It’s not a lie if you believe it

As someone who has been working in news for the better part of a decade, the amount of political discourse I have observed among my socio-economic demographic recently has been astonishing -- some of the most apolitical people I personally know, left shaken to the bone by the events which have unfolded since July 15, are now being vocal on the abject failure of the sitting government to behave in a way that can be considered rational in dealing with the student movement.

Given just how ill-advised a notion that is in the context of our governance, this is most definitely a watershed moment, symbolized by the opaque red adorning user photos all across Bangladeshi Facebook/Instagram -- well before the powers-that-be decided to lift its limp ban on social media platforms -- in solidarity with those who have lost life and limb in the student movement against discrimination in the government job recruitment system.
While there seem to be legitimate concerns of the movement being co-opted by the ruling party’s primary opposition (Begum Khaleda Zia’s Facebook page changed its user photo to the aforementioned red before switching to something a bit more on-brand literally a day later), the movement has seemingly rejected the backing of external forces, reports DT.
Yes, we have noticed similar righteous indignation on the part of the public all the way back in 2018, but something feels different this time around: The wider public is ostensibly backing the movement’s call for a formal acknowledgment of the heavy-handed actions of the law enforcement from the government, including the moonshot demand of having Prime Minister Sheikh Hasina issue an apology.
There is no explaining this kind of boldness unless one feels it in their bones that they are in the right, or, in this instance, that the other party is clearly in the wrong. But when law enforcement itself can be seen trying to cover its tracks, is there really any chance of getting the government to admit that it made a mistake?
Abu Sayed -- whose photo standing defiant in the face of state-sanctioned death is sure to define this period of time in the annals of our nation’s history -- had his life extinguished by a bullet fired from a gun held by a man in a seafoam green uniform. His death at the hands of law enforcement is incontrovertible, but even with video evidence the police are pretending otherwise.
The First Information Report, filed by the police, paints a different picture: "The protesters fired weapons and threw chunks of bricks from different directions, and at one stage, a student was seen falling to the ground."
Awami League General Secretary Obaidul Quader also recently chimed in saying that any orders to shoot on sight during the curfews were “misinterpreted,” despite reports that at least 44 people had been shot dead since the supposed order was even mentioned. A gazette notification was never apparently passed regarding any such orders, but when so many lives have already been impacted because of a “misinterpretation,” does that excuse hold any water?
A decade and half of rule is bound to see a few major missteps, the most recent being the dismissal of the student movement back when it had just begun and branding those who go against the current system as being enemies of the state. But the erasure of truth is not a viable strategy to remain in power -- you can talk a lot of smack about Bangladeshis, but if there’s one thing that we are collectively good at (to a fault, at times), it’s not forgetting.
But is there a way out for the Awami League from this quagmire which it seems to have made for itself? After all the blood that has been shed and the constant denial of verifiable truth, can the party redeem itself and regain the trust of the public?
Perhaps.
But what they absolutely need to understand is that, regardless of George Costanza’s genius, it is still a lie even if you believe it.
Rubaiyat Kabir is Joint Editor, Editorial and Op-Ed, Dhaka Tribune.