The spirit of Mujibnagar government can still guide us

The inauguration of the Mujibnagar government had given the liberation war and our freedom fighters institutional legitimacy. The government in exile was sworn with the Proclamation of Independence as the Red and Green fluttered in the light breeze at Baiddanathtala on April 17, 1971. At the risk of repeating of cliché, it was a red-letter day.

Despite the threat of an air strike, a large crowd had gathered to witness the event. They burst into cheers and applause, shouting the full-throated "Joy Bangla," and sang the national anthem. The Proclamation of Independence, announced that day, also served as the interim constitution of Bangladesh from March 26, 1971, to December 16, 1972, until the adoption of the formal constitution.



It envisioned a republic built on the principles of equality, human dignity, and social justice. But more than five decades later, those lofty ideals remain, for the most part, unfulfilled. Bangladesh has made undeniable progress as economic and social indicators will show in terms of our GDP, infrastructure, literacy or fertility.

Yet, beneath these encouraging statistics lies a deepening divide—an ever widening chasm between the privileged and the powerless. Bangladesh's income-related Gini Coefficient—a global standard for measuring inequality—rose to 0.499 in 2022, up from 0.

482 in 2016 and 0.458 in 2010, according to the Household Income and Expenditure Survey of 2022. A Gini index of 0 represents perfect equality, while an index of 1 indicates perfect inequality.

One would hardly need to show that our Gini index is excruciatingly inching past the 0.5 mark to establish that a larger share of the nation's wealth is becoming concentrated in fewer hands. It should be plainly obvious.

However, the numbers help us realis the extent of disparity as they point it out clearly. That same household survey revealed that the top five percent households control 30.04 percent of total income in 2022—a rise from 27.

82 percent in 2016. In contrast, the bottom five percent households hold a mere 0.37 percent in 2022, up slightly from 0.

23 percent in 2016. These numbers are more than just statistics—they are reflections of broken promises, growing inequality, and a generation frustrated at the lack of opportunities to fulfil their potential. Human dignity, as envisioned in 1971, implies more than survival.

It means respect, fairness, and freedom. But these values have been steadily eroded by such phenomena (and that too state sponsored) like enforced disappearances, extrajudicial killings, and the clampdown on freedom of expression. Healthcare and education—once thought to be universal rights—have become commodified and more of a privilege for only those with deep pockets.

Their rising costs continue to cripple countless households. The dream of social justice, a society where rights, opportunities, and resources are shared equitably, feels more like a distant slogan than a living reality. Even more elusive is the promise of 'no discrimination based on gender, class, disability, and political allegiance'.

Instead of fulfilling the dream, the post-liberation years witnessed single-party domination of politics, military coups, counter-coups, and waves of undemocratic governance. Corruption, authoritarianism, and the abuse of power repeatedly undermined the dreams of 1971. The meaning of the Liberation War began to fade, buried under unmet expectations and systemic failure.

The war—our most powerful national compass—is increasingly being weaponized for partisan gain. Rather than uniting the nation, it has become a source of political division. The historical narrative of liberation war has been monopolized, often shaped by a single dominant party claiming sole ownership of the struggle.

In the absence of a widely accepted and inclusive version of national history, confusion has taken root. A distorted sense of identity has emerged, as successive governments reshape the past to serve their present interests. Still, every now and then, hope rekindles.

During the recent mass uprising—led by students and citizens united in their demand to dethrone autocrat Sheikh Hasina—a familiar cry echoed across the country—a cry for justice, equality, and democracy. These movements remind us that the ideals of 1971 have not been entirely lost. The spirit of 1971 can still guide us.

The dream of a nation that is free, just, secular, democratic, and inclusive is still within reach—but only if we are willing to fight for it. The inauguration of the Mujibnagar government had given the liberation war and our freedom fighters institutional legitimacy. The government in exile was sworn with the Proclamation of Independence as the Red and Green fluttered in the light breeze at Baiddanathtala on April 17, 1971.

At the risk of repeating of cliché, it was a red-letter day. Despite the threat of an air strike, a large crowd had gathered to witness the event. They burst into cheers and applause, shouting the full-throated "Joy Bangla," and sang the national anthem.

The Proclamation of Independence, announced that day, also served as the interim constitution of Bangladesh from March 26, 1971, to December 16, 1972, until the adoption of the formal constitution. It envisioned a republic built on the principles of equality, human dignity, and social justice. But more than five decades later, those lofty ideals remain, for the most part, unfulfilled.

Bangladesh has made undeniable progress as economic and social indicators will show in terms of our GDP, infrastructure, literacy or fertility. Yet, beneath these encouraging statistics lies a deepening divide—an ever widening chasm between the privileged and the powerless. Bangladesh's income-related Gini Coefficient—a global standard for measuring inequality—rose to 0.

499 in 2022, up from 0.482 in 2016 and 0.458 in 2010, according to the Household Income and Expenditure Survey of 2022.

A Gini index of 0 represents perfect equality, while an index of 1 indicates perfect inequality. One would hardly need to show that our Gini index is excruciatingly inching past the 0.5 mark to establish that a larger share of the nation's wealth is becoming concentrated in fewer hands.

It should be plainly obvious. However, the numbers help us realis the extent of disparity as they point it out clearly. That same household survey revealed that the top five percent households control 30.

04 percent of total income in 2022—a rise from 27.82 percent in 2016. In contrast, the bottom five percent households hold a mere 0.

37 percent in 2022, up slightly from 0.23 percent in 2016. These numbers are more than just statistics—they are reflections of broken promises, growing inequality, and a generation frustrated at the lack of opportunities to fulfil their potential.

Human dignity, as envisioned in 1971, implies more than survival. It means respect, fairness, and freedom. But these values have been steadily eroded by such phenomena (and that too state sponsored) like enforced disappearances, extrajudicial killings, and the clampdown on freedom of expression.

Healthcare and education—once thought to be universal rights—have become commodified and more of a privilege for only those with deep pockets. Their rising costs continue to cripple countless households. The dream of social justice, a society where rights, opportunities, and resources are shared equitably, feels more like a distant slogan than a living reality.

Even more elusive is the promise of 'no discrimination based on gender, class, disability, and political allegiance'. Instead of fulfilling the dream, the post-liberation years witnessed single-party domination of politics, military coups, counter-coups, and waves of undemocratic governance. Corruption, authoritarianism, and the abuse of power repeatedly undermined the dreams of 1971.

The meaning of the Liberation War began to fade, buried under unmet expectations and systemic failure. The war—our most powerful national compass—is increasingly being weaponized for partisan gain. Rather than uniting the nation, it has become a source of political division.

The historical narrative of liberation war has been monopolized, often shaped by a single dominant party claiming sole ownership of the struggle. In the absence of a widely accepted and inclusive version of national history, confusion has taken root. A distorted sense of identity has emerged, as successive governments reshape the past to serve their present interests.

Still, every now and then, hope rekindles. During the recent mass uprising—led by students and citizens united in their demand to dethrone autocrat Sheikh Hasina—a familiar cry echoed across the country—a cry for justice, equality, and democracy. These movements remind us that the ideals of 1971 have not been entirely lost.

The spirit of 1971 can still guide us. The dream of a nation that is free, just, secular, democratic, and inclusive is still within reach—but only if we are willing to fight for it..