A photograph, a President and the politics of November 7

I grew up in a quiet village in Bangladesh's far north, in a farming family that lived comfortably by the standards of the time. The country was newly independent. I was approaching the end of primary school, walking along narrow dirt roads with other children from the neighbourhood.

I understood little about politics. But I understood that something was wrong. The adults were worried. After sunset, five or six village elders would gather in our sitting room. Their conversations were serious, sometimes prolonged. I could not follow much of what they said, but their faces betrayed their anxiety.

My father regularly travelled to town on business. He would return with household necessities and a newspaper. I had developed the habit of reading whatever I could understand. Then came November 1975.

One evening, the elders gathered again. This time, their mood was different. There was excitement in their conversations. The following day, my father returned from town carrying a newspaper. On the front page was a photograph of a man in military uniform, surrounded by jubilant soldiers and civilians.

I remember staring at that picture. The man was Ziaur Rahman.

I did not know much about him then. I knew even less about the events that had brought him into the spotlight. But the photograph stayed with me. It was my first introduction to a political figure who would later shape much of my understanding of Bangladesh.

As I grew older, I began to understand the events of November 7, 1975, and the political upheaval that preceded them. Bangladesh was barely four years old. Its independence had been won at an enormous human cost. Yet the country was already struggling with political violence, institutional instability and competing claims to power.

The assassination of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman in August 1975 had plunged the country into a succession of military and political crises. The events of November 7, involving soldiers and civilians, brought Ziaur Rahman out of confinement and placed him at the centre of a new political order.

The day would become known as National Revolution and Solidarity Day.

Its interpretation remains contested. That is part of Bangladesh's history, too. But for those who saw Ziaur Rahman as a figure capable of restoring stability, November 7 represented a decisive political turning point. I belong to that generation.

Yet remembering the significance of a historical event should not prevent us from examining what followed it, or from asking what its lessons mean today.

Ziaur Rahman was a sector commander during the Liberation War. His subsequent political career introduced ideas and institutions that would have lasting consequences for Bangladesh.

His emphasis on Bangladeshi nationalism, multiparty politics, agricultural production and economic development helped shape the country's political direction. His legacy deserves to be studied in its full historical context, rather than reduced to the slogans that have come to dominate so much of our political discourse.

For me, the most relevant question is what the ideals associated with November 7 demand of us now. Bangladesh has undergone another major political transition. The country has emerged from nearly a decade and a half of authoritarian rule, during which democratic institutions were weakened, political competition was restricted and public confidence in the electoral process suffered.

Restoring democracy requires more than replacing one government with another. It requires rebuilding institutions that can withstand political pressure. It requires an independent judiciary, an accountable administration, credible elections and the protection of fundamental rights.

It also requires political restraint.

A democratic government must accept that criticism is legitimate, opposition is necessary and disagreement is not disloyalty. These principles cannot depend on which party happens to hold office. The responsibility is particularly important for those of us serving in the government led by Prime Minister Tarique Rahman.

As the son of Ziaur Rahman and the late former Prime Minister Khaleda Zia, he carries a substantial political inheritance. But political inheritance alone cannot establish public trust. That must come from the performance of his government.

People expect jobs, economic security, functioning public services and a political system in which their votes matter. They expect the government to deliver.

The task is substantial. Bangladesh must expand employment, improve agricultural productivity, support industrial growth and ensure that economic development reaches communities long excluded from its benefits.

My responsibilities at the Ministry of Water Resources have reinforced this understanding. For millions of Bangladeshis, the management of rivers, canals, wetlands and other water resources is directly connected to economic survival.

Riverbank erosion can destroy a family's land in a matter of days. Floods can wipe out crops and livelihoods. Poor drainage can leave communities exposed to prolonged waterlogging. Inadequate water management can undermine agricultural production and local economies.

Addressing these problems requires planning, investment and administrative accountability. It also requires attention to regions that have historically received less public investment.

Panchagarh and the wider northern region have considerable agricultural and economic potential. Better transport links, improved water management and stronger local infrastructure can help translate that potential into higher incomes and more opportunities.

The interests of these communities must be reflected in national development priorities. But development cannot be separated from the quality of governance. Public investment must be transparent. Institutions must be answerable for their decisions. Citizens must have the means to question those who exercise authority on their behalf.

A government that seeks to strengthen democracy must be prepared to subject itself to democratic scrutiny. This is where the meaning of national solidarity becomes especially relevant. Solidarity does not require political uniformity. It does not mean that citizens must agree on history, ideology or the policies of the government.

It means recognizing that people with different political convictions have an equal stake in the country's future.

Bangladesh's political history contains enough examples of the damage caused when disagreement becomes hostility and political competition becomes a struggle to exclude opponents altogether.

We should not repeat those mistakes. National unity is meaningful only when it allows political differences to exist within a shared constitutional framework.

The state must belong equally to those who support the government and those who oppose it. That principle should guide our efforts to rebuild democratic institutions, protect voting rights and establish the rule of law.

As another November 7 approaches, I find myself returning to the newspaper photograph I first saw as a schoolboy. More than half a century has passed. I have since come to understand the political circumstances surrounding that image, the significance of Ziaur Rahman's emergence and the debates that continue over his legacy.

The memory has accompanied me throughout my political life. It has also influenced my understanding of public responsibility.

—

Farhad Hossain Azad is a politician of Bangladesh Nationalist Party (BNP). He currently serves as the State Minister for Water Resources