Denial as politics: How Jamaat’s revisionism of 14 December threatens post–July unity

"Some leftist and Kolkata-based intellectuals, as well as pro-India elements, have long implicated Jamaat-e-Islami in the killings of intellectuals. However, historical facts and evidence indicate that this massacre was part of a well-planned strategy by the Indian army and intelligence agency," said Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami Secretary General and former lawmaker Professor Mia Golam Parwar on 14 December 2025. 

Bangladesh Jamaat-e-Islami's Chattogram city Amir Muhammad Nazrul Islam posed a question as well, "Why would the Pakistani forces kill pro-Pakistan intellectuals?"

This narrative is not new. What is new — and far more dangerous — is the brazenness with which it is being propagated in post-July Uprising Bangladesh. It is a moment that demands moral clarity, not historical distortion. The sheer absurdity of the claims borders on speculative fiction; yet this is, sadly, our reality. 

It is a classic case of political denialism — an attempt to absolve Jamaat-e-Islami of its documented role as a collaborator force in 1971 by manufacturing doubt where none exists. In doing so, this revisionism undermines historical truth, insults victims, and threatens the fragile unity forged after the July Uprising.

Jamaat's current denial rests on a familiar claim: that Pakistan was on the verge of surrender, and therefore had no reason to kill intellectuals — especially those they labelled "pro-Pakistan". From this, they imply that India or its agents must have carried out the killings. 

However, this argument falls apart under basic scrutiny, as it disregards the actual timeline of events, Pakistan's complete military control of Dhaka at the time, contemporaneous reporting, and even the Pakistani military's own admissions and internal contradictions.

Who controlled Dhaka between 10 and 14 December?

Between 10 and 14 December 1971, Dhaka was under complete Pakistani military control. The city was under curfew. No Indian or allied forces had entered the capital. Declassified US documents show that until the afternoon of 15 December, Pakistan's Eastern Command remained determined to continue fighting. Indian General J F R Jacob later admitted that he bluffed General A A K Niazi into surrender by falsely claiming Indian troops were positioned at Dhaka's outskirts.

This matters because the abductions of intellectuals took place precisely during this window. White microbuses moved freely across a besieged city, abducting individuals from their homes using prepared lists. Victims were taken to detention sites and later executed at places such as Rayerbazar.

In a city under military lockdown, such operations were impossible without the knowledge, permission, and logistical support of the occupying army.

Labelling the martyred intellectuals as 'pro-Pakistani' 

Another strand of Jamaat's argument relies on a dishonest conflation: that intellectuals who continued their professional work during the Liberation War were therefore "pro-Pakistan". 

Taken seriously, this implies that professionals in 1971 had only two moral choices — to take up arms or abandon their livelihoods altogether. By that logic, teachers should have closed classrooms, doctors left hospitals, and journalists stopped reporting.

Viewed through a contemporary lens, the fallacy becomes clearer. During the July Uprising, the Awami League issued political statements using the names of university teachers, often without their consent. 

By Jamaat's reasoning, anyone who continued teaching, researching, reporting, or practising medicine during that period would automatically be branded a collaborator of Sheikh Hasina — an absurd and dangerous standard.

Pakistani generals accuse each other — and reveal the truth

The most damning evidence against Jamaat's revisionist narrative comes not from Indian sources, but from Pakistan's own generals.

In The Betrayal of East Pakistan, Lieutenant General A A K Niazi, commander of Pakistan's Eastern Command, squarely blamed Major General Rao Farman Ali for orchestrating the killings. According to Niazi, Farman — who oversaw Dhaka's civil administration — conceived the plan to use Al-Badr, compiled lists of intellectuals, and supervised their elimination.

Rao Farman Ali, in his book 'How Pakistan Got Divided', tried to portray himself as a mere bureaucrat. Yet in attempting to exonerate himself, he admitted to seeing Al-Badr's white microbus parked in front of Niazi's office and acknowledged knowing that detainees were being held in a "special prison".

The diary, the lists and Jamaat's own admissions

Perhaps the most incriminating evidence is the existence of lists — lists that Jamaat leaders now pretend never existed. After the fall of Dhaka, a diary belonging to senior Pakistani military officer Major General Rao Farman Ali was recovered from the Governor House — now known as Bangabhaban. 

The diary contained the names of many intellectuals who were killed or went missing. He also wrote a chilling line in his diary, "Green land of East Pakistan will be painted red." 

It is a classic case of political denialism — an attempt to absolve Jamaat-e-Islami of its documented role as a collaborator force in 1971 by manufacturing doubt where none exists. In doing so, this revisionism undermines historical truth, insults victims, and threatens the fragile unity forged after the July Uprising.

Pakistani bureaucrat Altaf Gauhar testified that he personally went to Rao Farman Ali to plead for the life of his friend, Bangali poet Sanaul Haq. He watched as Farman opened his diary and struck the poet's name off the list. That diary was later recovered from the Governor House after the surrender, containing names of Bengali intellectuals alongside derogatory notes.

Former Jamaat-e-Islami amir Ghulam Azam himself admitted in a television interview that he used to recommend names to be removed from Farman's diary — an admission that demolishes Jamaat's current claims. One cannot lobby for names to be removed from a "hit list" and later claim ignorance of the killings that followed.

Contemporary journalism leaves no ambiguity as well. These reports were written before Bangladesh had any political incentive to "frame" Jamaat. They were eyewitness accounts from a war zone.

Why the denial now?

The question, then, is not what happened, but why Jamaat is resurrecting denialism now.

The answer lies in contemporary politics. Post-July Uprising Bangladesh has reopened debates on accountability, democratic values, and historical justice. Jamaat's unresolved legacy from 1971 remains its greatest moral liability. Unable to confront that past, parts of the party have chosen denial instead.

The fallen authoritarian Awami League regime weaponised 1971 and our glorious War of Independence. However, that does not mean Jaamat will get a free pass on denying their past crimes; nor use the July Uprising as the Trojan Horse to rewrite their history of defeat, shame and guilt. 

Jaamat and their sympathisers have grown quite bold in their narratives to discredit the idea of Bangladesh. However, it just makes them look insecure and apologetic. 

14 December was not chaos; it was not confusion. It was a calculated act of political murder — planned within the Pakistani military apparatus and executed by local collaborators, as evidenced by Pakistani admissions, recovered documents, and contemporary reporting. Bangladesh does not need revisionism. 

It needs courage — the courage to face history as it is, not as some would like it to be.

Denial is not reconciliation. It is sabotage.