Lessons from 1971

The writer holds a PhD from the University of Birmingham, UK and works in Islamabad.

The 50th birth anniversary of Bangladesh in Dec 2021 passed generally unobserved in Pakistan. There were a couple of attempts to recall the events leading to the breakup of Pakistan, but most of them were a regurgitation of the official narrative in the country prevalent since 1971.

Educational institutions in Pakistan are not birthplaces of new ideas, nor machines that churn out new and critical research in social sciences, including history. Those who question the officially imposed narrative, especially about the role West Pakistan played in the tragic events of 1971 in East Pakistan, do it at their own peril. Any attempts to recount the sad days of that fateful year are met with derision. Officially, there is a renewed effort to blame everything either on politicians – such as Bhutto and Mujib – or on the ‘eternal enemy of Pakistan’ that is India.

In this column, there is neither editorial freedom nor space to give the details and call a spade a spade. Perhaps it is better to focus on some of the lessons that may be useful for students of history. So, the first lesson starts with the formation of ‘One Unit’ in 1955. All provinces and administrative units of West Pakistan were dissolved, and the central government introduced the One Unit scheme by forming just one province of West Pakistan. Even more devastating was the Parity Principle – according to which East and West Pakistan became equal in representation, but not in resource allocation.

East Pakistan had 55 percent of the total population of Pakistan, but it was given equal representation in the 1956 constitution. The One Unit and its Parity Principle lasted for 15 years till 1970 and during those years, the West Pakistan civil and military bureaucracy prevailed in all economic, political, and social decision-making. In the absence of any representative government, the military dictatorship of General Ayub Khan had the final say in nearly all matters related to both East and West Pakistan. For 15 years, in the name of uniformity, all cultural, democratic, ethnic, and social aspirations of the people of Pakistan were crushed with an iron hand.

Ultimately, One Unit which was a symbol of unjustified uniformity and undemocratic parity failed – and did so miserably. It sparked alienation in the people of Pakistan especially belonging to the eastern wing where Bengalis resented the domination of the West Pakistani civil-military elite. So, the first lesson is: if you want to save your country, never try to impose uniformity on a diversity of people. If you concentrate too much power at the centre, things start falling apart as they did in 1971 in (former) East Pakistan which fought to go its own way.

Punjab, because of its controlling position in the bureaucracy and its representation in the army, wielded great influence in national affairs. After 1947, migrants from India to East Pakistan were mostly Urdu-speaking. This flared up an ethnic dimension in the drama being unfolded in East Pakistan in 1971. When the people of East Pakistan tried to assert their democratic right, they had to face resistance from the West Pakistani civil-military elite. This ultimately turned out to be Bengali versus Punjabi-Urdu tussle which resulted in violence claiming thousands, if not millions of lives. So, the next lesson is about ethnic domination.

If one or two ethnic groups or nationalities have a disproportionate representation in the civil and military bureaucracy, it will create an active resistance from other groups. In all federal authorities, departments, institutions, and ministries, there has to be an equitable distribution of jobs. That was not the case with the former East Pakistan and this is not so even in today’s Pakistan. This is a serious matter and has to be resolved sooner or later.

The next lesson may be drawn from some successful federations around the world. In a good and functioning federation there has to be a balance – which is an essential requirement for its success. The administrative, economic, and political powers have to be equitable. An absence of such balance results in a tug of war for resources, if they are controlled by the central government without consensus from the federating units. In 1971, this became highly pronounced in East Pakistan whose people were being shortchanged in the name of national security and unity.

A disrespect for some basic principles of a federation had pushed Sheikh Mujibur Rehman to articulate the demands of East Pakistan in the Six Points of the Awami League. The central government had failed to introduce Bangla as a national language and there was unjust allocation of natural resources. There was low representation of Bengalis in the central services, particularly in higher positions. And all this provided the backbone to the Six-Point Formula. The lesson is not to repeat the same mistakes, and to avoid similar resentments in today’s Pakistan. Listen, when people speak, rather than giving them a patriotic potion.

All languages of Pakistan deserve respect, preservation, and promotion. All major languages have a right to be declared national languages. At least 10 languages in today’s Pakistan: Balochi, Brahui, Balti, Hindko, Pashto, Punjabi, Saraiki, Sindhi, Shina, and Urdu have a right to be spoken in parliament, of course with adequate translation facilities – which are not hard to arrange in the 21st century. If we want to learn lessons from 1971, respect for all languages should be a significant lesson. No condescending attitudes please towards speakers of languages other than English and Urdu.

The next lesson is not to underestimate the gravity of the situation when the facade is crumbling. In 1971, our rulers showed a deplorable lack in understanding the developing scenario. And the rulers were not Bhutto and Mujib – as the state-sanctioned narrative now wants us to accept and believe. Generals Ayub Khan and Yahya Khan and their coteries’ approach towards this problem was inadequate. It is true that the politicians did play their role, but there was more myopia at top positions not held by the politicians, as they were not the decision-makers in the state machinery.

The events of 1971 also teach us to remember the laws of holes. The first law states: “if you find yourself in a hole, stop digging”. Digging a hole makes it deeper, and therefore harder to get out of. Which means that when you are in an untenable position, it is better to stop making the situation worse. That’s precisely what the rulers of Pakistan did in 1971. They kept digging and made the situation worse not only for themselves but for all involved. General people and common soldiers suffered the most.

The second law of holes is: “when you stop digging, you are still in a hole”. It means you can’t just sit there, as General Yahya Khan did during the last days of the war which resulted in an ignominious defeat. No amount of whitewash can change this fact of history. There were still sensible voices that were suggesting a political solution by negotiation and peaceful transfer of power to the majority party, which was the Awami League led by Mujibur Rehman. Depriving a political party of its majority to favour another is like digging the hole deeper. The lesson is to not hasten the process of disintegration.

Finally, the last lesson is to learn how to examine and judge the situation not from a high pedestal, but from among the people – from activists and journalists; from intellectuals and writers; the ones who are not paid and nurtured, but those who dare speak the truth.

The writer can be reached at: mnazir 1964@yahoo.co.uk