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print versionTwo book reviews of Dead Reckoning: Memories of the 1971 Bangladesh War
by Sarmila Bose
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 8, Issue 32, Dated 13 Aug 2011
She Does Not Know Best
Sarmila Bose’s irrational biases and hubris spoil all her research into the 1971 Bangladesh war, says Urvashi Butalia
IN HER BOOK, Sarmila Bose explains how she arrived at its title. Dead reckoning, she says, was a term used by war-time pilots to describe how by going in a direction for a certain time in a certain way, one could arrive at the destination. She likens this to her own journey in exploring the 1971 liberation war of Bangladesh — being rigorous in research, using evidence and corroboration, attempting to chart a straight and true path.
There’s little doubt that Bose has done considerable research and that her interviews include people from all sides — the Bangladeshi fighters, those for unity and those for independence, Pakistani army personnel, families of those dead, Bihari and other Hindus and more. This wealth of material had the makings of a nuanced and empathetic account. But here’s where the book disappoints.
Whether dealing with the March 1971 military action or the Dhaka University attack or Operation Searchlight, Bose poses the fundamental query of how come the Bengalis say one thing (and sometimes more than one thing, and often these are conflicting), the Pakistanis another (and there are conflicts here too) and the Indians (when she has managed to talk to them) a third. Where does the truth really lie?
As questions go, this isn’t unusual (the author surprisingly seems to think it is) — virtually all studies of war and conflict question how different versions of the ‘truth’ come to be, how, at such times, people’s memories of the same incident differ, often in radical ways, and also how situations are never what they seem, nor is the promise of a ‘clean’ nationalism ever fulfilled. What is unusual are the conclusions Bose seems to reach from many of these inquiries.
[ Dead Reckoning: Memories of the 1971 Bangladesh War
by Sarmila Bose Hachette India
250 pp; Rs 495 ]
For her, Bangladeshi nationalism was a flawed nationalism — look at the state of the nation today — and in the end it was, tragically, his own people who killed Bangladesh’s founding father Sheikh Mujibur Rahman. But she fails to ask the obvious question: how does that exonerate Pakistani aggression? She speaks to Pakistani officers who say they were restrained, often surprised by the hostility to them, that they did not commit genocide, their armies did not rape — or at least not in as large numbers as has been claimed — and she unproblematically believes them on the strength of what they say, an all-too obvious bias that gives the lie to the claim of non partisanship.
For me, some of her arguments intrigue but they do not hold: all nationalisms are flawed, attacking armies often make themselves out to be innocent, but even Bose’s focus on restraint and smaller numbers than has so far been believed cannot take away from, say, the systematic killings at Dhaka University, or the evidence of rape provided by women. Arithmetic is not everything, and whether or not 1971 was a liberation struggle or a civil war depends on the perspective from which you look at that history. Bose’s bias here is painfully evident in the language she deploys — Bangladeshi accounts are labelled “claims†, Pakistani officers’ accounts are straightforward accounts (see pp 142-45).
There’s also an odd kind of hubris. All scholars who think they are bringing something new to a certain history express dissatisfaction with what has gone before. But I’ve known very few — perhaps none — who claim their work is not only unique, as Bose does, because it addresses ignored aspects, but that it’ll remain so for all time to come. No doubt there will be other studies that will add to the knowledge, but hers, she says, will stand apart. “Two vital elements that breathe life into this book will be missing†she writes. “The people who lived out the conflict at the ground level will have passed away, and future authors will not have the inexpressible connection that I have with 1971.†Bose’s book may be many things, but unique and non-partisan it is not. The pity is that it could so well have been.
Subcontinental drift
15 July 2011
by Salil Tripathi
Does the controversial book about Bangladesh’s war of liberation uncover new truths, or simply reverse old biases?
It is an article of faith in Bangladesh that three million people died in its war of independence in 1971. At that time, the population of the former East Pakistan (which became Bangladesh) was about 70 million people, which means nearly 4% of the population died in the war. The killings took place between 25 March, when Pakistani forces launched Operation Searchlight, and mid-December, when Dhaka fell to the invading Indian Army and the Mukti Bahini forces (who was aiding whom depends on which narrative you read— India’s or Bangladesh’s). As per Bangladesh’s understanding of its history, the nation was a victim of genocide. Killing three million people over 267 days amounts to nearly 11,000 deaths a day. That would make it one of the most lethal conflicts of all time.
One of the most brutal conflicts in recent years has been in the Democratic Republic of Congo, where the International Rescue Committee reported that 5.4 million people died between 1998 and 2008. A more thorough Canadian analysis now concludes that the actual figure is about half. At 5.4 million deaths, the daily death toll would be around 1,500; at 2.7 million, around 750. Was the 1971 war up to 15 times more lethal than the Congolese conflict?
It is an uncomfortable question. Many Bangladeshis feel that raising such a doubt undermines their suffering and belittles their identity. But a thorough, unbiased study, going as far as facts can take the analysis, would be an important contribution to our understanding of the subcontinent’s recent history.
In Dead Reckoning, the Harvard-trained Oxford academic, Sarmila Bose, tries doing that, arguing that Bangladesh has believed two national narratives—that it was an innocent victim, and that it fought bravely. She challenges both notions, causing considerable hurt, and even a sense of betrayal, among many Bangladeshis. Bose is Bengali, from India, and the grand-daughter of Sarat Chandra Bose, the elder brother of Subhas Chandra Bose. How could she let the side down?
Bangladeshis welcomed Bose warmly when she began her study, and many intellectuals, historians, academics and survivors told her their stories. She also went to Pakistan, and remarkably, was able to get the cooperation of many Pakistani commanders who participated in the war. Pakistan’s army is not entirely an accountable organization to begin with, and except for a judicial commission in 1971, which was set up to examine the narrow question of what led to Pakistani defeat in the war, there hasn’t been a serious attempt to understand what happened. Any effort to get Pakistani generals to talk is welcome, particularly since the war crimes trials, set to begin in Bangladesh soon, will not try Pakistani nationals, but only Bangladeshi perpetrators and collaborators.
Those seeking justice will end up being perplexed after reading Bose’s account, because she makes a valiant attempt to show the Pakistani army as one trying hard to operate professionally, and in many cases acting with restraint. Bangladeshis don’t have an appetite for such a narrative—a recent film,Meherjaan, a love story between a Bengali woman and a Pakistani soldier during the war, had to be withdrawn from public release following an outcry.
[Dead Reckoning—Memories of the 1971 Bangladesh War: C Hurst and Co., London, 239 pages, £20 (around Rs 1,415)]
Academics should ask tough questions. Bose rightly attempts a detailed forensic examination of the Bangladeshi version of events. She doesn’t always question Pakistani claims with the same thoroughness.
She notes how a Bengali officer mis-remembers the name of his Punjabi counterpart, or how the testimony of the sole Bengali survivor of a massacre can’t be corroborated. But she accepts when she hears of tens of thousands of Biharis (Urdu-speaking, non-Bengali East Pakistanis) dying at Bengali hands. She disparages Mujibur Rahman’s Awami League’s overwhelming victory in the 1970 elections, when the party won 160 of the 162 seats, giving it an absolute majority in the combined Pakistani legislature, by pointing out that only 56% of East Pakistanis voted in the election, when by the standards of most democracies, that’s a reasonable turnout.
Yahya Khan, the dictator who ruled Pakistan at that time, has been the butt of many jokes even in Pakistan, and observers of Pakistan’s politics like Tariq Ali have blamed him for strategic and tactical blunders. Bose’s Yahya is reasonable, trying to get two recalcitrant politicians— Mujib in the east and Zulfiqar Ali Bhuttoin the west, who hadn’t secured a majority, but still wanted to be the prime minister—to talk, but who is almost reluctantly driven into using force in the east because of Bengali secessionist demands.
Some statistics are impossible to establish. There has been controversy over the number of rapes Bangladeshis cite (up to 400,000), and Bose’s account hardly mentions rapes, implying that the issue may not be that big. That is peculiar, considering that even in normal circumstances, rape is an under-reported crime, and in a subcontinental context, more so, given the inevitable stigma.
One can debate whether the 1971 conflict fits into the precise legal definition of genocide. But even if it is not genocide, far too many terrible things were done to far too many people, whose dreams of redress and justice remained unfulfilled for too long.
Bose is right in pointing out that the conflict was a complex one. She prefers the Pakistani characterization of the war—that it was a civil war—over the Bangladeshi preference—that it was a war of independence. As evidence, she shows the Awami League negotiating for a solution till early 1971, implying that linking Bangladeshi nationalism to the language agitation of the 1950s was an ex-post-facto justification, rather than a well-thought strategy seeking independence. That is an interesting point, but Bose doesn’t develop the argument further. And she refutes an argument not many reasonable people have made, when she says that Mujib was not leading a non-violent movement.
She writes of several incidents in which Pakistani soldiers act in a humane way. Clearly, every Pakistani soldier was not evil incarnate, nor every Bengali nationalist an angel. And yet, Pakistanis won’t find Bose’s account comforting-some terrible atrocities are documented here. Bangladeshis should not ignore it either. They should rise to the challenge and document their own suffering more accurately.
In any event, several conclusions emerge-that many Bengali students of all faiths were targeted, and killed; that many Bengali women were raped, or forced into sexual slavery; that many Bengali intellectuals were murdered two days before surrender; that not all Pakistani commanders were brutal, nor all Pakistani soldiers evil; that Bengalis did terrible things to Pakistanis and Biharis.
Missing is the simpler grand narrative: that a nation with two halves separated by 1,000 miles with little in common except faith, was probably a bad idea to begin with. And when the part which felt discriminated against, protested, and demanded respect, cultural autonomy, and greater resources, even winning a majority in nationwide elections, the dominant half ignored the verdict, sent troops, and killed tens of thousands of people, before surrendering to a guerrilla force assisted by a superior army, but not before destroying the new nation’s physical infrastructure and killing intellectuals who could have helped lead the country.
Call it what you will. It was terrible, and it remains a crime against humanity.
Salil Tripathi writes the fortnightly column Here, There, Everywhere in Mint and is researching a book on the 1971 war.
