A lesson on defiance: What role did teachers play in the July Uprising?

On 15 July 2024, Abu Sayeed addressed his last Facebook post to Dr Syed Mohammad Shamsuzzoha. 

"Sir! We need you terribly right now, sir," he wrote. The words were simple yet charged with fear, urgency and hope. Just a day later, Abu Sayeed was killed.

His post was not merely a cry for help, but a symbolic invocation of a legacy of solidarity between students and teachers in Bangladesh.

During the 1969 uprising against the West Pakistani forces, students at Rajshahi University defied a government ban and took to the streets in protest. Dr Zoha, the then university proctor, had placed himself between the armed forces and the students.

His words still echo across decades, "If any bullet is to be fired, let it hit me instead of the students." The bullet did hit him. He died on the way to hospital, becoming the first university teacher in East Pakistan to be martyred for protecting his students.

Abu Sayeed's call to Dr Zoha captured the desperate need for moral guardianship during the July Uprising. During the movement, students across the country stood against repression and injustice under the guise of quota system. Their voices were stifled, they were assaulted and killed by goons affiliated with the Awami League and its youth and student wings as well as law enforcers, and their demands were ignored.

Yet the state remained indifferent. But as the days grew darker, a crucial force stepped forward — university teachers.

Though hesitant at first, their support soon became vital to the movement's strength. Teachers lent not only moral credibility but also strategic shelter. They amplified student voices when the latter were silenced and bore witness to the state's indifference. 

The University Teachers' Network (UTN), a coalition of faculty from public and private universities, had been observing from the sidelines during the early days of July. Scarred by the 2018 movement, where quota reforms and demands for safer roads led to unintended consequences, UTN initially refrained from direct involvement. But when the brutality of the regime became undeniable — when students were killed, detained and tortured — silence could no longer be justified.

After the killing of six protesters, the teachers' organisation realised that it was no longer a student-only movement.

The ruling party's student wing leaders attacked protesting students on 15 July at Jahangirnagar University. In the evening, when the students took shelter in front of the vice chancellor's residence, they attacked again, and this time, police accompanied them.

On the early night of 16 July, Dr Kh Lutful Elahi, a professor of history at Jahangirnagar University (JU), was hit by rubber bullets fired by police during a protest. One of his eyes was severely injured.

Photo: Syed Zakir Hossain

That day, UTN members visited injured students that were attacked by the ruling partymen at Dhaka Medical College Hospital. The following morning, they rallied under the banner 'Teachers Against Repression' at Aparajeyo Bangla.

Teachers across campuses echoed this solidarity.

On 27 July, 12 members of UTN attempted to visit detained student leaders at the DB (Detective Branch) office. They were denied entry. Their statement condemned the DB chief's "disrespectful" and "negligent" conduct, especially in light of reports of abuse and sedation in custody. This act of resistance carried the weight of responsibility that teachers hold.

The teachers' defiance grew bolder still. On 30 July, teachers of Jahangirnagar University joined a silent procession — 'Jahangirnagar Against Oppression'. They organised a rally with their mouths and eyes covered by red cloth, symbolising the silencing and blinding of truth.

A recitation by JU Professor Golam Rabbani went viral. He recited Nabarun Bhattacharya's famous poem, "Ei mrityu upotyaka amar desh na" (This valley of death is not my country). It resonated with thousands of protesting students, becoming a rallying cry.

Rajshahi University teachers gathered under the banner 'Anti-Oppression Teachers' Society'. They too wore red, and faced locked gates and hesitant campus security. When finally allowed inside, they rallied at the entrance, even as police urged them to disperse quickly. Professors Saleh Hasan Nakib and Rehana Shams Islam addressed the crowd with defiance.

At North South University in Dhaka, teachers held placards that read 'Justice for Unarmed Students'. Professors Nova Ahmed, Dr Saiful Alam, and Saiful Islam stood among many other teachers.

Brac University authorities expressed their solidarity with the protesting students.

In the wake of the violence, students demanded accountability — not only from politicians but from teachers too. At Khulna University, Vice-Chancellor Mahmood Hossain was hailed for protecting students by keeping police off the campus. His words, "No police can enter my campus; I am the authority here," became a statement of leadership rooted in integrity that Dr Zoha showed in 1969.

On 2 August, UTN helped organise 'Drohojatra' (March of Defiance). Before a sea of protesters at the National Press Club, Professor Anu Muhammad demanded that the Prime Minister must resign. Just three days later, the regime fell.

But while some teachers stood firmly beside their students, others did not. A section of faculty members actively opposed the protests. On 25 July, Maleka Akter Banu, a professor at Government Titumir College, filed a case against 500–700 unidentified students, accusing them of violence and vandalism. She claimed political affiliations, adding layers of suspicion and fear to an already volatile situation.

Some Dhaka University teachers accused the students of hurting the sentiment of the Liberation War, condemning their chants and protest.

At Jahangirnagar University, at least nine teachers were directly engaged in orchestrating attacks on general students. Later, they were suspended for their aversive role.

In the months that followed, over a hundred teachers across various institutions were boycotted by students. Some had provided information to authorities, others threatened or discouraged student protestors. Their return to classrooms was not welcomed.

Teachers who had once remained silent now found themselves unwelcome in their own lecture halls. Boycotts spread. Some faculty members admitted regret; others defended their neutrality.

A few claimed they were being punished not for what they did, but for who they were affiliated with.

In this tangled aftermath, the role of teachers in the July Uprising remains profound, and a little contested as well.

Abu Sayeed was martyred. But his final plea, "Sir, we need you," did not vanish into thin air. It travelled across the hearts of those teachers who still remember what it means to stand by the youth when they stand for justice.