Desicritics Author: Shobak: Naeem Mohaiemen

Big Brother is Taping You

Shobak: Naeem Mohaiemen — Thu, 2 Feb 2006 16:54:30 EST

In the 1970s, when we lived in Libya, you spoke the name of "Muammar al Gaddafi" at your peril. Since we spoke no Arabic, his name mixed in with Bengali would automatically make us suspect. People lived in such fear of the Gaddafi regime that when someone said his name in a taxi, the driver blanched and insisted that we had to stop talking politics. Returning to Bangladesh, I soon saw the arrival of the Ershad junta, which exhibited similar tendencies. But whenever someone would make a particularly florid point about the General (usually involving his golf game) on the Dhaka University campus, one particularly cautious friend would say "shabdhan, dewal er kaan ache." (Careful, even the walls have ears!")

Not much has changed under democracy, AL and BNP style. Regardless of which government is in power, human rights activists are always at odds with the state. Drishtipat, a human rights group I am a member of, got blasted by AL government for their campaign on behalf of journalist Tipu Sultan (attacked by Zoinal Hazari's goons) and then by BNP government for their campaign on behalf of Annadaprashad's Hindu villagers and the Ahmadiya Muslims. If you wash dirty laundry in public, you are tagged "enemy of state", "doing anti-state activities abroad", etc. ad nauseum. For NGOs and citizens groups working in human rights areas, government surveillance is an expected fact. Many activists that I work with are cautious in their e-mail and phone conversations, because they presume the government is bugging their phones.

Very soon, the pleasure of the government's eyes and ears will be extended to every citizen of Bangladesh thanks to the freshly passed amendment to Telecoms Act which allows unprecedented level of government spying on citizens. Not only can the agencies now spy on your every phone call and e-mail, these records can be used in a court as evidence. According to this amendment, they will also have the power to STOP ANY COMMUNICATION they deem harmful to "national interests". In a time where internet and phone use is skyrocketing in Bangladesh, this new law will affect the lives of millions of citizens. There has been the predictable level of muted outrage and condemnation, but there has not been enough. Something on the order of magnitude similar to the protests generated by unitary education proposal is necessary to stop this before Parliament ratifies this amendment.

A friend recently responded to my frustration over this issue by saying, "Look, in Bangladesh, kon-ta chere kon-ta dhorbo? People have so many crises to worry about, they just get exhausted. When Hajjis die at the airport because of Biman chaos, you tell me which issue should people get upset about?" But exhausted or not, if people understood how a law can affect them, they would still take to the streets. A few years back, Grameen Phone raised the call rate (incoming calls as I recall) and soon there were mobs of subscribers protesting outside their office. Today, if Bangla link decided to serve a "Tok Komla" rather than a "Mishti" one with a rate increase, I would bet an angry mob would soon be throwing bricks through their windows. So people still have the capacity for outrage, it just needs to be channeled properly. Perhaps some feel that the law will be used only for "dabrano" of AL (and BNP when tables are turned), NGOs and activists. So as long as they keep their nose out of politics they are all right. But do things ever stay limited like that? At the height of Cold War paranoia, the United States was spying on innumerable numbers of its own citizens, and the FBI held voluminous sets of files on citizens (including people such as Martin Luther King). Is there any reason to believe that our government would behave any more reasonably?

There are now 9 Million Mobile Phones, and an additional 1 Million Land Phone subscribers in Bangladesh. Mobile phone usage exhibited 35% growth year by year for four years. It was probably statistics like this that inspired Goldman Sachs to place us on their list of "Next 11". Grameen, Bangla Link, Aktel, City Cell, and BTTB cell are now being joined by the Dhabi group. Approximately 36 licenses have also been given for private Land Phone lines. Of these four have already started business, including Rangs. As more private Mobile, Land and Internet companies enter the fray, a ferocious fight for customers will result in more services for lower prices. The Mobile Phone is already a semi-mass tool, no longer limited to the city middle class. The same will soon happen to Land Lines and maybe, hopefully, Internet access. According to communications entrepreneur Kamal Quadir, a World Bank report in 2003 predicted that the total addressable market in Bangladesh was only 13 Million. That prediction has already proved to be too anemic. If the current number is already 9 Million, I have no doubt it will double in next two years--which would be roughly 10% of the country's total population. As our world turns upside down, a huge amount of daily transactions--work, conversation, activism, buying and selling, etc--will pass through these communication lines. And the government will sit with the scary power to spy on every single movement.

Is it only activists who have to fear the government? Imagine this scenario. You are walking in Boshudnhara City mall, buying a drink, talking to friends, flirting with girls. In the midst of all this, someone calls your line and starts talking about politics. At some point, you make some casual joke about JMB. That night there is a knock on the door. Intelligence agencies are there, alerted by the recording to think you have some link with JMB. You are dragged away to Dhaka Central Jail. It takes a week for you to get a hearing in front of a judge. Unless your family is well connected, it may be weeks or months before you finally get out of jail and end this nightmare. Does this sound like a far-fetched scenario? Remember the young Hindu man who was accused of sending threatening e-mails to Sheikh Hasina from an Internet café? How long was he in jail before there was finally any due process? Do we really trust our governments (BNP or AL) when they tell us something is in the "national interest"?

So, do you still think this law doesn't affect you?

One last thought. The government claims these powers are necessary in order to stop suicide bombers. But is it phone surveillance that resulted in the recent captures? Or was it intelligence work, combined with JMB insiders who wanted to turn in their former comrades for reward money? In fact, the government has been trying to pass a law like this for a long time. According to research done by Asif Saleh of Drishtipat, on September 4, 2003, the Daily Star reported a move to amend the Bangladesh Telecommunication Act 2001, allowing intelligence agencies to tap telephone calls and e-mails. The report said, "A leading intelligence agency backed by others has initiated the move. The agencies also want access to the subscribers' database of all fixed phone and cellular phone service providers and the Internet service providers (ISPs)." This was in 2003. Two years later, the JMB bombings have given the excuse needed to push this through on a scared population.

Shahjalal University's Zafar Iqbal was one of the key individuals spearheading the campaign against unitary track education. It's time for thousands of such citizens, and the telecommunications companies, to step forward to oppose this amendment before it is ratified in January 2006. Bangladesh's Big Brother moment has arrived, but people power can still stop him.

Josh Tones & Suicide Bombers

Shobak: Naeem Mohaiemen — Wed, 1 Feb 2006 19:47:47 EST

"Because of the prohibition of all organizations in opposition to the "party" of the Shah, the opposition tended to gather in the mosques. This is particularly so for the peasant, the middle class, and even for the merchant class opposition to the regime of the Shah. Because of the failures of the Communist Party and radicals, even to attempt to organize opposition within the ranks of the [Iranian] working class, discontent surfaced at the mosques. Radical sermons were preached, which though cloudy and nebulous, were interpreted by the masses in their own fashion." Ted Grant, February 9, 1979

Violence-- nihilistic and escalating-- is not new to our Bangladeshi society which has oscillated between dictatorship and democracy for 34 years. But the nature (suicide bombers) and the source (militant Islamist groups) are perceived to be a "new equation". Evidence points to groups like JMB, but some parts of the puzzle remain unresolved. I abhor paranoid conspiracy theories, but the current crisis will not end with mass arrests and confessions from "JMB cadres". The real puppet-masters remain hidden.

At the same time, responsible activists cannot engage in these debates for too long-- because we quickly discover that our government is using the "hidden forces" theory as a justification for inaction. In the interest of pushing this administration to do something, anything, focus has to remain on the factors that are visible and in our control. That is to say: militant groups, unmonitored funding, arms smuggling, and madrasa education curriculum and post-madrasa unemployment.

Pause for a second to consider the psychology of the suicide bombers. Regardless of who has trained them, on an individual level they have rejected the escalating "modernity" project represented by the mushrooming of an aggressive consumerist culture (or you could argue consumerism has rejected them). The militant recruits can't afford to drink Coke, have Josh ring tones, buy bar-coded fruit at Agora or wear jeans from Westecs. Within their violent, anarchic program (what Tariq Ali calls "Islamo-anarchists") is also fury at an economic system that has left them behind.

It is tempting to dismiss militants as "mindless robots." On December 23d, I was with a group of activists who were witness to the latest anti-Ahmadiya rallies by the (now divided) Khatme Nabuwat. It was easy to comfort ourselves by looking at the faces and categorizing them as bribed or coerced. But what about those who truly believe they are in a war against jahiliya, represented by today's Bangladesh? Mere patronizing or stereotyping is not enough to deal with this growing faction. These groups are getting stronger precisely because we have provided no alternative. However JMB, Khatme Nabuwat, Harkat-ul-Jihad, Amra Dhakabashi, Allahr Dal, Lashkar e Taiba or other groups have sprung up (external funding, internal manipulation, neglect by government, ex-Shibir cadres who move on to more radical groups), we need to look at the failure of secular and/or left politics that has led to young, angry, poor men looking for answers elsewhere.

The rise of Political Islam is filling the vacuum left by the collapse of progressive politics. Today's left is toothless and fossilized (go to any party meeting and survey the average age of the room). For angry young men who want to fight an unjust society, the only remaining destination seems to be Political Islam. And for those who are impatient even with Jamaat's methodical Islamization program, militant groups offer armed uprisings to speed up the arrival of the Caliphate.

There is an ironic parallel between racial profiling of Western Muslims after 9/11, and our own profiling of Muslim militants. Bearded men in crowded public spaces seem to be cause for immediate alarm these days, as at a recent Public Library film screening where a musolli wandered in while looking for the namaj ghor. While we support law enforcement stopping militant groups, we must also make sure human rights are not violated in this process. If we start brutalizing every madrasa student as "the other", we will only drive them further into the arms of the militant groups. I was relieved that recent police action prevented Khatme Nabuwat from attacking the Ahmadiya mosque. At the same time, I worry that photos of Khatme workers being beaten by police (like the bloody photo Inqilab printed) will make them martyrs and attract new recruits. It is worth remembering how the Egyptian state's brutal repression of Muslim Brotherhood gave them hero status and increased their support. We must firmly stop violent militant groups, but we also have to make sure that our actions don't result in these groups getting sympathetic support.

On the surface, it appears that "mainstream" Islamist parties like Jamaat are hurt by all this. In the past, they always had to deal with the taint of 1971. But as time passes and memories fade (aided by an official policy of erasure), the rajakar label has lost edge as a political weapon. Today's Jamaat is well on its way to rebranding itself as a "moderate Muslim party." But, the theory goes, if bombings discredit Islamist politics Jamaat will pay the price at polls. But is that really true? Note how carefully Jamaat, through its political apparatus, and affiliated satellites like the Baitul Mokarram khatib, has spoken out against bombings. On a recent Friday, I found myself in the middle of a rally coming out from Katabon mosque. Post-Jumma prayer musollis raised loud chants: "bombaji kore jara/islamer shotru thara" (those who throw bombs/are enemies of islam). An emboldened Jamaat just held a mammoth anti-bombing rally in Paltan, advertised by rickshaw mikes blaring "Jamaat e Islami Jindabad!"

So now we have "factions" within Political Islam: you have Jamaat positioning itself as "good Islam" to differentiate from the "bad Islam" of the militant groups. The ground beneath our feet has shifted dramatically. All debate is happening within the paradigm of Islamist politics. Even secular politicians now feel obliged to quote from the Quran and say, "bombers are doing un-Islamic things". So militant groups have already succeeded-- the terrain has transformed to one where political rhetoric is confined within the Islamic framework. If Islamist politics is the all-encompassing box, the JMB bombings can benefit Jamaat as the "moderate" Islamists that speak "against" bombings. Recall a time in the near past when Jamaat meant Shibir which meant rajakar, rog-kata and ramda. Now all those signifiers of violence and intolerance have been neatly transferred from Jamaat to groups like JMB. Even the anti-Ahmadiya movement, which was Jamaat's first success in 1950s Pakistan, is now linked to Khatme. Jamaat's militant, street action model of the past has now been taken up by newer groups, and they are free to reinvent themselves as "tolerant democrats"!

As the debate bounces between "good" and "bad" Islam and the left fades out, the politics of economic justice have been obliterated. To give only one example, thousands of workers were fired when Adamjee Jute Mills closed down, but newspapers were dominated by debates over Arabization of Zia airport, French hijab ban, Ahmadiya Muslims, and Guantanamo Quran desecration.

In the middle of an unprecedented crisis, we are still stuck with the motifs of hartals, statements, blame games, and stalled investigations. BNP is already cornered by the current situation, but AL doesn't understand that if the country collapses, they won't be able to run it either. If a third force emerges that no one can predict or control, Bangladesh could turn into an international war zone. Unless we wake up to the need for national unity to stop the militant groups, even this far-fetched scenario could come true. If that happens, we will be living in a country where all the wrangling about strikes, parliament boycott, and caretaker government will seem like relics of a more innocent time.

Love in Cell Phone Time

Shobak: Naeem Mohaiemen — Wed, 1 Feb 2006 01:00:47 EST

Last week, the Bangladesh government launched another mini-salvo in their war against free speech. The New Year has already brought an amendment to the Telecommunications Act which gives intelligence agencies power to monitor, and stop, phone calls and e-mails in Bangladesh. These are only steps to police the political sphere. For the enactment of a total surveillance nation, the private sphere and especially the area of "loose morals" have to be brought under state control.

After all, we do trust our government to legislate morality.

Don't we?

In this spirit, a letter was sent this week to all five of Bangladesh's cellular phone companies from the Telecommunications Regulatory Commission, demanding that "free calls after midnight" offers be immediately shut off. According to press reports, this is to "protect the morals" of young people who were using the service to "form romantic attachments", "losing sleep" and indulging in "vulgar talk". I put quotes around almost every phrase in the preceding sentence because the source for all this data are "scores of complaints from parents" (sure...). The BBC's Ronald Buerk helpfully adds his own generalization-simplification, "Many people are conservative in Bangladesh".

All this teacup storming reminded me of our own times as "young people". We were also trying to form "romantic attachments", but more ineptly than today, and with fewer tools at hand. St Joseph, like all missionary schools, was single-sex, but our afternoons were brightened by the arrival of the Siddiqui girls. Siddiqui's was an English Medium school, preparing students to take the A Levels and go abroad. In those days (early '80s), Dhaka teens were divided into BMT (Bangla Medium Type = St Joseph, Shaheen School, Government Lab, etc) and EMT (English Medium Type = Scholastica, Green Herald, Maple Leaf, etc.). Siddiqui's was the rare EMT school without its own building, so they had to come to our school to use lab facilities. This meant we could get fleeting glimpses of girls, rare visions in our schoolyard.

In our pathetic, callow youth, we would wait around for hours after class ended in the hopes of that brief glance. But in all my time at St. Joseph, I don't recall a single person actually getting up the nerve to talk to one of the girls. All this unrequited swooning played havoc with our idea of relationships. Things got so bad that I was over the moon when an anonymous girl started calling my house. "Ami apnake kothai jani dekhechi" (I have seen you somewhere) was her coy flirtation and that was as hot and heavy as it got. But where had she seen me? WVA Meena Bazar? Newmarket? Elephant Road? The places to meet girls were very limited, so it could only be one of three places (this was before Aarong café added a fourth). But after a year of talking on the phone, I gave up because I realized that I had yet to meet her, and perhaps never would.

All this intense gender-segregation meant that when we finally got to co-ed Dhaka University, we had no idea what to do with ourselves. If you fell for someone, there was an elaborate ritual. You would let a male friend of yours know. He would then tell his friend who would tell the girl in question. Eventually through a daisy chain of whispered confidences you would figure out if all this was mutual. It was a slow, byzantine process.

All this sounds sweet-- innocent, bygone times, etc., but at the same time tremendously frustrating. There were few chances to meet and interact with women in a normalized setting. The first girl you fell for, you basically would have to marry, because there would be no second chances and no normal interaction outside marriage. You didn't date, you got married.

Through the decades, there were numerous interventions to ensure this suffocating condition continued. Recently I came across a photo from 1973 of my cousin in a band with local legend Bogey bhai (later founder of Renaissance). She was the tambourine girl and such innocent expressions of fun-loving high-jinks (think Josie & The Pussycats) were verboten. Similarly, Waves was a 70s rock band that faced morals tests. The sight of girls dancing on stage during the band's first and only appearance on television sent the guardians into a frenzy, with cries of "oposhongskrithi" banishing them from screens. It's especially worth remembering examples from the 1970s because, contrary to stereotype, virtue policing did not originate with the mullahs. In those days, it was the secularists that were up in arms, since their key plank was uber-Bangla nationalism. "Westernization" was the all-encompassing enemy; mullah politics still a twinkle in Jamaat's eye. From Abba to Boney M, everything disco was eventually hounded off the screens. One flash of Donna Summers' legs, and Solid Gold was also cancelled. For the rest of our school days, the only sanctioned music program was James Last's Orchestra (German friends are baffled to hear this today!). Later of course, political Islam came to be seen as a bigger threat, and some secularists embraced the same opo culture as a weapon to goad the maulvis.

The 1980s brought a fresh military dictatorship and a new legal enforcement against "free mixing of the sexes." Tinted glasses on cars were banned to prevent "opokormo". Special police squads roved the area around Parliament, hoping to catch young couples. The few friends who actually had girlfriends (there were not many!) developed the technique of driving to Airport Road while holding hands. As with any dynamic where law enforcement meets morality (look at the Iranian and Saudi virtue police), the clashes were ugly. Stories of young couples being brutally harassed by police officers were frequent. Unlike other situations, it was not in the hopes of a bribe-- the public humiliation was what the police relished.

Today there is a tendency in the West to fetishize arranged marriages. This is pushed along by a segment of the Asian diaspora that wants to promote things from "the old country" as inherently better than "modern life". Articles like "Looking for Love on Craigslist" (soon to be a book!) argue that since modern romance is so random, we may as well retreat and allow parents to arrange marriages again. Exhibit A may be a "successful" corporate lawyer, but at the end of the day he wants to come home to mummy, have her cook khichuri and find a girl just like her (and of course, she will be the same religion). Divorce rates are high today goes the argument, bring back the good old days. No one mentions that divorce rates are also a function of situations where single or divorced women can live productive, stigma-free lives on their own. Anyway, some of us have no interest in going back to the "old ways" of arranged marriages. Better to make our own mistakes and learn from them.

Thinking back to those suffocating school years, it makes me happy to see today's young Dhaka lovers. For the most part I only see people holding hands near Dhanmondi lake, more pda (public display of affection) is not here yet. Of course, all this enrages the vice squad. This Christmas, three police officers (one on motorcycle, two with bulky wirelesses) surrounded a young couple on a rickshaw and held them for interrogation outside our Dhanmondi gate. A crowd gathered, everyone was there to see the tamasha. When I came to protest, I was harshly told to mind my own business. "Era kharap lok, apni nak golaben na," (these are bad people, don't stick your nose in). There was almost a Roman spectacle to the episode. As if the young couple would now be fed to the lions.

Rokkhok jokhon bhokkok.

All this may seem trivial compared to "bigger" "life and death" issues we face, but culture wars are core struggles and often Trojan horses for larger battles. This is why the recent attempt to ban phone calls after midnight to stop teenage lovers bothers me so much. This is a nasty move that tries to stigmatize normal behavior and dictate an antique moral code. Relationship dynamics are slowly shifting in our urban centers. But there are people and forces (sometimes religious forces, but equally a city elite that is socially right-wing in spite of its pretences) that would like to turn the clock back. The problem they face is a genie out of the box, and they are now trying desperately to fold, tuck, nip, crinkle, and crush the new freedoms.

In earlier essays, I argued that people needed to urgently make the connection between the loss of civil liberties in one sphere (phone tapping) and the loss of liberty everywhere.

It's already starting...

Bangladesh Is Still Waiting For Mujib

Shobak: Naeem Mohaiemen — Tue, 31 Jan 2006 07:11:08 EST

On August 15 1975, a group of army officers burst into the residence of independent Bangladesh's first President Sheikh Mujib. After killing Mujib, the army officers proceeded to massacre his entire family. The 1975 coup ushered in an era of instability in Bangladesh-- repeated coups and counter-coups, two military dicatorships, and a fragile democracy today has left Bangladesh in a vulnerable state. Although Bangladesh was formed in rejection of the Islamic state of Pakistan, "secularism" was removed from the constitution and Islam was named the "state religion" during the military juntas of, respectively, Zia and Ershad. 30 years on, the debate over Mujib's legacy is bitter and partisan. On the ocassion of the 30th anniversary, members of the "new generation" of Bangladeshis were asked to talk about what Mujib means to them. These are my thoughts.

++++

Although born in 1969, I am technically part of the "post-71 generation." The struggles, debates and emotions that animated and divided our parents are an abstraction and learned memory for us. We are the first generation that has benefited from those struggles without having to go through sacrifices. At the same time, because of our distance and lack of personal involvement in the watershed years, we are perhaps best placed to start engaging in an open debate and analysis of our founding myths.

The fissures and divisions that are core to our history are most apparent in the controversy over the meaning of Sheikh Mujib. To some, he is Bongo Bandhu, Father of the Nation, the great national leader, an unassailable demi-god without flaws. To critics, he is a signifier for everything that went wrong at the outset-- an autocrat who ruthlessly crushed political dissent, and an inept administrator who failed to rebuild a war-ravaged nation. To the more academic or "neutral" observers, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman is a textbook case of the failure of Third World Charisma. Certain nations seem prone to throwing up leaders who are brilliant at raising emotions and bringing the masses together in moments of crisis, but are inept at the arduous task of running a country's day-to-day operations. About Mujib, the simplest summation can be that he won the war, but lost the peace. Of course Mujib's failure as a leader can never be used to justify the grisly murders of August 15. Those rogue military officers who carried out the coups were murderers and destroyers of democracy. No matter how much revisionist historians may deconstruct Mujib's flaws, this can never be used to exonerate the coup plotters.

In 1971, when the Pakistani army crackdown began, my father, an army doctor, had the bad luck of being posted in West Pakistan. As war raged on, Bengalis in West Pakistan were herded off to prison camp. My earliest memories are actually in Mondi Bahauddin camp. It wasn't until 1973 that the hundreds of Bengali families were repatriated to Bangladesh, as part of a prisoner exchange with the Pakistani POWs held inside India. We drove in my father's Volkswagen Beetle to the transition point, where we boarded German Fokker Friendships. I was very excited-- it was my first time on a plane. My mother, always prone to carsickness, was overcome by tension and threw up repeatedly along the side of the car. It was some kind of homecoming.

In many ways, we missed all the emotional ups and downs of Bangladesh's early years. We spent the war trapped in Pakistan. Subsequently, we missed Mujib's joyful homecoming, when the country was united in support behind him. By the time we returned to Bangladesh, the rot had set and Mujib's stature was in freefall. Corruption and mismanagement was everywhere, flood and famine gripped the country. Whether Mujib was personally honest or not, he certainly tolerated the rampant corruption of his entourage. In this, he showed a quintessentially Bangla trait, a tolerance for "chatukars" or sycophants.

In the mid 1970s, the Middle East started importing Bangla skilled labor, and my father was one of the first batches of doctors to be sent to Libya. It was while we were living in that hostile, desert nation that we received news of Mujib's assassination. My grandfather also passed away in that same period, and in my fractured memories, somehow the milad for my grandfather metamorphosed into a milad for Mujib.

Salman Rushdie later satirized Mujib's gruesome end in "Shame":
"Sheikh Bismillah, the architect of division, became chief of the junglees. Later, inevitably, they swarmed into his palace and shot him and his family full of holes. Sort of behavior one expects from types like that."
Rushdie of course was very thoroughly on the Bengali side (he later gave Benazir a tongue-lashing for her attempt to criticize Mujib in "Daughter of The East"), but the "Shame" of the title could very well have been directed at the Bangali nation. Mujib made many mistakes, but he never deserved this dog's death on the steps of "Number 32"-- machine-gunned down by his own soldiers, who proceeded to slaughter the entire family, trying to wipe out any successors.

Three decades have passed since summer 1975, but it is still difficult to have a rational discussion about Sheikh Mujib's legacy. Like all things in Bangladesh, opinions about him are trapped between two warring extremes. One side acknowledges no flaws, the other gives Mujib no credit. Some have gone as far as to erase the portion from Zia's independence speech where he says "on behalf of our great national leader Bangabandhu Sheikh Mujibur Rahman"-- as if that would obscure the fact of who won the 1970 election, and whose call first brought the Bengali masses to the streets.

Personally, I am the first to criticize Mujib's faults. Beyond BKSAL, there are three events I count as his greatest political failures. The first is the massacre of JSD leaders who dared to assemble at Dhaka University TSC for the first public revolt against the new Mujib government. The second is his infamous challenge, "Where today is Shiraj Shikdar?" (after the Sharbahara Party leader had been killed while in police custody). And finally, there was his paternalistic advice to the Pahari tribals of Chittagong Hill Tracts, "From today you are all Bengalis"-- setting the stage for the ethnic cleansing of CHT and the 30-year guerilla war in that region. But while I can critique Mujib, I also acknowledge that without his leadership at a crucial time, there would be no Bangladesh, no Bangladeshi nationalism, no green Bangladesh passport, and while we are at it, no Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP)-- who are today the sworn enemies of "Mujibism".

Elsewhere in the world, leaders have been re-evaluated without diminishing their achievements. Jinnah's legacy is now up for debate in India, with some Indians belatedly acknowledging his inaugural speech's promise of equal rights for minorities. Gandhi too is often debated-- some call him "Mahatma" and some don't, and that is permissible in that society's more open environment. In Western academia, starting from Jefferson and Washington's treatment of slaves, up to Churchill's divided legacy as a great wartime Prime Minister who was also a poisonous racist and beyond, anything is up for discussion. Most recently, new archives have revealed some of Lyndon B. Johnson's private prejudices, but those same researchers have credited him for finally pushing through Civil Rights legislation to give African Americans dignity and rights (something the far more popular JFK failed to do). By looking at all aspects of history, these leaders' achievements are not diminished-- rather we get a nuanced view of complex people and events.

In my generation, there seems to be a total exhaustion with the whole Mujib vs. Zia, Awami League vs. BNP debates and the controversies over "who gave the independence announcement first?" But it would be a mistake to turn away from history because of this. History writing is not a nation-building project that papers over unsightly cracks, but rather a search for the fullest truth about ourselves. The past is always prologue to our future. We are still waiting for a historian who can construct a truly critical history of Bangladesh's founding years, which has to include a proper accounting of Sheikh Mujib. Instead of trapping him between the polarities of hosannas and hate, we need a new history that looks at his flaws in historical context, but also acknowledges his gift to the nation.

Western Muslims Are Terrorists' "Collateral Damage"

Shobak: Naeem Mohaiemen — Mon, 30 Jan 2006 22:41:57 EST

Asif Saleh, director of a Bangladeshi human rights group Drishtipat, has a Bangla restaurant fixation. Whenever the group has a meeting, it ends up in a Bangladeshi restaurant. A recent meeting in London was, naturally, in Brick Lane. Surrounded by hordes of Bangladeshi restaurants, sari shops and music stores, we were at home and ready to talk about our group's work.

After lunch we strolled down to an outdoor cafe and sat and watched the crowds. Brick Lane is now a tremendously hip area and we watched the throngs of trendy Londoners do the rounds of expensive new fashion labels that were springing up right next to the Karai Houses.

Although bearing the trajectory of gentrification, Brick Lane will always stay Bangla Town. Apparently some of the landlords in the area are Bangladeshis, and they are determined to keep the area Bengali. As I looked at the crowds, I mused how much London had changed in four decades. Brick Lane is one of many manifestations of London's vibrant and visible Bengali community. Although New York has a strong Bangladeshi population as well (the group that had the fastest growth between 1990-2000), it's a relatively young migrant population. By contrast Britain's Bengali population dates back to the time of the colonial encounter. With roots in Britain that go back decades, they are part of a newly confident British Asian mosaic

When my father came to England in the 1960s, London was a nasty, brutish place for Asians. Bengalis waiting at bus stations would get attacked with broken bottles, and "Paki" became a familiar taunt. My friend Udayan's father recalls looking at newspaper ads for lodging that simply said, "No Smokers, No Dogs, No Indians." Politicians mirrored and magnified the rage on the streets. Enoch Powell's "rivers of blood" and racist election campaigns by the Tories paved the way for the 1970s, which was the decade of the ultra-right wing National Front (formed from an amalgam of League of Empire Loyalists, Racial Preservation Society, and Greater Britain Movement). By 1973, anti-Asian sentiments were at fever-pitch, buoyed by the masses of expelled Asians arriving from Uganda, and the National Front scored upwards of 16% votes in some local elections. The murder of Bengali tailor Altab Ahmed was a turning point, mobilizing the first ever "Rock Against Racism" concert, and galvanizing the left to form anti-Nazi coalitions to fight back against the xenophobic tide.

Although the NF was dogged by internecine conflict and accusations about a Nazi past, its poisonous ideology slowly seeped into the mainstream. The most famous convert was Thatcher, with her 1978 statement that white people were frightened of being "rather swamped" by people of "an alien culture." It was under Thatcherite England that draconian immigration laws were passed, including the elimination of citizenship through birth. But although the laws were moving towards less immigration, popular perceptions were shifting. The 1980s saw a surge of race riots, but Blacks and Asians also made headway in visible public arena, helping to soften public attitudes towards migrants. Hanif Kureishi, Goodness Gracious Me, Monica Ali, Nasser Hussain, Lord Ali, Prince Nasim, Meera Syal, Lord Dholakia, these were just some of the very public faces of the "new Britain". England's most popular dish is now chicken tikka, and Indian food (mostly run by Bangladeshis) is a multi-billion Pound industry with the average Briton going for Indian food once a week. Although still a drop in the bucket, events like "Africa '05", Arts Council's DECIBEL scheme, and Otolith Group's show on Black Audio Film Collective, would have been unthinkable ten years back. The last general election saw the active courting of the "Muslim vote", and Fifteen non-white MPs are now in Parliament.

But things can always change very quickly. Two days after my cheerful walk in Brick Lane, the London bombings shattered the bright mood of Britain 2005. Although much has been made about the fact that the bombers even targeted Liverpool Street (very near Brick Lane) and the heavily Arab Edgeware Road, and that one of the first victims was Shahara Islam, the bombings may indeed succeed in driving a wedge between British Muslims and the rest of the country. Politicians have repeatedly called for respecting diversity, Muslim clerics have condemned the bombings, and the general public has not shown a xenophobic hysteria. But it only takes a small, determined gang of racists to start race riots. We saw it before in Brixton and Bradford, and we may see it again. With the revelation that the prime suspects are British Asians from Leeds, the attacks on mosques are sure to grow. Most worrying is the specter of parties like the BNP which are already using anti-Muslim hatred as a key platform after 9/11-- their divisive campaigns are likely to get sharper and more effective. Less than a week after the attacks, the BNP has already used photos of the bombed London bus in an election leaflet for the Barking by-elections. The slogan next to the photo simply says, "Maybe now it's time to start listening to the BNP."

If groups like the Minutemen can change America's image from "immigration nation" to nation of vigilantes patrolling the US-Mexico border, why shouldn't it happen in England as well? The US at least started from a stance of welcoming immigration, from which it is now retreating. By contrast, England has never welcomed immigrants, and has only let them in grudgingly. An apocryphal story talks about a British Asian man who was confronted and asked who he was. "I'm the creditor" he said, referring to the centuries of exploitation of India that built the British empire. "We are here, because you were there" is a common cry in England and France, arguing that immigration is a minimum right in exchange for an exploitative colonial past. But that argument has never taken hold in the popular imagination. Anti-immigrant and Islamophobic sentiments remain a powerful tool for a resurgent right, already galvanized by Turkey's possible entry into the EU. The London bombers have handed them the ultimate propaganda weapon, and the fallout is just beginning.

All this makes me think of the bombers themselves. From Al Qaeda to Madrid to Leeds, the background and motivations of the bombers are varied, as is their educational and class background. But what do they hope to accomplish? Perhaps it all springs from the Lebanon theory-- make it too expensive for the "occupation" (wherever it may be) to continue. At another level, it is the "bring the war home" theory of Baader Meinhof and Brigasti Rossi. Whatever the (most likely mixed) theoretical inspiration, the resulting damage is highest on Muslims themselves. On a conventional level, you can argue that Afghan and Iraqi civilians who are dying are the victims of the 9/11 repercussions. But the single largest victims, the "collateral damage" of my title, are the Muslim migrants in the diaspora, particularly Europe and North America.

The ongoing civil rights violations of Western Muslims are well-documented. What is less well understood is the accompanying sea-change in attitudes towards immigration. Even before the London bombings, Europe had passed draconian and far-reaching immigration controls. The barriers to migration will only keep getting higher. In a globalized world, everything moves across borders, including people. Immigration is a basic fact of this century-- and it is always a positive force, for the migrants, for their new adopted homes, and for their country of origin. So migration will continue, but will be dramatically reduced by new security fears. Anti-immigrant groups have also found the perfect weapon-- instead of being bullying racists, they can now repaint themselves as super-patriots, only caring about the safety of the nation.

In any migration crackdown, all are affected, but the hardest hit will be Muslim migrants. Thus Al Qaeda and its children have single-handedly brought about the largest reversal of fortune in the lives of millions of Muslim immigrants in the West. Their attacks have created an environment where racial profiling, random detention and deportation are increasingly the norm. Reza Aslan has described the current conflagration as a civil war within Islam, where the West is only a bystander. It is certainly true that the greatest threat to radical Islamists come from progressive and modernizing Muslims. At the same time, the progressive Muslim agenda is the biggest victim of these attacks.

The extremist groups, though small in number, have launched flamboyant and public spectacles using modern tools of war. The response from the progressive majority in Islam is a muted mixture of condemnation and hand-wringing. More drastic measures are now necessary. I am reminded of London's Finsbury mosque, once a haven for radical Islamists. A group of moderates staged a counter-coup, seizing the board of the mosque and ousting the old guard. Direct confrontations like this need to be our new method. Islam is in the midst of a "civil war", and one side is fighting with genteel and ineffective weapons.