As the Monsoon Revolution carries the spirit of Amar Ekushey forward, it must also learn from it.
Every February, as we commemorate the language movement and our first revolution, Bangladesh reflects on who we are as a country. Amar Ekushey showed that Bengalis can demand the impossible and stand up for our inherent rights. Seven decades ago, the fight was about more than just our state language — it was about defining our identity, our self-respect, and our right to exist on our own terms.
This February is notable as the first since the 2024 Monsoon Revolution. Recent turbulent upheavals testify to the legacy of our first revolution, proving that even in the face of totalitarianism, Bangladeshis never backed down or bowed to oppression. Their audacity in toppling a dictator captured the essence of the language movement and honored the sacrifices of the language martyrs. Thus, as the Monsoon Revolution carries the spirit of Amar Ekushey forward, it must also learn from it.
The Revolutionary Shape of the Language Movement
A slow burn led the way to the conflagration of the Language Movement. It started quietly in 1948 before it became a mass uprising by 1952. There are several things to know about the Language Movement as a revolution.
Fundamental social change requires patience and persistent organizing. Revolutions demand careful organizing, building trust, and nurturing local networks. 1952 was transformative because it built on the careful work of previous years. Similarly, the Monsoon Revolution must lay down the seeds on which new organizations can be built — organizations that can ground any reform made by the interim government into Bangladeshi society itself.
Firstly, it began as a defiance that stood firm against the odds. In 1948, at the Constituent Assembly’s first meeting, East Pakistani representative Dhirendranath Datta questioned why Bangla (the language of the majority) was not made a state language. His request was dismissed and condemned by the mujahirelites, who favored Urdu as Pakistan’s unifying language. Fazlur Rahman, the then-Minister of the Interior, extolled Urdu as the “special creation of Muslims in India,” and Liaqat Ali Khan, the Prime Minister, warned that Pakistan would not survive without Urdu as the lingua franca.
Secondly, the movement grew gradually as more people began to see that the issue was never just about language. Initially championed by students and intellectuals at Dhaka University, the call for linguistic rights spread from the campus to the streets. In fact, in the early years, as Badruddin Umar has pointed out, student activists in the language movement were often attacked by people in Dhaka. Through the organizing work of trade unions and professional organizations, ordinary people — from factory workers to small shopkeepers — realized that demanding recognition for Bangla was a stand against a system that sought to erase their culture and their civic rights.
Thirdly, the turning point of February 21, 1952, was essential for what it came to mean as a symbol for the people of Bangladesh. When the government fired on protesters defying the Section 144 Ordinance, killing several, the slain came to be known as bhasha shaheeds, or Language Martyrs. An editorial on the first anniversary compared February 21 to Karbala — a central Islamic symbol of injustice — and promised that the sanctified ideals of the movement could never be denied because they were ideals “in the blood of martyrs are immortal.”
The creation of the Shaheed Minar, erected across the country to honor these martyrs, was so effective as a symbol because it provided different groups with a common sign to speak with. Women, children, villagers, and students alike could express themselves by putting up these monuments — usually overnight and hidden from security forces. Pillars commemorating the dead — the first Shaheed Minars were pillars — were common in both Muslim and Hindu communities. M R Mahbub has recorded about 32 Shaheed Minars erected across various districts between 1952 and 1956; doubtless, there had been more, but their memories have likely been forgotten.
Fourthly, the movement succeeded because it transformed its popular momentum into political success. In the 1954 provincial election, the United Front’s 21-point manifesto included three demands related to the language movement, and their landslide victory forced a change. By 1956, Bangla and Urdu were officially recognized as state languages in Pakistan’s first constitution. More than a legislative victory, the language movement thus redefined the identity of the Bengali people, affirming that our shared language, culture, and history became the pillar of our national identity.
Fifthly, and most importantly, the revolution of the Language Movement reminds us that the fight for justice is never truly over. While the state’s recognition of Bangla in 1956 was an important recognition of the rights of the people, the deeper struggle for equality and respect continues. Today, linguistic equality still eludes us. English dominates elite spaces, while indigenous languages face neglect and threat. Bangla is less a language of expression and more a cudgel to call other Bengalis suspects.
Lessons for the 2024 Monsoon Revolution
We can draw three clear lessons from the Language Movement for the situation Bangladesh finds itself in today.
Fundamental social change requires patience and persistent organizing. Revolutions demand careful organizing, building trust, and nurturing local networks. 1952 was transformative because it built on the careful work of previous years. Similarly, the Monsoon Revolution must lay down the seeds on which new organizations can be built — organizations that can ground any reform made by the interim government into Bangladeshi society itself.
Symbolism also matters. Inspiring iconography is powerful because people can adopt it to express themselves and become part of the change they want to see. This is all the more important given that recent viral images out of Bangladesh paint the aims of the Monsoon Revolution as anarchy and an emergent Islamicism. This revolutionary moment would do well to find its own Shaheed Minars to commemorate all the Abu Sayeds who have stood up to tyranny this time around. We must also avoid negative symbols — the viral images of the mob razing Bangabandhu’s house not only create bad optics but also enervate the revolutionary spirit.
Finally, activism must evolve into organized political bodies. Establishing a party out of the anti-discrimination movement is crucial. Without a political party representing this movement, the old political parties may retake power, merely replacing one corrupt regime with another. The faces and names will change, but the system of corruption and exploitation will remain.
The Bangladesh that Amar Ekushey promised was one of liberation, not just independence. The Monsoon Revolution must create a nation that lives up to that promise. The work ahead is immense, but the history of 1952, 1971, 1990, and 2024 shows that the Bangladeshi people cannot be held down for long. The people cannot be silenced by fear imposed by the ruling class. As we observe Amar Ekushey this February, the people of Bangladesh have a chance to honor its spirit by building a truly free country.
Image Credit: “Shaheed Minar, Sylhet 2022” by Mahdi Hasan Pabel, licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
