Beyond the optics

Countless words, both in ink and keystrokes, have been dedicated to discussing the extraordinary mise-en-scènes of Muslims guarding temples in Bangladesh in the wake of a mass uprising that brought down an authoritarian regime. Both in national and international media, such striking images have been lauded as the quintessence of interfaith solidarity that supposedly defines Bangladesh. Hardly any reflection, however, has been done as to what prompted the majority community to offer its protection to minority religious establishments. Protection from whom and protection against what? 

One predictable, even if clichéd, response would be to argue that the religious minorities, perceived as the vote bank of the Awami League, faced the risk of retaliation and hence required protection. However, considering the circumstances under which the last three national elections took place, this argument no longer holds sway. In none of these elections did the Awami League need the minority vote to cling to power. On each occasion, electoral fraud on a massive scale did the trick. Ergo, this time around, Hindus and other minorities have not suffered the level of violence they are otherwise accustomed to whenever the Awami League is ousted from power.

Still, some will insist that retaliation as such, perhaps engineered by the Awami League, could not be ruled out, and it was prescient of the majority community to hold vigilance. But then again, the timing seems awkward. No such protection was provided to any of the minority religious establishments during the heyday of the revolution. Arguably, the Awami League was in a better position during the entire month of July to add a communal twist to the unrest by having its henchmen attack a few temples and divert the world’s attention. 

Even on the afternoon of August 5th — the day Hasina took flight — when Sheikh Mujib’s statues were being toppled nationwide and Awami League establishments were coming under attack, nobody thought of protecting the minorities because there were no credible reports of minorities coming under attack except a few Hindus affiliated with the Awami League. 

It was only during the evening of that fateful day that a frenzy gripped Bangladeshi social media users. Members of the majority Muslim community urged one another to hit the streets in strength to protect minority religious establishments. By that time, however, the Awami League activists were fleeing for their lives and were hardly in a position to orchestrate attacks on minority establishments, even if they may have been egged on by some of their leaders. 

If, for a moment, we entertain the possibility that it was not the Awami League nor their political opponents the minorities needed protection from, then who were they protected against? We may recall that on that same evening, there was a massive disinformation campaign launched on social media by right-wing Hindu nationalists from across the border claiming that Hindus were under attack in Bangladesh. 

When we take these two factors into consideration, we are led to one logical conclusion: that the vigilance demonstrated by a few members of the majority community was hardly about protecting the minorities. If anything was safeguarded, it was not the temples but the image of Bangladesh’s majority Muslim community that was being besmirched in front of the entire world. If anything was projected, it was not Bangladesh’s religious diversity but the magnanimity of its religious majority.

But, even if this is the case, surely, it is not a bad thing considering the pressing circumstances, one might ask? To see why it had untoward consequences, let us first consider the positions of political parties across the ideological spectrum on this issue. Islamic party leaders have praised such spontaneous initiatives and reminded their coreligionists that they have a religious duty to protect religious minorities. Leaders of secular parties and even representatives of the interim government have similarly expressed their approval and encouraged minorities to no longer consider themselves second-class citizens and live as equals in a new Bangladesh.

The problem is that invoking any religious duty to protect religious minorities flies in the face of the idea of equal citizenship. The theo-democracy that some Islamic political parties want Bangladesh to transform into will not guarantee equal rights to its religious minorities. It is precisely because of their inferior status that these minorities will require the protection (dhimma) of the religious majority. The question then becomes: are we willing to accept such an arrangement even if it contradicts the doctrine of democratic equality. And can the religious minorities have any say in this?

Nor is the appeal made by secular leaders to the minority communities to see themselves as equal citizens any less problematic. Unless they are being treated as equals, no amount of self-convincing on the part of the minorities will alter the status quo. For a long time, with a dwindling minority population and a state-endorsed official religion in place, Bangladesh has not been in a position to guarantee equality to its minorities. This message to them to live as equals thus rings hollow and only signals that both those in positions of power and those seeking power are shirking their responsibilities.

But suppose that in a post-authoritarian democratic Bangladesh, religious minorities are allowed to live as equals. What would that look like? To begin with, they will assume the primary responsibility of defending their homes and religious establishments should the law enforcement agencies go missing. This means that we will not see a repeat of the events of August 5th evening, even if they make for good optics. And there is no reason to believe that these minorities cannot defend themselves against an even tinnier minority of extremists, for most Bangladeshi Muslims are nothing but peace-loving citizens who bore their non-Muslim compatriots no ill will. 

This would also mean that these minorities will no longer have any truck with the soi-disant minority leaders who, while claiming to represent them, secretly serve the interests of ousted demagogues and their foreign patrons. Communal slogans such as Jai Shree Ram will no longer be heard at protest rallies, nor will these rallies provide safe refuge to members of the previous regime. For all this to happen, we will also need to forge transnational solidarity across the length and breadth of the subcontinent, where people of all faiths will join hands and resist the scourge of communalism that knows no borders and has for long warped our social and moral fabrics. Easier said than done, but what other choice do we have?●

Siddhartha Dhar is a Bangladeshi writer.