Country A declares independence, fights a costly and bloody war, gains victory over Country B, and becomes an independent nation-state. The victory is against stupendous military odds, and would not have been possible without the decisive and invaluable assistance of Country C. Country A overwhelmingly elects its wartime leader as the country’s first head of government. However, soon after A becomes independent, A’s government desires to plot a middle course between its former master, B, and its great ally during the war, C. This change of foreign policy leads to massive domestic turmoil. The government is thrown in crisis, and the cabinet becomes inexorably factionalized. Soon, the cabinet’s most illustrious member, who was irreplacable during the war and without whom independence would not have been possible, resigns from the cabinet.
So far, a story familiar to most of us, I assume. But the story after this point diverges depending on the name of the characters. If the names are United States, Great Britain, France, Washington, and Jefferson, it goes one way. If, on the other hand, the names are Bangladesh, Pakistan, India, Mujib, and Tajuddin, then it goes quite another.
For, you see, George Washington retired from what could have been his for the taking, and served as the President of the United States only for two terms, while most of his countrymen expected him to occupy that post for life. Instead, he quietly retired to his country home, and concentrated on trying to make his Mount Vernon estates profitable again. Sheikh Mujibur Rahman tried to make permanent by law what should have been his through goodwill and love of his people, and established one-party rule in Bangladesh, in effect turning the country into a dictatorship, and trying to promulgate “Mujibbad.”
If what came before could be similar, how could the two stories end so differently?
In 1758, twenty-three years before his victory at Yorktown finally broke the back of the British Army, Washington had been an officer in that same British Army, fighting against the French in the Seven Years War. In 1947, twenty-three years before the sound of ninety-thousand rifles being thrown to the ground signalled the breakup of Pakistan, Mujib had been a foot-soldier in the fight for Pakistan. Informed that the flag of Pakistan had not been raised in Faridpur even after forty days after the formation of Pakistan, due to resistance by the sizable Hindu population in that town, H. S. Suhrawardi sent his favorite lathial to Faridpur to see what was going on. The man he sent was Mujib. The flag of Pakistan was raised in Faridpur two days later.
Upon Washington’s death, the British Navy lowered their flags at half mast, the American Army wore black armbands for six months, and Napoleon ordered ten days of mourning throughout France. After Mujib, along with most of his family, was assassinated by “a group of junior and misguided army officers,” his body lay unwashed and uncared for until flown to his home village, in an army helicopter, for burial. Most of his cabinet colleagues joined the government formed by those who had killed him.
During his lifetime, Washington had become a model of Republican virtue and moderation. He walked amongst intellectual dinosaurs such as Thomas Jefferson and dazzling men of action such as Alexander Hamilton, but never tried to project his own personality or belittle the other colossals around him in any way. Thirty-three years after Mujib’s death, we still only are able to endlessly discuss his contribution to our country and bemoan that he has not been given his due honors, almost reducing him to a party figure in the process, from the larger-than-life-figure-who-belonged-to-all-of-us that he should have been.
Jefferson said of Washington, “The moderation and virtue of a single character probably prevented this Revolution from being closed, as most other have been, by a subversion of that liberty it was intended to establish.”
Would he not have said the exact opposite of Mujib?
