54 years after the massacre, why Bangladesh still faces an intellectual crisis?
On this day in 1971, the Pakistani military and its local collaborators carried out a calculated massacre on the country’s leading intellectuals. 54 years later, the nation still bears the scar due to the disappearance of non-partisan intellectual leadership, the hollowing-out of universities, institutional decay, suppression of dissent, and the loss of cultural and philosophical guidance
On 14 December 1971, just two days before Bangladesh achieved independence, the Pakistani military and its local collaborators carried out a calculated massacre on the country's leading intellectuals.
University teachers, writers, journalists, doctors, activists and cultural figures were abducted from their homes, tortured, and killed. The intention was clear — to cripple the newborn nation by destroying its thinking class.
More than five decades later, the consequences of that night are still unfolding. The massacre did not merely extinguish individual lives, it ruptured an intellectual continuum. It left Bangladesh with a generational vacuum that has never been fully repaired. As the country marks Martyred Intellectuals' Day once again, the question is how deeply has that loss shaped the country's current intellectual crisis?
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A planned massacre
The killing of intellectuals in 1971 was not an isolated act of wartime brutality. According to researcher and essayist Morshed Shafiul Hasan, it was carried out in two distinct phases.
"The intellectuals were killed in two stages – first on the night of 25 March, as part of the indiscriminate Bengali massacre; and then on 14 December, which was planned to eliminate the enlightened class of the nation," he said.
"By December, the Pakistani military had realised that the creation of Bangladesh was inevitable and that they could no longer retain control," he added. "Once that certainty set in, they prepared lists—most notably the list compiled by Rao Farman Ali—and carried out selective, systematic killings based on those lists".
Those targeted were not necessarily associated with political parties. "Many of them were simply doing their jobs, going to their workplaces," Hasan noted, pointing to Munir Chowdhury, a playwright and academic who had been active in leftist politics in the 1950s but was no longer politically engaged by 1971.
"What did we do with that legacy? Largely, we confined ourselves to slogans. Many later used the Liberation War merely as a political tool. Yet the kind of foundational, substantive work that Bangladesh needed—in education, science, culture—was not carried forward in the same way."
"Yet the project of crippling Bangladesh intellectually was carried out in a highly planned and deliberate manner. In that sense, Bangladesh was left intellectually paralysed in a profound way" .
A generation cut short
The scale of the loss becomes clearer when one looks at what these intellectuals had already achieved—and what they might have gone on to produce. Munir Chowdhury's literary output by the age of forty was formidable. Anwar Pasha began writing his seminal novel Rifle Roti Aurat during the nine months of the Liberation War itself. Shahidullah Kaiser, despite a punishing career in journalism, produced works such as Sangsaptak and Sareng Bou before he was sixty.
"How old were they then? Fifty, perhaps, or not even sixty. We have not produced intellectuals of that calibre since—quite simply, we have not," Hasan argued.
The tragedy, he added, is that the post-1971 state failed to build upon this legacy.
"But what did we do with that legacy? Largely, we confined ourselves to slogans. Many later used the Liberation War merely as a political tool. Yet the kind of foundational, substantive work that Bangladesh needed—in education, science, culture—was not carried forward in the same way", said Hasan.
Nationalism without its cultural guides
For researcher Altaf Parvez, the massacre must be understood against the longer arc of Bengali nationalism.
"From 1952 to 1970, the rise of our nationalism was rooted primarily in culture created by our intellectuals; it was this cultural foundation that shaped our nationalist consciousness and, ultimately, our sense of statehood," he said.
The killing of intellectuals therefore had consequences far beyond immediate grief. "When those figures were lost—when they were systematically killed—we were deprived of sound guidance during the post-1971 nation-building phase," Parvez argued.
"We failed to translate the achievement of 1971 into a coherent and constructive national project" .
"In 1971 we lost a crucial section of society. Later we have not produced intellectuals capable of guiding the nation from a detached, non-partisan position. Instead, what we have are partisan intellectuals—some aligned with the Awami League, some with the BNP, some with Jamaat."
What followed was not merely a pause but a prolonged crisis. "In 1971 we lost a crucial section of society — our philosophers, artists, doctors, engineers — those who were politically conscious and intellectually engaged. That loss created a profound crisis in the post-1971 period," he said.
From independent minds to partisan intellectuals
Over the next 54 years, that initial rupture deepened. Parvez points to a second, more serious crisis— the disappearance of non-partisan intellectual leadership. "We have not produced intellectuals capable of guiding the nation from a detached, non-partisan position. Instead, what we have are partisan intellectuals—some aligned with the Awami League, some with the BNP, some with Jamaat," he said.
This partisan capture extends across professional life. "If you look at the professional classes today, you will see that almost every profession has been divided along party lines. The space for an independent intellectual leadership—one that can transcend partisan identities and guide the nation—has effectively disappeared," he added.
The result is a hollow commemoration. "While we commemorate Martyred Intellectuals' Day, I harbour a growing concern about whether we will even be able to observe it meaningfully in the years ahead," Parvez said .
Universities and the hollowing-out of intellect
Universities were once breeding grounds for intellectuals. That, too, has changed. According to Hasan, "There was a time when universities had a vibrant intellectual subculture. Now, there is ample evidence of a hollowing-out".
He showed a stark comparison. "Look at the Bangla or English departments at the University of Dhaka. Compare the teachers of that earlier period with most of today's faculty. With a few exceptions, there is virtually no serious intellectual output. They publish the minimum required articles for promotion and then nothing of substance follows".
The ideological shift is even more alarming. Parvez pointed to incidents where figures such as Begum Rokeya have been branded kafir or murtad on university campuses.
"Even a handful of such incidents is enough to demonstrate that our universities have undergone a complete ideological reorientation," he said. "They no longer uphold or claim ownership of Bangladesh's cultural and intellectual roots".
Is the massacre the sole cause?
Writer and researcher Firoz Ahmed denies drawing a straight line from the 1971 killings to today's intellectual weakness. "I believe that an absence of a robust intellectual tradition does exist, but I do not think it has a direct causal relationship with the brutal killings of intellectuals," he said.
For Ahmed, the massacre was an act of vengeance by a collapsing state. "They regarded the intellectual class as enemies of the Pakistani state, and the massacre was, in that sense, a retaliatory and punitive action," he argued.
The deeper problem, according to him, lies in institutional decay. "The institutions that, in the 1950s and 1960s, were able to produce intellectually rigorous and highly capable individuals have since been weakened. Over time, these institutions have lost merit through patronage, sycophancy, factionalism, and various forms of institutional decay," Ahmed said.
Silencing dissent, draining courage
Across the interviews, one theme recurs: the systematic suppression of dissent. Ahmed noted that even technical debates are no longer tolerated. "Architects and engineers from BUET raised specific, substantive objections. Urban planners and experts repeatedly objected. Yet they were silenced—through intimidation and fear," he said.
This climate has driven many thinkers into silence or exile. "I know many intellectual friends—people who did excellent work here—who have left the country over the past ten years after years of protest and resistance, they grew exhausted and left," Firoz Ahmed said.
"I believe that an absence of a robust intellectual tradition does exist, but I do not think it has a direct causal relationship with the brutal killings of intellectuals"
Without political protection, intellectual courage withers. "When an intellectual sees that there is political backing for alternative ideas, it becomes easier to speak out without fear of retribution," he explained, "Otherwise, silence becomes rational survival."
An unfinished reckoning
Dr Amena Mohsin, former professor and chairperson of the Department of International Relations at the University of Dhaka, frames the loss in existential terms. "The future of a nation is inseparable from its intellectual class; it is the intelligentsia that shapes that future. If you succeed in dismantling that intellectual foundation, you can effectively destroy a nation or an entire generation," she said.
"When we look at Bangladesh's current situation, we see that a vacuum has gradually emerged in our intellectual sphere. They did succeed to some extent."
Looking at Bangladesh today, she sees partial success in that destructive project. "When we look at Bangladesh's current situation, we see that a vacuum has gradually emerged in our intellectual sphere. They did succeed to some extent," she said.
As Bangladesh marks 14 December once more, the commemoration cannot be confined to mourning the dead. The massacre of intellectuals was not only a crime of the past; its aftershocks define the present. Until the country confronts how a generation was lost—and how institutions, politics and fear continue to cripple independent thought—the war on Bangladesh's intellect will remain unfinished.
