their contention. The Indian government, however, expressed the view that, as a matter of respect to the Court, it would be advisable not to transfer the prisoners till the Court had disposed of the Pakistani application for an interim order. On 13 July 1973, the Court rejected the Pakistani application and directed that the jurisdictional issue be heard first. A date was fixed for this purpose in October, and was later extended to December. In July, Bangladesh renewed its request for the transfer of the prisoners of war.
Pakistan, which until then had been dragging its feet about starting talks pursuant to the Joint Declaration, was quick to propose that such talks should start soon. It was agreed that talks would start on 24 July in Islamabad, on the basis of the Joint Declaration. The transfer of prisoners was kept in suspense pending the conclusion of the talks.
The conduct of the negotiations was made more difficult by the fact that Pakistan had yet to recognise Bangladesh. We continued to maintain that we would not directly negotiate with Pakistan in the absence of formal recognition by the latter. At the same time, no substantive agreement could be reached on any of the basic issues without the prior concurrence of Bangladesh. This meant constant reporting of the progress of negotiations and reference back for instructions to Bangladesh. As if this was not difficult enough, the problem was compounded by the fact that the prime minister of Bangladesh and I, along with relevant officials, were to be away from Dhaka during this period, on a state visit to Yugoslavia to be followed by participation in the Commonwealth Heads of Government
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meeting in Ottawa. Communications had to be maintained, and were in fact maintained with the negotiators through an almost daily exchange of cipher telegrams.
Early reports from Islamabad indicated strong resistance by the Government of Pakistan to acceptance of non-Bangalis who had opted for Pakistan, and to the holding of the war crimes trials. After protracted negotiations, the Pakistanis indicated the possibility of accepting a small number of non-Bangalis, a few thousand. Since the estimated number of non-Bangalis who had opted for Pakistan was over 650,000, the gap between the Joint Declaration proposal and the Pakistani position was still very wide. On top of that, the Pakistanis took the position that if Bangladesh proceeded to hold war crime trials, Pakistan would prosecute 203 Bangalis on various charges. When this report reached the Bangladesh delegation, which was then on the island of Brioni (former Yugoslavia) as President Tito’s guests, it appeared that the talks were leading to an impasse. There was also a sense of outrage at the crude attempt to equate innocent Bangalis who had been stranded in Pakistan with war criminals who, to the knowledge of the world, had committed grave war crimes and crimes against humanity. Clear instructions were immediately despatched to say that if such a threat to prosecute even a single Bangali was repeated, the talks should be terminated. The talks were then adjourned, with the understanding that these could be resumed.
P. N. Haksar, the prime minister of India’s special envoy, came to Dhaka to report on the talks, and for consultations, from 16-17 August 1973. He reported that Pakistan was unyielding on accepting an indeterminate number of non-Bangalis, many of whom, according to them, may not even wish to go to Pakistan. A simple answer to this Pakistani position, it was suggested by us, was to propose that an international machinery be set up to ascertain the wishes of the persons concerned. This would ensure that only those who freely affirmed their allegiance to Pakistan and exercised their option to go there would have to be accepted by Pakistan. It would also limit the numbers to those who were ‘verified’ by an international agency.
Haksar indicated that the Pakistanis were likely to accept an agreed limited number. A fixing of any number, however, could not but be arbitrary, and seemed a particularly inappropriate and insensitive way of dealing with a humanitarian problem. It was, therefore, felt that the proposal for limiting members by reference to
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a verification process by an international agency would be the principled basis, and this is what should be pressed for. The other issue on which Pakistan was resistant was that of holding the war crimes trials, albeit of only 195 prisoners. They threatened to try 203 Bangalis by way of reprisal. They further argued that they could not concede the holding of a war crimes trial as it would be politically intolerable. It was more or less suggested that the Pakistan Army would not permit the government to be seen to‘agree to the holding of such trials. Bangladesh had already represented, in the strongest terms, its revulsion to the idea of a trial of 203 Bangalis, or even one single Bangali. As regards the trial of war criminals, Bangladesh reiterated that it had been magnanimous in limiting these trials to only 195 persons, and this position must be maintained.
The talks were resumed in New Delhi on 18 August. The first four or five days were spent in a reiteration of the respective positions; the talks appeared, inexorably, to be leading to an impasse. The Pakistani officials stuck to the position that they could only accept a maximum specified number of non-Bangalis, and were totally opposed to the holding of a war crimes’ trial. A formula which could break the impasse on the ‘numbers’ question then began to emerge. The formula was that a specified number would be accepted in the first phase, and that talks would be held later to decide a further additional at would be accepted by Pakistan. Bangladesh apprehended that Pakistan might go back on the undertaking to take on additional numbers once they had their prisoners back (which regrettably is precisely what they did). In the interest, however, of making progress towards the solution of the humanitarian problems, this formula was accepted by Bangladesh – with Pakistan’s agreement to accept a ‘substantial number’ in the first phase. The ‘substantial number’ was defined in a separate document as all persons belonging to certain specified categories: persons domiciled in the western wing, central government employees and their families, and divided families – 25,000 ‘hardship’ cases.
The question of the war crimes trial persisted. Pakistan again raised the threat of trying 203 Bangalis. When Bangladesh was informed, we reiterated, in no uncertain terms, that even if the threat to try a single Bangali was held out in this way, there would be no further talks and no agreement. The Pakistan foreign secretary, Agha Shahi, flew to Islamabad on 24 August and returned the next day with
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‘comprehensive instructions’. The talks resumed with a discussion on a formula for the trials, under which the trials would be kept in abeyance till the process of three way repatriation was completed. The subject would then be taken up for discussion at a tripartite meeting, after Bangladesh had been duly recognised by Pakistan. Aziz Ahmed, the leader of the Pakistani delegation, sought a meeting with the prime minister of India. At that meeting, on 16 August, he pressed for renouncing the war crimes trials by submitting that the prime minister of Pakistan would face insuperable political difficulty in accepting an agreement which left the question of a war crimes trial open. The Indian prime minister replied that each party had its own political difficulties, and it was for each of them to face them as best they could. No change in the position could, thus, be secured through her intervention. On 28 August, the Delhi agreement on three way repatriation was signed. Its principal provisions were: a) All Bangalis in Pakistan (including the 203 against whom the threat of prosecution had been held out) would be repatriated as quickly as possible; b) All Pakistani prisoners of war would be repatriated simultaneously; c) Pakistan would accept a substantial number of non-Bangalis in the first phase (with an understanding about the magnitude of the ‘substantial number’), and would later settle, through discussion with Bangladesh an additional number that could be received by Pakistan; d) The 195 prisoners charged with war crimes would remain in India and would not be brought to trial during the period of the repatriation, and that this matter was to be discussed at a tripartite meeting between Bangladesh, India, and Pakistan. It was emphasised that any meeting between Bangladesh and Pakistan could only take place on the basis of sovereign equality, that is, after recognition.
The agreement was universally welcomed as having broken the stalemate and achieved a constructive solution to urgent humanitarian problems. It was seen as a major step towards normalisation of relations in South Asia. Not only had Bangladesh taken the original initiative to put forward the proposals in the Joint Declaration of April 1973, but had made generous concessions to make the
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agreement possible. It had, in the Joint Declaration itself, set aside the question of recognition as a precondition for the solution of humanitarian problems. It had agreed to the proposal to allow Pakistan to receive the non-Bangalis who had opted for Pakistan in phases and to limit the number to be taken in the first phase. It had also agreed to hold the war crimes trial in abeyance till the repatriation process was completed.
Appeals were made to the United Nations for assistance with transport. The Secretary General made appeals to member countries, and requested the UN High Commissioner for Refugees, to undertake the task of making the necessary logistical arrangements. The International Red Cross was requested to undertake registration of the non-Bangalis who were desirous of going to Pakistan. The lists prepared by the International Red Cross were to be sent to Pakistan ‘for clearance’. This clearance procedure was to prove to be a source of obstruction and delay. During the period from September 1973 to April 1974, there were occasions when planes coming with a full load of Bangalis from Pakistan went back half-empty or in some nearly totally empty, because the Pakistan Government had not accorded ‘clearance to the thousands of non-Bangalis who were in camps, waiting to be transported to Pakistan. This meant that valuable transport facilities were allowed to go unutilised while people ready, willing, and entitled to go to Pakistan were unable to utilise them. Reported representations had to be made by the Government of Bangladesh to the Pakistan government, through the Swiss government and the International Red Cross. Such representations and pressure brought only temporary improvement, since the clearance procedure continued to remain a major impediment.
Despite such obstructions and delays, Bangladesh persevered in carrying out the implementation of the three-way repatriation agreement. The result of under-utilisation of aircraft space on return journeys to Pakistan was that when all the Bangalis were brought over, there were still non-Bangalis waiting to be carried to Pakistan. At that stage, there were over 20,000 cleared’ non-Bangalis who were stranded for lack of transport. Under the agreement, the responsibility for arranging transport for the non-Bangalis who were to go to Pakistan was that of Pakistan, while that of bringing back the Bangalis was that of the Government of Bangladesh. The repatriation
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of the Bangalis was completed by April 1974. The transport of nonBangalis, even these who were cleared, remained suspended. This matter was to be taken up in the Tripartite Talks in New Delhi in April 1974, when the issue of the additional number to be transported was also to be discussed. The return of the Pakistani prisoners of war was completed in May 1974.
As the process of repatriation got underway, the impression of the international community was that a major obstacle to normalisation of relations between the three countries had been removed. The issues that remained outstanding from the Bangladesh side were: recognition, division of assets (and liabilities), and the acceptance of the remaining non-Bangalis who had opted for Pakistan. Pakistan’s principal remaining concern appeared to be the trial of the war criminals. Pakistan sought to link recognition to the issue of war crimes trials. Messages began to be conveyed that if Bangladesh were to give up the trials, recognition would be forthcoming. Pakistan also sought to use the issue of UN membership by hinting that if the war crimes trials were to be given up, this would facilitate membership clearly suggesting that it was at Pakistan’s behest that the Chinese might obstruct renewed application for membership. Bangladesh refused to countenance such attempts at ‘horse-trading’.
By September 1973, Bangladesh had already been recognised by more than 100 states. The Non-Aligned Conference had adopted a resolution in September 1973 supporting Bangladesh’s immediate admission to the UN. There was no question of Bangladesh needing or accepting Pakistan’s intercession either with regard to recognition or UN membership. Indeed, the Pakistani initiative to host the Islamic Summit in Lahore in early 1974 provided Bangladesh with an opportunity to mount pressure on Pakistan to accord recognition.
An invitation was extended to Bangladesh to participate in the Islamic Summit through its Secretary General, Dr. Hassan al Tohamy, who visited Dhaka personally to convey the invitation. Bangladesh wished to associate itself with this collective effort to consolidate support for the Palestinian cause. The proposed venue being in Lahore presented a problem. In the absence of recognition, it would mean that Bangladesh’s Head of Government would arrive in Lahore while Pakistan still formally treated Bangladesh as one of its provinces. This was totally unacceptable. On the other hand, failure to participate would be exploited by Pakistan. It would provide
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ammunition to feed the false propaganda that it had persistently directed against Bangladesh, in particular in the Muslim countries, to the effect that Bangladesh was subject to Indian interference and restrained in conducting its foreign relations by India. The conference could also be used to adopt resolutions prejudicial to Bangladesh.
Therefore, it was decided to take the offensive. Bangladesh would go to the Arab states to put its case directly at Head of Government level as follows: Bangladesh fully supported the Palestinian cause and wished to join the Islamic Summit which was being convened to consolidate support for that cause. The only obstacle that stood in the
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way was Pakistan’s failure to accord recognition to Bangladesh. How could Bangladesh’s Head of Government attend a conference in Lahore, while Pakistan formally took the position that Bangladesh was one of its provinces?
I carried personal messages from Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman to five capitals within a period of fifteen days, and had personal meetings with President Boumedienne of Algeria, President
fi of Libva. President Bakr of Irag, and King Hossein of Jordan: I also held discussions in Kuwait. Justice Abu Sayeed Chowdhury, who had relinquished the presidency at the end of December, was entrusted with similar messages as a special envoy to King Feisal of Saudi Arabia, President Anwar Sadat of Egypt, President Assad of Syria, and the President of Lebanon.
These meetings provided a good opportunity to project the major contribution being made by Bangladesh towards normalisation of relations in South Asia. The Joint Declaration, the August agreement on three way repatriation and its implementation, and the limiting of the war crimes trials to 195 persons were concrete manifestations of Bangladesh’s desire to carry forward the process of normalisation. It was Pakistan’s continuing failure to accord recognition that stood in the way of direct negotiations between Pakistan and Bangladesh. Issues such as the division of assets, and the repatriation of the remaining non-Bangalis, awaited settlement. Some of the leaders raised the question whether Bangladesh could not, as an act of generosity, give up the war crimes trial in the interest of reconciliation. To this the reply was that Bangladesh had already made significant contributions towards reconciliation, but that the dictates of justice demanded that those who had committed terrible crimes should be tried. However, it was pointed out that under the August agreement, Bangladesh had agreed to hold the trials in abeyance, and had agreed to discuss this matter with Pakistan on the basis of sovereign equality, that is, after recognition. On the immediate question of Bangladesh’s attendance at the Islamic Summit in Lahore without prior recognition by Pakistan, the leaders appeared to appreciate the genuineness of this difficulty. Each had sought to be reassured that if the difficulty were to be removed, that is, if recognition were to be accorded, Bangladesh would attend the conference. This reassurance was given readily, since Bangladesh was committed to extending positive support to the Palestinian cause in the Middle East.
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On arrival at Dhaka from Algiers and Tripoli, I was met at the airport by the foreign secretary, Enayet Karim, with a file full of telegrams. These were from President Anwar Sadat of Egypt and from other governments. The substance of the messages was that they looked forward to Bangladesh’s participation in the Islamic Summit, and that they had been given to understand by Pakistan that it would immediately accord recognition if Bangladesh, as an act of generosity, would agree to give up the war crimes trials. Thus, Pakistan was seeking to use this occasion to press for giving up the war crimes trials. As only a few days were left for the Islamic Summit, Enayet Karim felt that replies should be sent immediately. So, although it was late in the evening, I went to the Foreign Office with him, after consultations with the prime minister at his residence, and began to formulate replies. A clear reply was to be sent to President Sadat and the other governments: It had been agreed in the August agreement that the issue of war crimes trials would be discussed directly with Pakistan after recognition. Recognition ought not, therefore, to be linked to the issue of war crimes trials. Bangladesh remained committed to supporting the cause and joining the Islamic Summit if appropriate steps were taken in time to make this possible.
As the replies were being finalised, Enayet Karim suffered a massive heart attack from which he was not to recover. He had had earlier attacks in 1971; the latest, only some weeks earlier. He had been advised complete rest. It was a measure of his patriotism and devotion to duty that he chose to ignore this advice and continued to put in ten to twelve hours of work a day at the office. H borne the pressure and burden of this entire phase of intense activity and, ultimately, it had claimed his life. He died a true martyr to the cause of Bangladesh.
There was just time before the Summit for a visit to Baghdad and Amman. I returned from these visits the day before the Summit was due to start on Friday, 22 February 1974. Immense pressure had been mounted on Pakistan to accord recognition to Bangladesh to enable it to participate at the Summit. Pakistan had been put on the defensive. The teleprinter carried reports of a delegation, led by the foreign minister of Kuwait (who today is the Emir of Kuwait), on its way to Dhaka. It was reported that they were due to reach that very day. No message, giving details of the visit, had as yet been delivered through any of the diplomatic channels.
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During the course of the day, information reached us that the delegation would travel to Dhaka in the private plane of the Kuwaiti foreign minister, and that permission to overfly India had been obtained for the aircraft. The time of arrival had not been mentioned, so there was considerable suspense throughout the day. When the small executive jet flew into Dhaka, it was nearly midnight. The delegation was led, as announced, by Sheikh Sabah al Ahmad al Jaber, the foreign minster of Kuwait. The other members of the delegation were: the foreign ministers of Senegal, Somalia, and the Lebanon, the Secretary General of the Islamic Conference, Dr. Hassan al Tohamy, the Director General in charge of political affairs of the Algerian foreign ministry, and a senior member of the PLO delegation. Dinner had been arranged for the delegation, but its leader said that they were anxious to get down to business. They expressed the desire to have an urgent meeting with the prime minister. When the delegation met the prime minister, it was nearly one in the morning. The leader of the delegation, the foreign minister of Kuwait, enjoyed a reputation as one of the most experienced foreign ministers in the Arab world. It was fortunate that this mission had been entrusted to a person of his maturity, skill, and manifest charm, which was evident at our very first meeting. He struck an immediate rapport with Bangabandhu who, while embracing him, said he welcomed him to Bangladesh as a brother. Sheikh Sabah replied with humility, ‘I respect you as my father and I hope you will listen to me as one does to the appeals of his son’. All those present knew that Sheikh Sabah had broken the ice and established a rapport.
Thus, discussions started on a cordial and friendly note. Sheikh Sabah said he had come to ensure that Bangladesh should take its rightful place, with dignity, at the Islamic Summit. Bangabandhu replied that Bangladesh would like to participate, but for the difficulty presented by non-recognition by Pakistan. Some members of the delegation put forward the suggestion that, even without formal recognition by Pakistan, the Conference could assure that Bangabandhu would be received in Lahore as a Head of Government, with all due ceremony and protocol, and Bangladesh would be accorded all the respect due to a sovereign state. It was explained, in reply that this was not acceptable to Bangladesh since, so long as Pakistan continued to maintain that Bangladesh was still its province, no amount of ceremony and protocol could correct this
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aberration. Some others attempted to explain that the prime minister of Pakistan faced some difficulties because of opposition from the army and other powerful quarters, to extending recognition without obtaining some assurance on the question of war crimes trials. They suggested that a mere informal assurance given to the delegation would be sufficient. Bangabandhu was firm. No assurance could be given. Recognition should not be linked with the question of trials. This subject could be discussed directly with Pakistan after recognition. Bangladesh stood ready and keen to participate in the Islamic Summit, provided that unconditional recognition was accorded. It was also to be understood that Bangladesh would only participate if the issue of the trials, or any other matter which related to South Asia, would not be raised at the Summit, which was being convened for the declared purpose of consolidating support for the Palestinian cause in the Middle East. Bangladesh wished to ensure that Pakistan would not utilise the occasion of the Summit in Lahore to press for the adoption of a resolution which would put pressure on Bangladesh
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with regard to the war crimes trials. Discussions continued into the early morning.
Sheikh Sabah appreciated the position of Bangladesh. He proposed that his colleagues return immediately to Lahore to explain the position to the Conference and to report Bangladesh’s willingness to attend the Summit if unconditional recognition were accorded. Sheikh Sabah himself stayed back as he said he hoped he would be able to accompany Bangabandhu the following day.
It was nearly six in the evening on 22 February when news came, over the radio and the teleprinter that Pakistan had announced its recognition of Bangladesh. The principled position taken by Bangladesh had been vindicated. An urgent meeting of the Bangladesh Cabinet was called, where it was decided that Bangladesh should attend the Summit in Lahore and that it should extend formal recognition to Palestine. Even as the Cabinet members were assembling for the meeting, news arrived that the personal aircraft of the president of Algeria was on its way to Dhaka to carry Sheikh Mujib and the Bangladesh delegation. Accompanied by Sheikh Sabah, the foreign minister of Kuwait, we left for Lahore early the next morning (23 February 1974).
Our arrival in Lahore was, undoubtedly, a historic moment, charged with emotion. The flag of Bangladesh had been hoisted and, when the guard of honour was presented, the military band started to play Amar Sonar Bangla (Bangladesh’s national anthem). Since the shortened version which had been adapted for the national anthem was not available in Pakistan, the band played the national anthem for nearly 20 minutes! The service chiefs of Pakistan, together with none other than General Tikka Khan,2 stood at attention and saluted the flag of Bangladesh. The symbolism and significance of this act, and of the occasion, could not escape anyone present
One of the leaders attending the Summit, when asked what was the most significant achievement of the Summit was replied: the ‘reconciliation of Bangladesh and Pakistan. This mood had been reflected, generally, in the Conference. The participants welcom mutual recognition. Many of the leaders took the opportunity to present personal appeals to Bangladesh to forego the war crimes trials in the interest of carrying forward the reconciliation process.
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2 It was under General Tikka Khan’s command that the military crackdown had been unleashed
on March 25, 1971.
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Bangladesh’s reply was that it would duly take these appeals into account when it sat down to discuss the matter with Pakistan. It was also pointed out that there were some issues on which Pakistan should be expected to give a positive response, namely the division of assets and the repatriation of the persons who had opted to go to Pakistan.
While such informal parleys were taking place, there was report of a move by Pakistan in the drafting committee which, if not prevented, could have spoiled the entire atmosphere that had been generated by the events of the last few days. It was reported that the Pakistani officials in the drafting committee were seeking to introduce into the draft Declaration, which was to be presented for adoption, a paragraph on the undesirability of holding the war crime trials. This was contrary to the express assurances on the basis of which Bangladesh had agreed to participate in the Summit. I immediately contacted Sheikh Sabah who, in turn, summoned some of the members of the delegation who had accompanied him to Dhaka. It was agreed that the attempt to introduce the subject of the war crimes trials into the Declaration was improper, and they said this matter should be taken up with Pakistan. Sometime later, I was informed that Pakistan had been prevailed upon to accept the position that nothing on the war crimes, or any other bilateral matter, could be introduced unless Bangladesh consented to it.
Aziz Ahmed sent word that he urgently wanted to meet me in this connection. A meeting over lunch was suggested. The meeting was held as proposed, though this meant that both Aziz Ahmed and I had to forego attending the public reception at Shalimar Gardens, where Bangabandhu had been accorded a rousing welcome. I impressed upon Aziz Ahmed that any attempt to use the Conference, and the Declaration, to exert pressure on Bangladesh on the subject of war crimes trials would be counterproductive. Pakistan should appreciate that the war crimes trial was a very sensitive issue. While Bangladesh would react adversely to any kind of pressure being exerted on it in this matter, Bangladesh was ready to enter into serious discussions on all outstanding issues. Attention was drawn to the pending problems of apportionment of assets, and the acceptance of persons who still awaited repatriation to Pakistan. Aziz Ahmad persisted, throughout the afternoon, to press for agreement on the inclusion of a paragraph on the war crimes trial in the Summit Declaration but, in
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the face of Bangladesh’s firmness, finally agreed to withdraw the proposed paragraph.
The Islamic Summit, from Bangladesh’s point of view, could be regarded a considerable success. Pakistan had tried to use it as a forum to consistently mobilise opinion against, and exert pressure on, Bangladesh. Indeed, when reports of Pakistan’s effort to hold the Summit had first reached Bangladesh, there was apprehension that Pakistan would seek to utilise this occasion to exert pressure on Bangladesh. It was in this forum that Pakistan had, in the past attempted to make the most of its propaganda that Bangladesh had been a creation of India and that its sovereignty itself was to be questioned because it was subject to Indian influence. Bangladesh’s positive diplomacy had succeeded in dispelling this false impression. Bangladesh could not have made a more dignified entry into the Islamic Conference than it had done. Iran and Turkey had accorded recognition on 22 February, Libya, Oman, Senegal, and the United Arab Emirates were to follow suit. The false propaganda that Pakistan had conducted, principally in the Muslim countries, had been successfully countered by Bangladesh and had been neutralised. Only formalisation of relations with the Chinese and Saudi Arabia remained outstanding, and the circumstances explaining the have been discussed separately.
The Tripartite Talks and the Delhi Agreement of April 1974
Pakistan’s anxiety regarding the war crime trials was manifest in the promptness with which it proposed the holding of talks on this subject. It was agreed that the talks should start in New Delhi on 5 April. Two outstanding issues to which Bangladesh attached importance were: repatriation of the non-Bangalis who had opted for Pakistan, and the division of assets.
The total number of non-Bangalis in Bangladesh was estimated to be in the region of about half a million. In March 1973, a Bangladesh government survey showed that 150,000 had chosen to remain in Bangladesh, while about 260,000 had opted for Pakistan. According to the International Red Cross survey conducted after the August 1973 agreement, 394,000 non-Bangalis had opted for Pakistan. Under the August 1973 agreement, Pakistan had agreed to accept a ‘substantial number of non-Bengalis. This was understood to include all persons falling in the following categories: those domiciled in the
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former West Pakistan, employees of the central government and their families, and members of divided families, plus 25,000 hardship cases. Over 91,000 persons who had already been admitted by Pakistan fell into the agreed categories. In the first phase of repatriation, Pakistan was obliged to accept a minimum of some 116,000 persons. The position in January 1974 was that while the International Red Cross had sent a list of 390,000, clearance had only been granted to about 58,000 persons. By April 1974, clearances were still awaited for the bulk of the persons whose names had been forwarded by the International Red Cross. Over 20,000 of those already cleared had still to be transported to Pakistan (the responsibility under the agreement for arranging transport being that of Pakistan). Thus, the fate of some 200,000 persons, who had declared their allegiance to Pakistan and had expressed their option to the International Red Cross, remained uncertain as Pakistan continued to temporise.
Two issues on which the Delhi talks focused in 1974 were the repatriation of the remaining non-Bangalis and the war crime trials. The Pakistan side displayed a strong reluctance to accept any nonBangalis beyond the 91,000 cleared and the 25,000 in the hardship category. It was impressed upon them that they had assumed the obligation of accepting all persons in the specified categories plus 25,000 in the first phase, and that they had also assumed the obligation to take an additional number in the second phase. The position taken by them was that they would not accept any further non-Bangalis, which was in manifest violation of their undertaking in the August agreement. Aziz Ahmed pleaded internal political difficulties in accepting further non-Bangalis. He elaborated to me, outside the Conference chamber, that the entry of non-Bangalis would create a political problem in Sindh. We were told that those who had gone to Pakistan were ‘disgruntled elements’ and were becoming focal points of opposition to the government. When pressed to suggest what should be done to those who were clearly eligible and entitled to go to Pakistan, but whom Pakistan was not willing to accept, Aziz Ahmed turned round and said, ‘Why don’t you push them into India?’ When told that this was hardly feasible, he retorted, ‘Then push them into the Bay of Bengal’. This was the sort of inflexibility that Bangladesh had to contend with in these talks. Bangladesh, however, held its ground by contending that the
tion of non-Bangalis was one of the matters expressly
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covered by the August agreement, and that unless this issue was dealt with first, it would not proceed to discuss the other matter, namely the war crimes trials. This had the effect of initiating a discussion on the repatriation question.
Ultimately, Pakistan undertook the following obligations: that it would accept all those who fell under the specified categories without any limit to numbers. If any application had been rejected by Pakistan, an aggrieved person could apply for review. If the decision were adverse, the governments of Bangladesh and Pakistan would seek to resolve the matter through mutual consultation. It was further agreed that Pakistan would expedite clearances in for the 25,000 hardship cases, and arrange to transport the cleared persons who were awaiting repatriation.
Then began the discussion on war crimes trials. The initial approach of Pakistan was to take a legalistic line. Did Bangladesh have the right to try these persons? Was there really substantial evidence? These questions were given categorical answers. There was no doubt that Bangladesh had the right to try persons for crimes committed on its territory. This position had been confirmed by eminent international legal experts. As far as evidence was concerned, I confirmed that an overwhelming mass of evidence had been collected by the investigating agency. It was suggested that Aziz Ahmed, who in his early civil service days had experience as a first-class magistrate, might wish to travel to Dhaka to examine some of this evidence. Indeed, it was suggested that the meeting may be adjourned for this purpose, and Bangladesh would arrange to present the evidence to the Pakistan side. The offer was promptly declined.
The Pakistan side now altered its approach. They pleaded for this matter to be considered not in terms of legalities but in a broad political perspective. Pakistan expressed deep regret for what had happened in 1971. The military junta of Yahya Khan had undoubtedly been responsible for terrible happenings. The people of Pakistan were now making a fresh start under a political government. Could a new chapter not be opened, a new beginning be made, so that all the countries of South Asia could work together to build a better future for their peoples? In putting this matter thus, the Pakistan side were echoing what Bangladesh had declared to be the basic principles of its foreign policy so far as it affected the region.
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Bangladesh, therefore, responded by reiterating that it definitely wanted to make a new beginning and to lay the foundation for a new framework of good-neighbourly relations among the three countries. But then, should Pakistan not cooperate with Bangladesh in ensuring that those responsible for grave war crimes and crimes against humanity should be brought to justice? Why did Pakistan wish to identify with the 195 individuals who had committed heinous crimes? Should the people of Pakistan not disown them and support the dictates of justice, and enable accountability for their gross violations to be implemented through the trials which Bangladesh assured would be in compliance with universally recognised juridical norms? International observers would be invited to ensure that such norms were strictly observed.
The Pakistanis submitted that while they regretted and condemned what had happened, they could not agree to a trial being held in Bangladesh as this would be a ‘red rag’ to the army which was still powerful in Pakistan. They pleaded that, in the interest of saving the elected government from being struck down by a military coup, which would happen the moment the trial started in Dhaka, Bangladesh should not insist on holding the trials. Both Bangladesh and India cherished democracy and, therefore, it was hoped that they would help the people of Pakistan who were still struggling to ensure that democracy should take root in their country. Aziz Ahmed categorically assured that Pakistan would undertake to hold an inquiry and would itself prosecute those against whom evidence was found. This submission was bolstered by an appeal to sustain the spirit of reconciliation that had been generated at the Islamic Summit in Lahore. The Pakistanis pleaded that if trials were to start, then all the horrors of the past would be re-enacted in the court room and bitter and painful memories would be revived.
Bangladesh affirmed its own commitment to sustaining the spirit of reconciliation and working towards building good-neighbourly relations, but urged Pakistan to cooperate and uphold the dictates of justice. They were told that this was a matter which deeply touched the people as, during the course of 1971, there was hardly a family that had not lost a member, or suffered, due to the atrocities committed by members of the Pakistan Army. Many more than 195 were liable to be tried. It was in the interest of promoting the larger objectives that Bangladesh had limited the number to be tried to 195.
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When the Pakistanis reiterated the negative fallout of re-enacting the atrocities, Bangladesh suggested that this could be avoided if the prisoners were flown to Dhaka, appeared before the Court, pleaded guilty, and prayed for mercy. This procedure would be short. Indeed, the grant of clemency could be considered upon the prayer for mercy by the prisoners.
Pakistan then appealed to Bangladesh to be magnanimous, and to accept an appeal for mercy on behalf of the prisoners without their being produced before the Court. They invoked the public statement of the prime minister of Bangladesh when he said that Bangladesh knew how to forgive. Could mercy not be shown without the procedure of prisoners appearing before the Court, since their production before Court was likely to provoke a military coup in Pakistan.
While these appeals were being made across the Conference table, Pakistan’s ambassador to Moscow, S. K. Dehlavi, who had earlier in his career served as the District Magistrate, Khulna (now a district of Bangladesh), delivered a personal message from his prime minister to Bangabandhu, who had gone there for medical treatment. The message contained a personal appeal to save the nascent democracy in Pakistan from a coup, which the holding of the trials was likely to provoke.
It was these appeals, together with appeals received by Bangladesh from the countries assembled at the Islamic Summit as well as many others, including the United States of America and the Soviet Union, that led Bangladesh to give consideration to the proposal that Bangladesh grant clemency to the 195 prisoners on the basis of a formal appeal for mercy made by the Pakistan Government, through its delegation at the Conference. It was in this background that the negotiators turned to the consideration of this proposal.
Aziz Ahmed had sought a separate meeting with me where in addition to renewing the appeal, he held out the assurance of settling all bilateral issues to the satisfaction of Bangladesh. The issue of apportionment of assets was mentioned. Aziz Ahmed assured that Pakistan would satisfy on this matter when the prime minister of Pakistan visited Dhaka in the course of the next few weeks.
The negotiations on the text of the appeal for mercy presented some difficulty. Pakistan sought to raise legalities and said that, without looking at the evidence, they could not be expected to admit that the crimes had, in fact, been committed. Would a broad appeal
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to ‘forgive and forget’ not suffice? Bangladesh had gone to the furthest limit in making the most magnanimous concessions. The Pakistan side was told that three basic elements must be contained in their appeal: (a) an admission of guilt for the crimes committed, (b) an expression of condemnation of the crimes, and (c) an appeal for the granting of mercy.
This led Aziz Ahmed to expostulate that, by insisting on this, Bangladesh was seeking to humiliate Pakistan and that if that was their intention, there could be no agreement and they might as well go back to Islamabad. Bangladesh had had enough of Aziz Ahmed’s hectoring negotiating technique. He was told that he was at liberty to go to Islamabad. The Bangladesh position was not calculated to humiliate Pakistan, but to comply with the dictates of justice. If Pakistan was to persist in its view, there would be no agreement. The atmosphere became tense. It was well past midnight. The Indian Foreign Minister, Sardar Swaran Singh, moved to adjourn, giving the innocuous reason that he had to go home to take some medicine. The adjournment restored reason to the Pakistan side. They began to examine the draft, and it was after three o’clock the morning of 9 April 1974 when the following text was agreed:
The question of 195 Pakistani prisoners of war was discussed by the three Ministers, in the context of the earnest desire of the governments for reconciliation, peace and friendship in the sub-continent. The Foreign Minister of Bangladesh stated that the excesses and manifold crimes committed by these prisoners of war constituted, according to the relevant provisions of the U.N. General Assembly resolutions and international law, war crimes, crimes against humanity and genocide, and that there was universal consensus that persons charged with such crimes as Pakistani prisoners of war should be held to account and subjected to the due process of law. The Minister of State for Defence and Foreign Affairs of the Government of Pakistan said that his Government condemned and deeply regretted any crimes that may have been committed. …. The Foreign Minister of Bangladesh stated that the Government of Bangladesh had decided not to proceed with the trials as an act of clemency. It was agreed that the 195 prisoners of war might be repatriated to Pakistan along with the other prisoners of war now in the process of repatriation under the Delhi Agreement. ….
The formal signing ceremony took place the next morning. The international press, which was present, hailed the agreement as a significant landmark on the road to normalisation. For me, this was a moment of enormous emotional and psychological strain. I had
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myself overseen the prosecution arrangements, sat with the prosecutors and investigators, and examined the evidence of the atrocities that had been perpetrated. I had participated in the drafting of the relevant legislation, and presented – abroad – the case for holding the war crimes trials. Now circumstances found me a participant in a formal act by which these trials were to be given up. The measure of the strain this act imposed was registered by the doctor who took my blood pressure shortly after the ceremony and was startled to see that it had gone beyond 200! The act of clemency was to arouse powerful emotions among all those in Bangladesh whose near and dear ones had been victims of atrocities. The magnanimity of Bangladesh was universally acknowledged and reflected in the tributes received via the flood of official telegrams from all over the world. The people sought only justice, not revenge, for all the horrors they had suffered. By the trials and granting clemency, the people proclaimed to the world that they would try to forgive the horrors of yesterday in order to build a better tomorrow. The vision that had moved Bangladesh was one of a new order in South Asia, where democratically-elected, popular governments could work in cooperation to build a better future for their peoples.
I recall my first meeting with Bangabandhu after the signing of the agreement. He was deeply pensive and brooding. Looking up, he said, ‘Bangalis have demonstrated their generosity to the world. We have made the maximum contribution to opening a new chapter in the region’. But, he added, ‘For me, I am borne down by the thought that this is the first time in my life that I have not been able to fulfill a public commitment. I had told our people that the war criminals shall be tried on the soil of Bangladesh. I have not been able to keep my word…. Let us hope that this act will bring some good to our people’. These words seemed to hardly console him, or to carry conviction; one could almost sense a hint of skepticism.
Aziz Ahmed, at a press conference in Lahore, recognised the generosity of Bangladesh in deciding to ‘forgive and forget the mistakes of the past.’ He did, however, say that if the commission set up by the Pakistan government to examine the circumstances of the army’s surrender in Bangladesh in 1971 would resume its inquiries after the repatriation of the prisoners was completed, and if as a result of the inquiry the Pakistan Government felt satisfied that
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crimes and excesses had been committed by any of the 195 prisoners, the government of Pakistan would consider taking appropriate action against them. It seemed highly unlikely that this would be allowed, with General Tikka Khan himself holding the key position of defence secretary. When parts of the Hamoodur Rahman Commission Report which was mandated ‘to investigate the causes of the defeat of the Pakistan military in East Pakistan’, appeared in public in the early eighties, it admitted and confirmed that atrocities had taken place (though it tended to reduce the number of victims), Pakistan did not take any action, contrary to its promise.
The next step in the process was the meeting between Bangladesh and Pakistan to deal with outstanding bilateral issues. The principal issues were: apportionment of assets and the repatriation of the remaining non-Bangalis. Bangladesh proposed that a meeting first be held at the level of officials to prepare the ground for a meeting at the prime ministerial level, which was to be held in Dhaka. It was even suggested that Bangladeshi officials go to Islamabad for this purpose. Aziz Ahmed turned down this suggestion saying that both the issues required a political decision, which could best be made at the prime ministerial level. A date for the meeting was suggested towards the end of May, and subsequently was fixed for the end of June 1974. I had occasion to meet Aziz Ahmed during the course of the Islamic Foreign Ministers’ Conference in Kuala Lumpur from 21-25 June 1974, just before the visit of the Pakistan prime minister. I had clearly told him that the success of the meeting would depend largely upon Pakistan’s coming forward with a reasonable and fair solution to the question of apportionment of assets. A constructive approach with regard to the question of repatriation of the remaining non-Bangalis would also be helpful.
Meeting of the Prime Ministers, Dhaka, 27-30 June 1974
Bangladesh, having demonstrated its magnanimity with regard to the war crimes trials, expected a reciprocal gesture during the course of this visit from Pakistan. Pakistan was fully aware that such a gesture regarding the division of assets was expected from it. This had been put across in the most concrete terms to them, in particular during the course of my meetings with Aziz Ahmed in New Delhi during the tripartite talks and again during the Islamic Foreign
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Ministers’ Conference in Kuala Lumpur. Specific assurances had been extended by him that such a gesture would be forthcoming.
Nor was Bangladesh’s expectation in this regard unreasonable. Pakistan had continued to enjoy all the assets of undivided Pakistan. The central government, located in Islamabad, controlled the foreign exchange and gold reserves. It continued to enjoy the benefit of the gold deposit of the undivided Pakistan in the IMF. Bangladesh had had to buy gold to make its deposit with the IMF, but had specifically provided that this deposit was being made without prejudice to its claim to a share in the gold deposited by the undivided Pakistan. Central government assets had been built up from revenues contributed by all parts of the undivided Pakistan: government buildings, defence installations and equipment, and embassy buildings abroad. Indeed, at the time when the embassy buildings had been purchased in the first years after the creation of Pakistan, the major contribution for these purchases had come from foreign exchange earnings from the export proceeds of jute from East Bengal. Planes flown by PIA and ships of the National Shipping Corporation equally were purchased from central resources. In fact, the National Shipping Corporation had raised share subscription from each wing and maintained distinct share registers.
Bangladesh had had to start life with zero foreign exchange and gold reserves. Indeed, it did not start its existence at the level of zero, but at that of a large minus. Bangladesh had inherited the huge liability of reconstructing a war-ravaged country, and that of rehabilitating millions of refugees. Banks and other commercial organisations, controlled by persons from the western wing, had maintained their financial assets in the western wing, or at any rate, had transferred them to the west before 16 December, while their liabilities had to be met by their establishments in Bangladesh. Even the export proceeds of jute and jute goods exported from Bangladesh had been diverted to Pakistan by instructions issued from head offices located in Pakistan, to remit these proceeds to the head offices and not to the branches located in Bangladesh to which such remittances should have been made. The Fokker Friendship aircraft which had been in use in the eastern wing had also been flown out. We received information that PIA in early 1972, was faced with the problem of surplus capacity. PIA began to lease out Boeing 707
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aircraft to foreign airlines, at a time when Bangladesh had no aircraft and was negotiating with foreign airlines to charter or lease aircraft for its newly-founded national airline, Bangladesh Biman.
Would Pakistan make a genuine effort to reach an agreement on the division of assets or would it come with an empty gesture? This had to be tested. With this in view, Bangladesh decided to suggest a pragmatic approach whereby Pakistan would be invited to accept the principle of equitable apportionment and, having done so, to consider a prompt division of certain easily quantifiable assets, before referring consideration of other assets and liabilities, which involved problems of computation and accounting to a joint commission. Assets considered to be easily quantifiable included gold and foreign exchange reserves as on 16 December 1971, civil aircraft, and ships.
The other matter which would be put to Pakistan was the repatriation of the non-Bangalis who had declared their allegiance to Pakistan and registered with the International Red Cross. Of the total number of some 390,000 who had registered, only about 98,000 had been repatriated from Bangladesh. Some 20,000 of those who had been cleared had still not been repatriated, as Pakistan had yet to make arrangements to transport them. This would still leave some 200,000 for whom a humanitarian solution had to be found. If a positive response was made by Pakistan on these two matters (or on the division of assets alone), Bangladesh was ready not only to enter into full diplomatic relations, but to conclude an agreement for mutual cooperation embracing economic, commercial, trade, educational, and cultural cooperation. The draft of such an agreement was prepared and was actually delivered to the Pakistani side during the negotiations, to leave it in no doubt that Bangladesh was ready to immediately move forward to a full normalisation of relations – once there was a meaningful response on outstanding issues.
The expectations held by Bangladesh were to be belied by the intransigent position adopted by the Pakistani side. A part of the explanation may lie in the rather extraordinary approach the Pakistanis adopted to the entire visit.
At the first meeting of the prime ministers, after the exchange of courtesies, Bangabandhu turned to the Pakistan prime minister and said that Bangladesh had done everything it could to promote
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reconciliation. It had made the ultimate contribution by granting clemency to the 195 Pakistani POWs who were to be tried for war crimes, although this was a matter on which feelings ran high in Bangladesh and for which we had made a public commitment to hold the trials on the soil of Bangladesh. This was because Bangladesh wanted to open a new chapter. Bangabandhu reminded the Pakistani prime minister that, when the latter had appealed to him on the matter of war crime trials, he (Bangabandhu) had said ‘Leave it to me, I will do my besť’. Bangladesh had done its part. ‘Now, I leave it to you, it is for Pakistan to do its part’. The Pakistani prime minister responded by referring to difficulties. The division of assets involved complicated accounting. As for the non-Bangalis, those who had gone to Pakistan were creating problems enough; Pakistan really could not take any more. It was put to him that there were certain easily quantifiable assets in respect of which an agreement could be reached. This would be a token of sincerity, and would lend credibility in further negotiations that might be held with regard to other assets. As regards nonBangalis, Pakistan had nearly six times the territory of Bangladesh, surely it could accommodate 200,000 persons. Pakistan was, legally and morally, bound to absorb them. Given the will, surely a way could be found to deal with this humanitarian problem. Those who claimed citizenship of Pakistan could not be left hanging in limbo. It was then decided to refer these questions for negotiation between the respective foreign ministers, who would be aided by officials.
These negotiations, if they may be called that, were to witness a degree of intransigence beyond belief on the part of Aziz Ahmed, who led the Pakistani side. He was unwilling to enter into negotiations on any concrete proposal. As regards non-Bangalis, he said that Pakistan had done all it could, and it could not accept any more. That was that. On assets, that this was a complicated matter, and the entire matter could be referred to a committee of officials for examination. The Bangladesh side replied that consigning a matter to a committee was a recognised method of ‘freezing’ matters, to which no solution was expected or intended. This would not satisfy the minimum expectation of Bangladesh, and totally lacked credibility. The other side suggested that the committee might be directed to report back within six months. This, too, was no solution since experience indicated that committees, given a time limit to report
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back on contentious matters, simply reported back that nothing could be resolved within the time limit and asked for extensions. Thus, the matter would get lost in an endless series of committee meetings.
Bangladesh, then, formally proposed that this vital issue could be dealt with constructively by the adoption of an alternative approach, as follows: (a) that Pakistan should agree in principle that assets and liabilities would be shared equitably; (b) that a joint commission should examine the details; and (c) (this was the crucial element) that Pakistan should make a ‘token payment’, within two months, of Bangladesh’s share of ‘easily quantifiable’ assets such as gold and foreign exchange reserves, civil aircraft, and ships. It was pointed out that such a ‘token payment of an amount (which would have worked out to between $200 million to $300 million, not even 10 per cent of the total assets involved) would be appreciated by Bangladesh as a concrete step towards a final settlement. As the prime minister of Bangladesh had said to Pakistan’s prime minister, ‘It would be a token of sincerity, which would lend credibility to subsequent negotiations’. It would also help Bangladesh resolve the critical foreign exchange difficulties it was experiencing as a result of the steep escalation in the price of all its essential imports, including food, fuel, and fertilizer. The first comment from the other side was that Pakistan was not a rich country and had its own foreign exchange difficulties. Bangladesh was quick to point out that if Pakistan agreed, in principle, to make the ‘token payment, it would not have to pay out of its own resources since there was every possibility of friendly oilproducing countries coming forward with substantial contributions. There were enough indications from them that they would support the process of reconciliation in this way. Would it not be constructive to examine the approach suggested by Bangladesh?
Aziz Ahmed then came back with a rejoinder that made it quite clear that there was no desire, on his side, to find a solution or reach agreement. He said, ‘We have not come for substantive negotiations. This is only a good-will visit. We do not have anyone in the delegation competent to talk about assets’. This was an astounding position for Pakistan to take, in the context of the specific assurances he had extended in New Delhi, and in Kuala Lumpur, that Pakistan would come to Dhaka prepared to not only discuss the subject of division of assets, but that every effort would be made to find a solution
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satisfactory to Bangladesh. They had brought a delegation of no less than 102 members with them. It was hardly credible that no officials competent to discuss this matter had been included in the delegation. It was clear that Pakistan was going back on the assurance extended to Bangladesh, and that nothing would be forthcoming from them as far as division of assets was concerned.
There could hardly be a clearer case of bad faith. The only reply which appeared appropriate to me was to say, ‘If you had only told us, even in Kuala Lumpur two days ago, that no substantive negotiations were to take place, we might have suggested postponement of the visit, or perhaps, at least left out serious talks from the agenda, and instead arranged only a river cruise!’ The prime minister had to be informed that an impasse had been reached in the negotiations. It was, however, agreed that the prime ministers would meet the following morning at 9 a.m. There was just a hope that the impasse might be broken at that level. At 8.45 the next morning, I received a telephone call from Aziz Ahmed saying that this meeting should be called off.
Thus, there was total failure on Pakistan’s part fulfill the assurances it had made that the delegation, when it came to Dhaka, would make a positive contribution towards finding a solution on the division of assets and on repatriation satisfactory to Bangladesh. It seemed a lot like a case of an unconscionable person who had held out certain assurances to induce another to do various things which he wanted him to do, and having got what he wanted, to turn round and say, “Am I not clever, I have managed to get something for nothing’. Such conduct at the level of individuals (as distinct from states), is regarded as dishonourable and characterised as fraud. At the level of states, some cynical practitioners of the art may call it diplomacy. If it was that, it was of an unenlightened variety which sacrificed valuable long-term objectives for petty short-term gains. Pakistan may have succeeded in denying Bangladesh its share of assets, and in closing its doors to a few hapless non-Bangalis, but by doing so had thrown away the opportunity of carrying forward the process of reconciliation and opening a new chapter in South Asia which could have laid the foundation of good-neighbourly relations based on mutual trust.
Bangladesh now had to decide on its course of action under these circumstances. It was evident that what the Pakistan delegation
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wanted was to show its people, and those outside who favoured reconciliation, that the visit had accomplished that purpose and thus been a ‘success’. There was, however, an unwillingness on its part to bear the burden of fulfilling the obligations upon which such reconciliation was premised. The delegation’s aim, it seemed quite clear, was to secure (without conceding to any of Bangladesh’s demands) an agreement whereby trade would be resumed, diplomatic relations established, and a joint communiqué issued proclaiming that the process of reconciliation had been consummated. This done, the issue of assets and repatriation could be buried away in protracted committee deliberations and diplomatic correspondence.
The only course open to Bangladesh to frustrate this aim was to take a firm stand: If there was to be no agreement on division of assets or repatriation, there would be no trade, no the diplomatic relations, and no joint communiqué. When this position was conveyed to them, they appeared worried, thereby confirming the assessment we had made about their aims.
The Pakistani prime minister was now keen to have a discussion with the prime minister of Bangladesh who, according to the programme, was to arrive a few minutes before the scheduled departure to accompany his guest to the airport. The Pakistanis proposed that the departure be delayed in order to allow time for a discussion to take place between the prime ministers. After the prime ministers had been together for some time, I joined them together with Aziz Ahmed. I expressed my profound disappointment at the totally negative outcome of the discussions. My exact words, which I later repeated at a press conference were, -…a great opportunity has been missed take a giant step forward towards reconciliation’. The prime ministers directed that Aziz Ahmed and I should confer together to see if some way could be found out of the impasse, so that a joint communiqué could be issued. I conferred separately with Bangabandhu and it was agreed that unless Aziz Ahmed was ready to show some accommodation on the question of assets or repatriation, Bangladesh would not agree to anything but the most formal communiqué, stating that the prime ministers had met, talks had been held, respective positions had been stated, but that no agreement had been reached.
Since, in the course of the discussions which extended over nearly an hour, Aziz Ahmed maintained a position of total inflexibility, it was
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reported to the prime ministers that no progress could be made, and that only a bare formal four line joint communiqué would be issued, with a sentence added to include the usual formal invitation by the host to return the visit. A copy of this was handed over to Aziz Ahmed. It would be clear to the world that the visit had been a failure, and that this had been caused by Pakistan’s intransigence and bad faith. It was clear that Pakistan had gone back on the assurances it had extended to Bangladesh, and to others who had, in the past, interceded with Bangladesh on Pakistan’s behalf.
The prime minister of Pakistan, almost at the point of boarding the plane, turned round to the prime minister of Bangladesh and said, ‘Well, can we not at least start trade?’, to which the latter had simply replied: ‘All right, send us your proposal’. While Bangladesh released the agreed four-line joint communiqué, some hours after the Pakistani prime minister’s plane took off, a long message came through the plane’s radio which, after a formal expression of thanks to the host for the hospitality extended, etc., went on to say that Pakistan appreciated that “agreements’ had at least been reached to resume trade and to end hostile propaganda and that these ‘agreements’ would contribute further towards strengthening bonds of friendship, etc. It was later learnt that Pakistan did not publish the agreed four-line joint communiqué, but issued its own statement referring to the above so-called “agreements’ and attempted to project the visit as a ‘success’.
Bangladesh then proceeded to convey a report of what had transpired and its own sense of disappointment, through diplomatic channels, to the friendly countries that had interceded on Pakistan’s behalf on the subject of the war crimes trials and through whom Pakistan, in turn, had assured that it would reciprocate on the matters that concerned Bangladesh, such as assets and repatriation. This was intended to exert pressure on Pakistan and to neutralise a new line of propaganda that Pakistan had begun to spread, namely that Bangladesh had held back from establishing diplomatic relations because of Indian pressure!
That the disappointment was widely shared, and that an adverse fall-out from this was reaching Islamabad, became evident from a letter received some weeks later from Aziz Ahmed, through Swiss diplomatic channels, suggesting that Bangladesh’s disappointment was not justified and that it was a result of having expected too much
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from Pakistan! A letter was sent in reply calling attention to the specific assurances that Pakistan had extended. It was urged that true reconciliation could only be promoted through a sincere effort to resolve outstanding issues, such as division of assets and repatriation. It was specifically proposed that talks could be held, without delay, at the officials’ level at any mutually convenient time and place to seek solutions to these problems.
Shortly afterwards, I had occasion to meet Aziz Ahmed in New York during the UN General Assembly session in September 1974. At a meeting at which officials of both sides were present, Aziz Ahmed asked why Bangladesh was disappointed at the outcome of the June talks. I reminded him of what he had said in his letter, and the assurances he had extended in Delhi and Kuala Lumpur. Aziz Ahmed did not deny having given such assurances; instead, he put the question, ‘What can be done now?’ I suggested that official level talks, which had been proposed in his letter, could be held to seek an early solution to these problems.
Bangladesh officials were ready to go to Islamabad for such talks. This proposal was, in substance, publicly reaffirmed in the Bangladesh prime minister’s address to the UN General Assembly, and again in the statement made by me in the general debate in the General Assembly in October 1974. But no response was received to this proposal then, nor for the next eight months. Indeed, as events recounted below will show, the Pakistani attitude towards the Bangladesh proposal, to hold talks for settling outstanding issues, remained evasive until after 15 August 1975, when a coup claimed Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujib’s life.
Bangladesh continued to pursue diplomatic efforts to exert pressure on Pakistan to respond to our proposals for talks on outstanding issues. A visit by a minister from one of the Arab Gulf states provided an opportunity to remind Pakistan of its obligations. The Commonwealth Heads of Government meeting in Kingston, Jamaica, in April 1975 provided another opportunity to persuade those assembled to include a paragraph in the Final Declaration urging that outstanding issues, such as the sharing of assets and normalisation of relations in South Asia, be solved through mutual discussion.
It was gratifying to have been able to obtain such support from the Commonwealth Heads of Government, who were normally reluctant to express a view on matters which were regarded to be of
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bilateral concern. Bangladesh had been able to persuade them that normalisation of relations in South Asia was a matter of wider concern, and that they should not hesitate to do something that might help to promote the process of normalisation. The British prime minster, Sir Harold Wilson, had been particularly helpful. In fact, the initiative on this matter had emerged during his discussions with Bangabandhu over the weekend excursion – which was an integral part of the Commonwealth Heads of Government meeting. The Heads had been taken to the famous ocean resort of Montego Bay, and the foreign ministers to Oricho Rios further down the coast. I received a telephone call during the weekend from Bangabandhu to say that he had discussed with Prime Minister Wilson the stalemate that had taken place in the normalisation process as a result of Pakistan’s failure to come forward with a constructive approach resolving outstanding issues. Wilson felt that this matter could legitimately be discussed at the meeting and an appropriate statement made in the Declaration. I was asked to discuss this matter with the British foreign secretary, James Callaghan, and other foreign ministers. Such weekend consultations were helpful in creating the atmosphere necessary for introducing this subject in the meeting immediately upon its resumption. While a few of the Heads expressed some hesitation about involving themselves in a ‘bilateral matter’, a number of them responded positively to Bangabandhu’s request to include a call for a solution of the problems impeding the normalisation of relations in South Asia in the Declaration. This resulted in a decision to include a statement for the resolution of the division of assets. Prime Minister Wilson ‘improved the draft formulation presented by Bangladesh by suggesting that the words ‘sharing of assets’ sounded better than ‘division of assets’. The amendment was readily and gratefully accepted.
Bangladesh was next able to pursue this matter at the Islamic Foreign Ministers’ Conference in Jeddah in July 1975. The Muslim countries had been active in appealing to Bangladesh for clemency for the war crimes. They had, in doing so, underlined the importance they attached to promoting reconciliation between Bangladesh and Pakistan. The principal impediment that stood in the way of establishing diplomatic relations was Pakistan’s continued failure to make a positive response on the outstanding issues of division of assets and repatriation. Pakistan had tried to spread the false
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propaganda that diplomatic relations had been held up because of India’s influence upon Bangladesh. Bangladesh had already explained quite convincingly to friendly governments, and in particular to the Muslim governments who were the principal targets of such propaganda, that there was no substance in the suggestion that Bangladesh was being restrained by India from entering into diplomatic relations with Pakistan. The latter’s intransigence in fulfilling its obligations had kept major outstanding issues alive. An example was pointed out of how there had been no diplomatic relations between Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates pending the settlement of the Buraimi oasis problem. The UAE had come into existence in 1971, but diplomatic relations were only established with Saudi Arabia in 1975 after they had reached agreement on the Buraimi question.
It was decided that Bangladesh should seize the initiative at this Conference to demonstrate its own positive approach on regional issues and at the same time to concert pressure on Pakistan. I outlined the main elements of the initiative to Bangabandhu before leaving for Jeddah, and obtained his approval and authority to pursue it with full vigour at the Conference. Bangladesh would seek the good offices of the foreign ministers of Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and the United Arab Emirates by presenting a proposal in the following terms: Bangladesh was keen that the process of reconciliation between Bangladesh and Pakistan be consummated by the establishment of diplomatic relations with the least possible delay. Since a stalemate had been brought about by Pakistan’s continued failure to respond to Bangladesh’s proposal to solve the two outstanding issues of division of assets and repatriation through mutual discussions, Bangladesh now proposed a method by which the stalemate could be broken. All three foreign ministers together, or any one amongst them, could make themselves available for mediation so that Bangladesh and Pakistan could meet with them. Each side could state their respective positions; thereafter, the mediators could propose the elements of a solution. Bangladesh, for its part, was ready to commit in advance that if the mediators were to recommend that Bangladesh should not press its claims, Bangladesh would accept this decision, and proceed to announce the establishment of diplomatic relations then and there. It was further stated that Bangladesh was ready for such talks during, or immediately after, the conference in Jeddah. There could be no more
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convincing demonstration of Bangladesh’s good faith and constructive approach to the solution of outstanding issues. Nor could there be clearer proof of the falsity of the suggestion that the establishment of diplomatic relations by Bangladesh was in any way held up due to external restraints.
The reaction to the proposal was quite positive. The three foreign ministers consulted together and agreed that this was a most fair and reasonable proposal, and they would put it to Aziz Ahmed who was requested to come and join informal discussions on this subject. As Aziz Ahmed was engaged on the rostrum, he sent Agha Shahi, who was then Pakistan’s foreign secretary. When the Bangladesh proposal was conveyed to him, he was taken somewhat by surprise. It was difficult to turn down a perfectly reasonable proposal. He cautiously replied that any constructive proposal was welcome and that he would immediately convey it to Aziz Ahmed.
Aziz Ahmed’s response was evasive. I took the initiative to arrange an informal meeting between Aziz Ahmed and the three foreign ministers. Aziz Ahmed seemed distinctly uncomfortable. His first comment was that he had no instructions on this matter, and would need to get instructions from his prime minister before he could respond. He then mentioned that he had the impression that the Shah of Iran had been approached for mediation. Bangladesh clarified that that was not the case. Aziz Ahmed did not agree to a meeting in Jeddah along the lines proposed. He seemed to wish to extricate himself from further discussions and, therefore, suggested that he would meet me the next day over lunch. He would convey the proposal to his prime minister, who would need some time to give it due consideration.
The proposed meeting with Aziz Ahmed took place over lunch the following day on 16 July 1975. I opened the discussion by stating that Bangladesh had spared no effort to find ways of solving the outstanding issues so that progress could be made towards the establishment of diplomatic relations. It was up to Pakistan to make a constructive response. I recounted that, as early as December 1974 when the Bangladesh’s President Mohammadullah had visited Abu Dhabi, he had told Sheikh Zayed, the president of the United Arab Emirates, in response to the latter’s enquiry as to what was holding up the establishment of relations, that it was due to outstanding issues which remained unresolved. He had gone on to suggest that
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Sheikh Zayed, who enjoyed the special confidence of Pakistan, might be so good as to mediate to resolve these issues. The proposal made the previous day was in furtherance of the same idea, that friendly mediation may be the way to break the existing stalemate.
Aziz Ahmed’s reply was but probing. He said he had the impression that some approach had been made to the Shah of Iran for mediation. To this, the reply was that the Shah – as indeed a number of other heads of state and government, who had taken an interest in Bangladesh’s relations with Pakistan – had been kept informed of developments, or rather the lack of them, but the Shah had not been approached to mediate; only Sheikh Zayed’s name was mentioned. Aziz Ahmed then wanted to know if Bangladesh was insisting on any preconditions for the proposed meeting. I replied that now there were no preconditions, save the sincerity to seek satisfactory and fair solutions to the outstanding issues. .
Aziz Ahmed went on to repeat that the Shah of Iran had indicated an interest in mediation. Pakistan had a special relationship with Iran, and given the sensitivity of the Shah, Pakistan would have to clear the matter with him before talks could be initiated under the good offices of Sheikh Zayed. He then reverted to the so-called agreement on trade which he said was reached during his prime minister’s visit, but had not been implemented by Bangladesh. To this, I replied that I did not wish to enter into controversy as this would be counterproductive, but the fact of the matter was that there had been only one written agreement concluded earlier, namely the one relating to repatriation of non-Bangalis, and the position there was that even persons cleared under the first phase still awaited repatriation although more than a year had elapsed. It was better, therefore, not to go into questions of non-implementation but instead to focus on moving ahead to solve outstanding issues. I emphasised that it was in the larger interest of both countries, and of the broader objective of peace and stability in the region, that a positive approach be adopted to resolve outstanding issues, so that normalisation of relations could be achieved.
Aziz Ahmed undertook to report these matters to his prime minister immediately on his return. He promised to send a prompt reply to Bangladesh. Through diplomatic notes the Bangladesh Foreign Office informed the three foreign ministers of these developments.
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Nearly a month was to pass. No reply came. On 15 August 1975, Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujib was gunned down along with his entire family, except for two daughters who were abroad. Hardly had a few hours passed, hardly had any reliable news reached the rest of the world as to the nature of the coup, when Pakistan hastened to announce the recognition of the regime headed by Khandaker Mushtaque Ahmed, who had been the commerce minister in Sheikh Mujib’s Cabinet. Mushtaque had hailed the killers as heroes and declared himself president. Pakistan extended recognition to him even before the late president had been buried, and proceeded to appeal to other ‘Muslim’ countries to recognise ‘the Islamic Republic of Bangladesh’!
Aziz Ahmed was to meet the new foreign minister of Bangladesh within a few weeks in New York during the UN General Assembly Session to complete the formalities for the establishment of diplomatic relations. It was reported that when the new foreign minister mentioned that Bangladesh now hoped that there would be an early solution of outstanding issues, such as the division of assets, Aziz Ahmed cut him short by saying that ‘President’ Mushtaque Ahmed had expressed a contrary view !
Chapter 14
Bangladesh at the United Nations
The initial application for entry into the United Nations in August 1972 was met with a veto from the Chinese. The veto set the possibility of a forward move in relations with the Chinese back for some time. Bangladesh acted with great forbearance. The Bangladesh Government expressed its deep regret, but did not resort to a hostile campaign on this matter. The dignified position adopted by Bangladesh was that if the Chinese took 22 years to enter the United Nations, Bangladesh could well wait and hope that reason would prevail on the Chinese
It was evident that the Chinese were using the exercise of their veto to help Pakistan secure favourable solutions of outstanding issues. Pakistan was to indicate often that if matters were settled to its satisfaction, it could help in Bangladesh’s entry to the United Nations. Bangladesh had refused to countenance such ‘horsetrading’.
When, as per the agreement of August 1973, the repatriation of prisoners of war was arranged along with repatriation of Bangalis from Pakistan to Bangladesh and non-Bangalis from Bangladesh to Pakistan, Bangladesh sought to mobilise support for its membership to the United Nations at the Non-Aligned Summit in Algiers in September 1973. Conscious that the Chinese would not ignore a resolution of the Non-Aligned countries, Bangladesh invited support for a resolution on this subject. These efforts were rewarded. The resolution supporting Bangladesh’s immediate admission received overwhelming support in the political commission with reservations only from Saudi Arabia, Libya and Jordan. Appeals made to them, to withdraw their reservations were made directly; and, with the valuable help of PLO’s Yasser Arafat, the resolution was ultimately adopted without any opposition in the Plenary.
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Bangladesh could have moved for admission in the UN General Assembly session which was starting in a few weeks. We received information, however, that Pakistan might once again seek to procure a Chinese veto. Bangladesh decided that rather than force the issue, it would show no unseemly haste and, instead, would move in the next session. The Chinese had stated that their main reason for obstructing Bangladesh’s membership was the implementation of UN resolutions which dealt principally with the repatriation of the prisoners of war. The repatriation process had already commenced. Once this was complete, Bangladesh assessed that there would be no further objection, nor indeed would any basis be left for the Chinese to persist in their objection.
Thus, when by April 1974, repatriation was almost concluded and an agreement had also been concluded on war crimes trials, Bangladesh decided that it would move the Security Council for membership. The Egyptian permanent representative had discreetly discussed the matter with Teng Hsiao-Ping, who had led the Chinese delegation to the Sixth Special Session of the UN General Assembly convened in April 1974. The indication he had received was that there would be no difficulty in Bangladesh becoming a member at the next session.
Pakistan still entertained hopes of using Bangladesh’s UN membership as a bargaining counter in its negotiations with Bangladesh on bilateral issues, such as the division of assets and the repatriation of non-Bangalis. Bangladesh was determined to deny this to Pakistan.
The Foreign Office instructed Syed Anwarul Karim, who was in New York, to lodge a letter with the Security Council, formally renewing its application for membership. In our assessment, despite Pakistan’s entreaties to the Chinese, the latter would not oblige Pakistan in this matter without seriously embarrassing their own position. Pakistan was, indeed, to make this effort, but without success.
When the application was lodged with the Kenyan president of the Security Council in May 1974, a request was made that a decision be taken during the period of his presidency. Bangladesh then proceeded to mobilise the support of the Security Council members with full vigour, calculating that if fourteen positive votes were lined up, the Chinese would be loath to hold back their own even if Pakistan pressed them to do so. Bangladesh’s ambassadors were instructed to make formal approaches to the governments of Security
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Council members in their capitals. Formal assurances of a positive vote were steadily being obtained. A Security Council member with whom Bangladesh had no diplomatic relations was the Islamic Republic of Mauritania. Their reaction was difficult to predict. An opportunity to approach them was found when President Senghor of Senegal paid a visit to Dhaka in May. At the request of Bangabandhu, President Senghor telephoned his permanent representative in New York to request his prime minister in Dakar to contact the Mauritanian president and make a personal request for his support. The next day, Mauritania’s assurance of a positive vote was confirmed
With the assurance of fourteen positive votes, the matter seemed headed for a satisfactory conclusion. Just a day before the meeting, however, a Chinese message was delivered to Ambassador Doha in Belgrade, to the effect that while the Chinese looked forward to the development of relations with Bangladesh, could Bangladesh not defer pursuing its application for a couple of months? There was then a suggestion that they hoped that there would be a satisfactory outcome to the talks scheduled with Pakistan in June. It was now patently clear that what Bangladesh had apprehended had in fact happened. Pakistan wanted to use the UN membership as a bargaining counter in its negotiations with Bangladesh. They were clearly abusing the indulgence which the Chinese had shown towards them. It would be a flagrant abuse of the veto power to use it as a bargaining counter to support another state in its bilateral negotiations. Bangladesh was determined not to allow the Chinese to be used in this way by Pakistan. We sent a polite, but firm, reply to the Chinese saying that there could be no linkage between the talks with Pakistan and the consideration of Bangladesh’s application for membership. Bangladesh would, therefore, press for a decision on 27 May. There was an air of crisis in New York. The Chinese representative in New York hinted that it would be better to defer consideration. Bangladesh’s nerves were being tested. Bangladesh remained firm. The Chinese must be made to respect Bangladesh as an independent and principled nation.
Intensive diplomatic activity followed. The Egyptian Permanent Representative took a leading role in steering towards an agreed solution. As the hour of the meeting approached, the Chinese representative kept everyone guessing as to whether they would
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actually veto the application. Our assessment was that they could not. Just before the meeting was to be convened, there were discussions between the Chinese and Egyptian representatives. The Egyptian ambassador had suggested that a ‘face-saving’ formula for the Chinese would be to defer consideration for ten days, on the express understanding that, on that day, the resolution on membership would be unanimously adopted. The Chinese representative said he would seek instructions on this formula from Beijing. Ambassador Karim sought instructions from Dhaka by telephone. Since what was proposed was a unanimous resolution in support of Bangladesh’s resolution on 7 June, and since Pakistanis were not due to visit Dhaka before the end of June, the two issues had been decisively delinked. Pakistan’s efforts to obstruct our membership, and use this issue to secure illegitimate leverage, had been defeated. At 2 a.m., Ambassador Karim telephoned to say that the Chinese representative had received instructions from Beijing to agree to this formula. The call was received at the prime minister’s residence. Ambassador Karim was instructed to concur with the proposal. Bangladesh would enter the United Nations with dignity.
On 7 June, not only was the resolution recommending Bangladesh’s membership in the United Nations adopted unanimously, but the Chinese representative made a speech welcoming Bangladesh as a member of the UN. He affirmed that there had been traditional friendship between the people of China and the people of Bangladesh, and that they looked forward to the development of friendly relations with all the three countries in the region. Those who slander Bangladesh by suggesting that it was not really sovereign before 15 August 1975 should read these Security Council proceedings. Any one who reads it cannot but be impressed by the moving tributes paid to Bangladesh.
In September 1974, Bangladesh formally took its seat in the United Nations. I had the privilege of participating in the ceremony for its entry. I addressed the General Assembly and hoisted the flag of Bangladesh at the United Nations, in the presence of the president of the UN General Assembly, Abdulaziz Bouteflika (then foreign minister of Algeria and today its president) and Secretary General Waldheim. After these formalities were completed, Bangabandhu addressed the General Assembly on 23 September. It was the first time that the General Assembly was addressed in Bangla. I noticed
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some of the members had removed their earphones without interpretation. One of them turned to me and said, ‘We find the sound of the Bangla language conveys the underlying emotions so powerfully that we can understand what is being said without understanding the words’.
Bangabandhu started his memorable speech by saying, ‘This was a historic moment as it marked the fulfillment of the nation’s struggle for self-determination. Our people had made the supreme sacrifice to vindicate the principles for which the United Nations was founded. We know that people yearn universally as we do for a world in which peace and justice will prevail. I am particularly happy that I am
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addressing this Assembly when it is presided by a freedom fighter (Abdulaziz Bouteflika of Algeria). I recall that last year I participated in the Non-Aligned Summit held in Algiers. I thank all the states and peoples who supported Bangladesh’s liberation struggle and all those who welcomed Bangladesh into the United Nations’. He continued, ‘Bangladesh’s struggle has been for the realisation of peace and justice in the fullest sense and that is why it has, throughout, aimed at emancipation of people from economic injustice and deprivation. To achieve these goals the heroic struggle of the suffering people of Asia, Africa, and Latin America would derive strength from the principles which the United Nations represents’. He expressed solidarity with the just struggle of people who were under illegal occupation, and against colonialism and apartheid thus: ‘Bangladesh will remain committed to be among those in the world community who continue to strive for peace and justice and effectively cooperate to end hunger, unemployment, and poverty. It was only by establishing a just economic order in the world that the universal yearning for peace could be realised’.
This was a befitting introduction of Bangladesh to the world assembly.
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Epilogue
Recounting the past, and writing an account of the struggles through which we advanced on the road to independence, may serve several purposes. As an account of the challenges faced and overcome, of the sacrifices made and sufferings undergone, and of the leadership imbued with selfless dedication which could unite people to fight for their rights of freedom and justice, it should be a source of inspiration. By recalling the Language Movement of the fifties, and the Six Points and Eleven Points movements of the sixties which culminated in the war of independence in 1971, it explains how what seemed to be impossible could be made possible – how healthy politics empowered unarmed people to unprecedented heights of heroism, how it awakened their national consciousness and sense of justice and transformed them into freedom fighters. Victory was achieved against seem ngly insurmountable odds – against the power of armed might backed by external powers. It marked the triumph of justice. As Bangabandhu, in his speech in Delhi on the eve of homecoming from captivity described it, ‘I go back not with any hatred in my heart for anyone, but with the satisfaction that truth has at last triumphed over falsehood, sanity over insanity, courage over cowardice, justice over injustice, good over evil’.
This inspiration should serve to generate national self-confidence and determination to move ahead to realise the goals of independence – the unrealised dreams of the martyrs – who laid down their lives so that future generations could be free from poverty and deprivation, from injustice and oppression. The independence which was won places upon us, as citizens of an independent state, and indeed our future generations, a responsibility to commit ourselves actively to participate in the struggle for liberation in which we continue to be engaged – the struggle to build a just society, assuring equal opportunity to all, for self-realisation.
To bring about the transformation in order to achieve social and economic justice, the history recounted above should, in addition to
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being a source of inspiration, provide valuable lessons. It teaches how critically important it is for the leaders and the people to remain committed to the healthy politics that had enabled them to pursue shared national goals and values which had united them and thus made victory possible. Commitment of shared national goals and the public interest, over private or party interest, would promote integrity in public life, thus curbing corruption (which is defined as sacrifice of the public interest for private gain) which obstructs progress towards a just society.
Independence has provided the people who had suffered from the deprivation of their political, economic, and social rights with the opportunity to realise those rights. The key to make independence meaningful for all is for the political system to ensure that the Constitution’s affirmation – that power belongs to the people – is respected. This requires that democratic institutions must function effectively. They must not be undermined by narrow partisan politics which put party interests above national and public interest. A multiparty democracy requires not only that periodic elections at all levels must be fair and free (from money, muscle, and manipulation), but that such fundamental pillars of the Constitution as the rule of law, the independence of the judiciary, and genuine devolution and decentralisation needed for effective local government are not undermined but strengthened.
The challenge presented by independence is to make full use of the opportunity to realise national goals and achieve social and economic transformation. The struggle to achieve it is a continuing one. For people to sustain this struggle, hope and strength could be derived from the experience gathered on the road to independence.
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