Asha’ar Rehman on the common sentiments prevailing in West Pakistan in 1971 about Bengali nationalism

“…Very little information was reaching us about East Pakistan except what we read in the newspapers, or heard from anyone passing through… we hoped, perhaps stupidly, that all would be well in the end. I think we relied too much on the pull of Islam, and according to a gloating Indira Gandhi… that myth had been shattered”—Back to the Pavilion by Lt Gen M. Atiqur Rahman, governor of Punjab and the province’s martial law administrator in 1971.

On their turn, the newspapers from the time do little to lift the patriotic haze that East Pakistan had been wrapped in. By some estimates the news files reflect a more pluralistic culture prevalent then as compared to the polarised half country that we live in today. But when it came to a rebellion, and that too backed by India, unity demanded a closing of ranks and the rather feeble argument for political reconciliation was drowned in the cries of strongest military reply to the enemy—just as it happens today when the ideological investigators are ever so keen on discovering a foreign hand in troubled areas of Balochistan and northwest Pakistan.

Back in 1971, West Pakistan had its own problems to deal with—most significantly, those arising out of transition to democracy based on the country’s first ever general election after long years of martial law. Yahya Khan was in charge and he had the dual task of bringing the Ayubian tradition of military rule to an honourable end, at the same time dealing with the forces and trends Ayub Khan had strengthened through his policies. The nationalists in East Pakistan were one such force—a distant one as compared to those existing in the new West Pakistan that the December 1970 general election had thrown up.

During the 12 months between the election and the military surrender in Dhaka on December 16, 1971, the news coverage was rather narrowly focused on a new phenomenon the West Pakistan was obsessed with. This new phenomenon was called Zulfikar Ali Bhutto. This was actually the beginning of Pakistani politics’ fetish with pro- and anti-Bhutto camps. In the situation, most pro-Mujib or pro-East Pakistan remarks originating in West Pakistan were dismissed simply as a cry by those who had been defeated, not by Bhutto.

The ‘doves’ Gen Atiq talks about in his book—politicians such as Nur Khan, Asghar Khan and some vacillating West Pakistan-based nationalists who sometimes went as left-wing leaders—were eclipsed, quite often accused of forming their position over East Pakistan in relation to Bhutto’s politics.

Asghar Khan warned and warned again. Nur Khan was particularly vocal about the dire need for a compromise between Awami League and PPP, saying that the positions of both Bhutto and Sheikh Mujib needed to be reconciled. Journalist Abdullah Malik was jailed for his views on East Pakistan. These appeals to the conscience of West Pakistanis were frustrated amid a heated debate about the long-denied empowerment of the true people’s representatives and the issue was more or less clinched in favour of the patriotic when India formally emerged as a party.

An Indian plane was hijacked to Lahore in January 1971 where it was eventually set on fire. This led to India cutting off the air link between Pakistan’s western and eastern wings. For an idea of the gap that existed between the two Pakistans, this severing got more people worried in West Pakistan than any bits of information about gory military operations and Indian intervention in East Pakistan. The flight disconnection was seen as an instance directly hitting West Pakistan--quite similar to how most people in Pakistan today are inclined to view the gas pipeline explosions in Balochistan. An all out war followed a few months later which made identification of the enemies so much easier.

If Bhutto was a guide to the complex West Pakistani concerns at the time, he shuttled between expressing his resolve to fight India to the hilt, counselling his audience about the deteriorating situation in East Pakistan and about his desire for taking power. Post-surrender, the attention remained too affixed on rebuilding and securing West Pakistan to allow a befitting longing for the East.

Away from the debate as to who was the traitor and who the ultimate fall guy in the story, the people of the erstwhile West Pakistan needed an escape from collective guilt and typically, they found one in the inevitability of the situation. Bangladesh had to come into being, they convinced themselves. They surmised that if there was ever a conflict, it was between the power holders and that while the two parts represented two distinct, ultimately irreconcilable cultures, there was no conflict of interests between the people of West and East Pakistan. As proof and also by way of an effort to enable the West to overcome the loss of the East, the popular discourse was focussed on the West Pakistani ruling elite’s excesses against their ‘own’ people.

Kuldip Nayar cites from an interview with Ayub Khan: “Left to me, I would have told East Bengal in 1962, when a new constitution was introduced, that if they wanted to go they could do so. It was no use keeping them if they did not want to remain with us. In fact, once I had a plan to ask them straightway whether they wanted to secede. Were they to say yes, that would have ended the problem then and there, but certain things came in the way and I could not go ahead with my scheme.”

It was as if all our brethren in East Pakistan needed was to dial up Islamabad and ask for freedom. Once the momentary lapses in belief are overcome, the air links re-established and the gas supplies restored, the Pakistanis move on without any qualms.

The writer is the Resident Editor, Dawn, Lahore