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Tren illiberal akan semakin kuat di era Prabowo

The electoral victory of the ex-general-turned-cuddly-populist Prabowo Subianto on 20 March marks the continuation of illiberal democracy in Indonesia. However, the moral panic that followed the announcement of his presidency may be exaggerated, writes Iqra Anugrah, who argues for a more nuanced analysis of Indonesia’s current and future political trajectory. The dangers for democracy posed by Prabowo’s impending rule is just a symptom of the larger problem of oligarchic rule in the Global South. English

Bhasa: Kemenangan Prabowo menandakan keberlanjutan demokrasi illiberal. Tetapi, kita tidak boleh terjebak oleh kepanikan moral. Yang kita butuhkan adalah analisis yang lebih bernuansa mengenai trajektori politik sekarang dan yang akan datang. Ancaman bagi demokrasi di bawah kekuasaan Prabowo merupakan gejala bagi persoalan yang lebih besar, yaitu kuasa oligarki di negara-negara Selatan.

Image by @illustruth

DEMOKRASI Indonesia berada di persimpangan jalan. Prabowo Subianto, seorang mantan jenderal yang aktif di masa kediktatoran Orde Baru yang dipimpin oleh mantan mertuanya, Soeharto, dan bereputasi buruk karena kasus-kasus pelanggaran Hak Asasi Manusia (HAM), telah resmi memenangkan pemilihan presiden. Terlepas dari klaim tentang penyimpangan prosedur pemilu dan upaya dari dua capres rival, Anies Baswedan dan Ganjar Pranowo, menggugat melalui Mahkamah Konstitusi (MK), Prabowo akan tetap dilantik pada Oktober nanti.

Bagi kalangan gerakan sosial, kemenangan Prabowo merupakan kabar buruk. Ada keresahan di antara para aktivis bahwa pemerintahan Prabowo akan memangkas kembali pencapaian perjuangan demokratik secara signifikan, seperti kebebasan berpendapat, berserikat dan berkumpul, dan aktivitas pers.

Akan tetapi, sentimen ini, meski sangat bisa dimaklumi, cenderung melihat agensi Prabowo secara berlebihan dan alpa dengan fakta bahwa justru di bawah dua periode pemerintahan Joko Widodo-lah demokrasi Indonesia menjadi semakin oligarkis dan illiberal. Maraknya gelombang populisme otoriter di tingkat global yang menjangkiti berbagai negara dan kawasan lain menunjukkan bahwa pertanyaan yang tepat bukanlah mengapa Indonesia tetap bisa mempertahankan kualitas demokrasinya, melainkan kapan Indonesia akan bergabung dengan tren global tersebut dan memiliki versi lokal Rodrigo Duterte atau Bongbong Marcos.

Menyikapi perkembangan politik ini, sosiolog politik Abdil Mughis Mudhoffir baru-baru ini berargumen bahwa demokrasi di Indonesia “akan berjalan seperti biasanya.” Meskipun mengakui bahwa akan ada kemungkinan belokan illiberal yang lebih dalam di bawah kepresidenan Prabowo, kawan Mughis mengkritik kecenderungan alarmis di lingkar-lingkar gerakan sosial dan media dan juga klaim bahwa Indonesia akan kembali menjadi rezim otokratik secara utuh di bawah pemerintahan Prabowo. Mughis berpendapat bahwa para elite telah mendapat keuntungan secara politik dan ekonomi dari demokrasi elektoral borjuis semenjak 1998. Tatanan rezim yang sekarang dengan demikian akan tetap bertahan.

Sementara itu, editor IndoProgress Coen Husain Pontoh mengkritik Mughis dan menyajikan analisis yang berbeda mengenai demokrasi dan perkembangan kapitalisme di Indonesia di bawah pemerintahan Prabowo. Menurut kawan Coen, yang berbagi keresahan yang sama dengan elemen-elemen gerakan sosial mengenai kenaikan otoritarianisme, kecenderungan represif di dalam kerangka demokrasi elektoral di bawah pemerintahan baru akan cenderung meningkat, tapi bukan karena personalitas Prabowo melainkan tekanan struktural dan logika akumulasi kapital itu sendiri, yang akan memaksa negara dan aktornya, yaitu pemerintahan Prabowo, untuk mewakili kepentingan kelas kapitalis melalui pelestarian eksploitasi dan dominasi yang akan semakin parah derajatnya.

Terlepas dari perdebatan di antara Mughis dan Coen, kedua analisis ini menyajikan pembacaan yang lebih bernuansa tentang masa depan demokrasi Indonesia di bawah pemerintahan Prabowo. Tulisan saya kali ini bertujuan untuk berkontribusi dan mengintervensi perdebatan ini.

Dalam hal interpretasi atas dinamika politik Indonesia di bawah Prabowo, analisis Mughis menurut saya memberikan pembacaan yang lebih jernih mengenai skenario-skenario politik yang mungkin terjadi. Di sisi lain, analisis Coen menekankan kerangka teoretik penting yang perlu diingat oleh setiap aktivis dan ilmuwan progresif dan kiri, bahwa negara kapitalis memiliki tendensi struktural untuk terus melanggengkan ekspansi kapital dan proses perampasan dan penghisapan nilai lebih yang dilakukannya.

Pembacaan yang ingin saya tawarkan adalah sebagai berikut: Saya lebih bersepakat dengan pembacaan Mughis mengenai kondisi demokrasi Indonesia di bawah kekuasaan Prabowo, seraya mengamini bahwa kita tidak boleh melupakan natur dari negara kapitalis dan kecenderungan represifnya, yang digaris bawahi oleh Coen.

Tetapi, pembacaan Mughis bahwa proses perebutan dan bagi-bagi kekuasaan di antara para elite sebagai faktor utama di balik stabilitas demokrasi illiberal terlalu uni-dimensional. Di sisi lain, meskipun Coen secara tepat mengingatkan kita tentang tendensi struktural dan otoriter dari negara kapitalis, analisisnya luput melihat bahwa kuasa kapital, meski determinan, termediasi efeknya oleh sejumlah faktor. Implikasinya, corak dan manifestasi dari tendensi otoriter ini akan berbeda-beda bentuknya di lokasi-lokasi geografis yang berbeda.

Oleh karena itu, dalam hemat saya, analisis yang lebih komprehensif perlu melihat tiga faktor. Pertama, karakteristik dari kompetisi elektoral di antara para elite politik; kedua, relasi antara demokrasi dan kapitalisme oligarkis di Indonesia; dan ketiga, aspirasi politik dari para pemilih itu sendiri. Dengan melihat ketiga faktor ini, saya berkesimpulan bahwa alih-alih kembali kepada kediktatoran ala Orde Baru, Indonesia di bawah Prabowo akan menyaksikan kelanjutan demokrasi illiberal.


Elit Politikus Tetap Berkuasa, Tetapi Kekuasaannya Tidak Mutlak

Politikus Indonesia dari berbagai partai dan tingkatan pemerintahan telah menikmati dan dengan sukses memanfaatkan sistem pemilu yang relatif bebas dan terbuka sejak 1999. Elite-elite lama yang mapan secara cepat beradaptasi dengan permainan elektoral borjuis ini dan memantapkan posisinya tatkala Indonesia mengalami transisi politik dari kediktatoran menuju demokrasi, sebuah kesempatan yang juga dimanfaatkan oleh pemain-pemain baru seperti kelas kapitalis/kalangan pebisnis lokal.

Di level nasional, para elite dengan mudah dapat berbagi kekuasaan dan berbagai jenis “rampasan perang” di antara mereka, seperti jatah dari anggaran negara dan jabatan menteri. Di tingkat lokal, para kepala daerah seperti bupati dapat memenangkan pemilu melalui jejaring patronase dan ijon politik dengan aktor kapitalisme ekstraktif, seperti perusahaan tambang.

Tentu saja, tingkah laku elite ini menunjukkan preferensi mereka, yaitu tatanan politik yang lebih otoriter, ditandai dengan terbatasnya ruang untuk partisipasi popular, oposisi, dan tuntutan redistribusi. Tetapi, ambisi ini terbatasi oleh sejumlah fitur struktural dan kelembagaan dari negara Indonesia itu sendiri, seperti kurangnya monopoli elite lokal secara langsung atas sumber daya ekonomi dan lembaga negara.


Kapitalisme Oligarkis dan Demokrasi Kawan, bukan Lawan

Kemudian, sebagaimana telah ditunjukkan oleh ahli ekonomi-politik dan sarjana kritis, demokrasi dan kapitalisme oligarkis dapat hidup berdampingan di Indonesia (juga di banyak masyarakat kapitalis lainnya). Demokrasi elitis di Indonesia tidak menjadi ancaman yang signifikan bagi kelas kapitalis. Ini terlihat dari respons positif kalangan bisnis dan investor yang menyambut baik hasil pemilu sebagai mekanisme untuk memastikan stabilitas politik dan transisi kekuasaan yang damai, yang dibutuhkan untuk pertumbuhan ekonomi dan investasi.

Nyatanya, di tengah absennya agenda sosial demokrasi minimum yang solid, seperti redistribusi kekayaan, program-program kesejahteraan sosial yang luas, dan kontrol kelas pekerja atas ekonomi dan politik, maka kalangan pebisnis tidak akan keberatan untuk memodifikasi aktivitas usaha mereka sesuai dengan norma-norma demokrasi formal. Kelas kapitalis tidak perlu mengandalkan represi politik yang bersifat eksesif, apabila mereka bisa memanfaatkan institusi elektoral dan demokrasi formal yang ada, satu hal yang telah mereka lakukan sejak awal reformasi.

Karenanya, tidak heran bahwa dari dulu ilmuwan politik Benedict Anderson memperingatkan kita bahwa pemilu di Asia Tenggara termasuk Indonesia merupakan indikasi bagi dominasi politik borjuis. Secara sinis, kita bisa menyimpulkan bahwa para elite memiliki kepentingan untuk mempertahankan demokras illiberal yang memiliki dimensi elektoral yang kompetitif, bebas, dan matang.


Pemilih Indonesia Mendambakan Pendisiplinan Demokrasi

Terakhir, kita tidak boleh luput melihat aspirasi politik para pemilih Indonesia secara saksama. Prabowo memenangkan pemilu dengan perolehan suara mayoritas, termasuk dukungan dari para pemilih Gen-Z. Prabowo juga terbantu oleh dukungan Jokowi, yang masih memiliki popularitas publik yang tinggi. Ini mendongkrak citra Prabowo sebagai penerus Jokowi yang setia dengan cita-cita developmentalisnya.

Kalangan aktivis dan intelektual boleh saja tercengang melihat ekspresi politik semacam ini, tetapi banyak pemilih melihat preferensi politik mereka sebagai pemenuhan hak demokratis mereka. Hasil jajak pendapat yang cukup baru dari salah satu lembaga survei terkemuka menunjukkan bahwa hampir 71% responden berpendapat bahwa kinerja demokrasi Indonesia baik atau sangat baik. Fenomena illiberalisme di masyarakat ini tidak hanya terjadi di Indonesia. Di Filipina, banyak pemilih kelas menengah dan menengah atas yang mengamini model demokrasi yang kuasi-otoriter dan eklusivis ala Duterte sebagai tanggapan dan kritik atas “kekacauan” dalam demokrasi liberal. Persoalan ini juga menunjukkan kurangnya daya tarik populis yang luas dari agenda dan program politik gerakan sosial selama ini.


This version of the article was first published on IndoProgress

The English version was published on Bliss

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Iqra Anugrah is a Research Fellow at the International Institute for Asian Studies (IIAS), Leiden University and a Research Associate at the Institute for Economic and Social Research, Education, and Information (LP3ES). He has conducted extensive fieldwork-based research on democracy, development, social movements, and local politics in Indonesia.

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Delhi Diaries: The Dystopian Reality of India’s slide into Fascism

India’s mammoth general election has started — a process lasting several weeks as nearly one billion people cast their votes. Sophia Miller recently visited India, witnessing both excitement and fear in the run-up to the election as Indians ponder a possible third term of Prime Minister Narendra Modi and of the Hindu nationalist ideology (Hindutva) he furthers. What will another term of an increasingly fascist government mean for India and especially for its Muslim minority?

Hindu-nationalism is coloring the city of Delhi in shades of orange

During my last days in Delhi the city is being draped in orange. The flags are flying from garlands criss-crossing busy market streets and narrow alleys, from almost all shops, from every lamppost along the slow-moving traffic lanes, from cars, from auto rickshaws, even from bicycles whose underdressed owners are shivering their way through the exceptionally cold winter days of late January. On the edge of the roads, vendors with handcarts sell the neon-coloured flags displaying the god Ram and an endless repetition of Jai Sri Ram, Jai Sri Ram, the background soundtrack to the temple inauguration that for weeks has seen large swathes of the population high on Hindu-nationalism.

The as yet unfinished Ram Mandir (temple of Ram) in Ayodhya is being built on the ruins of the Babri Masjid, a mosque that was destroyed by right wing fanatics in 1992. They claim that the mosque was built at the birthplace of the Hindu God Ram and accept the 2000 people that died in the ensuing violence – most of them Muslim – as a fair price to pay for clearing the area. After almost three decades of legal and political battles, the Indian Supreme Court ruled in 2019 that a temple should be constructed on the land. The judgment more than anything else reflected the decay of the Indian judiciary – the executive by then had long stopped even pretending it follows the secularism enshrined in the Indian Constitution. To quote Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s words from the temple inauguration ceremony: “Ram is the faith of India, Ram is the foundation of India. Ram is the idea of India, Ram is the law of India”. Defying Hindu tradition and angering more than a few senior priests, Modi chose to place statues of gods and perform the consecration rituals before the temple’s construction was completed, determined to milk the issue to the last drop in his bid for re-election in the general parliamentary elections in spring this year.

In the last general election in 2019, 37% of voters gave their vote to Modi’s party BJP, but with India’s first-past-the-post system this translated into a landslide victory of 56% of seats in parliament. With the state institutions firmly in his hand, the opposition bogged down with in-fighting or jailed, and any notion of an independent media gone for good, some polls predict Modi might score up to 10 percentage points more this time around.

“You shouldn’t have invested all that money into the house,” says Mahi* matter-of-factly, pointing to the air conditioner that’s proudly attached to the raw brick walls of the single room that forms Nadiya’s home. “The elections are coming, they will tear down your house and all the money will be lost. What’s the use?”

I have to blink, blink again, and stop for a moment. The year is 2024, the country India, and this is a normal Tuesday afternoon conversation between two of my friends. Welcome to Modi’s Amrit Kaal, the golden era that will supposedly see the country transform bottom-up.

Nadiya lives in a predominantly Muslim, informal and low-income neighbourhood not far from a busy metro station in South Delhi. There is a dispute as to whose land the houses are built upon. The state claims it belongs to the archaeological survey of India while the residents, some of whom have lived there for more than 30 years, who have seen children born, marry, and in turn give birth, claim it for themselves. In 1995, the government demolished the neighbourhood. The residents rebuilt their houses brick by brick, just to see them demolished again in 2012, and then once more in December 2022, with hundreds of families becoming homeless overnight each time. It was due to mere luck that Nadiya’s house was left standing this time around, and there is no way of knowing when the bulldozers will come back. While these demolition drives are not a unique feature of Modi’s government, they have intensified under his rule and are usually conducted in poor and/or Muslim neighbourhoods, often following rallies of the Hindu far right. They are indeed common enough to have earned themselves the nickname ‘bulldozer politics’.

 

People in the ruins of their homes in South Delhi, 2012.  Source: Author

Born into an impoverished family with 6 children, Nadiya has worked herself through government schools and universities to complete an MA in Hindi, has learned sewing, parlouring and other marketable skills in free courses along the way, and has amassed years of work experience as a teacher in underpaid NGO jobs. Now, having to look after her own son, she tutors children at her home, often teaching 30 pupils at once in a room that can’t be larger than 10 square metres. Working 8 hours a day, 6 days a week, she earns a few thousand rupees per month which she combines with the 12,000 rupees (roughly 130 Euros) her husband makes.

“Where would I go?” Nadiya asks when Mahi brings up the bulldozers again. “I can’t afford to move anywhere else. Plus, I grew up here, my whole family lives here, my son’s school is in walking distance. Tell me, where else should I go?”

Hindu nationalist ideology, or Hindutva, is built on Brahminism and propagates a type of Hinduism that is not representative of the incredibly diverse belief system practiced by Hindus across the Indian subcontinent. The BJP wants people to forget that Hinduism was never a unified religion but rather a collection of beliefs, rituals, and practices, the most unifying characteristic of which was for a long time that they neither fell under Buddhism, Islam, Jainism, Christianity nor any of the many other religions practiced in the region.

Hindutva followers stand against this diversity. They antagonise lower castes, tribes, Christians, the broader political Left, disapprove of sexual self-determination and women’s freedom, but most important of all, they hate Muslims. In the eyes of Hindutva supporters, Muslims should accept their place as second-class citizens, or, as a popular slang says, go to Pakistan.

The skyline with mosques and temples in the south of Delhi. Source: Author

Attending an urban upper-middle class wedding, it is almost possible to forget all these politics. The discussions centre on who is wearing what, how the bride and groom are looking, and what desserts are being served. Then an older man starts a conversation with me, a wealthy upper caste Hindu with an impressive moustache that seems to grow longer the more the talk drags on. When I mention that I come from Germany, he enthusiastically starts telling me about a box of knives he got as a gift from a German friend a few years ago. “They’re so sharp,” he says in Hindi, chuckling, “they don’t just cut vegetables – they could even cut a katua.”

Later, I learn that katua is a derogatory slang for Muslim men who have been circumcised. I also learn that the older man alone bought 1000 orange flags to decorate his exclusively upper caste Hindu colony for the Ram Mandir inauguration.

Among the 2019/20 protesters against the Islamophobic Citizenship Amendment Act, a law which would see fast-track citizenship granted to applicants from all major religions except for Islam, and which could contribute to stripping Muslims of their citizenship, there was a white student with a sign that read “I’m from Germany, your grandchildren will be very pissed at you.”

I think about it often these days. So many things I see in India are achingly familiar from what I studied at school, and sometimes I want to scream out of sheer frustration at how glaringly obvious it is that history is repeating itself.

I think of Berlin’s streets clad in swastika flags; of people boycotting Jewish shops the same way some Indians I know are now boycotting Muslim street vendors or maids; of laws banning kosher food or halal meat, restricting inter-religious marriage; of the prosecution of journalists, the imprisonment of political dissidents, the limitless surveillance of all citizens to make sure nobody will be able to escape; of the government forging and forcing a national uniformity on a territory that for the longest time was not one nation but the collection of various kingdoms in geographical proximity; of paramilitary ground forces like the SS marching in the street. Much like in Germany, the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS), the Hindu nationalists’ volunteer paramilitary organisation with more than 5 million members, has been practicing for indoctrination and pogroms. The RSS has dedicated branches for women and children and runs India’s largest school network. The second chief of the 100-year old organisation openly admired Hitler and asserted that India should treat her minorities the same way the Nazis treated the Jews. Looking at the country now, it seems there isn’t a long way left to go for his wish to finally come true.

I think of the government renaming Muslim cities, tearing down Muslim architecture, erasing Muslim contributions to history; of themrewriting the country’s history. I think of the fake news filling newspapers, TV channels, schoolbooks, WhatsApp chats. The lies, the endless lies. ‘We do this for the country. For the greater good. We do this for you’.

An Indian children’s book, published in 2016, that names Hitler as a great Leader among Barack Obama, Mahatma Gandhi, Nelson Mandela, Narendra Modi and Aung San Suu Kyi. Source: Author

Is nobody else noticing? Does nobody else care? Nobody who matters, it seems, as countries and multinational companies keep doing business with India as if nothing is happening, exploiting its cheap wages, flexible environmental standards, and its government’s high demand for shiny new arms. It seems that nobody ever learns from history. (The Germans didn’t, for sure, or they wouldn’t be supporting Israel’s ongoing genocide in Palestine.)

Gaza has 2 million people, India maybe 200 million Muslims. Imagine: 100 times more spyware and arms to sell to a government that wants to get rid of them one way or another. In 2022 the Early Warning Project ranked India as the eighth most likely county in the world to see genocide. A recent poll found that almost half of all Indians said they were very much satisfied with Modi’s work. Sometimes I have nightmares of what they may do to Nadiya if they get the chance.

I don’t want to remember Delhi like that, draped in ugly neon orange, but the colour leaves an ugly aftertaste that doesn’t dissipate. Flying up and away through the layers of smog, I think of when I will return, and there is both yearning and fear in my heart.[/vc_column_text][vc_separator css=”.vc_custom_1713852542354{margin-top: -15px !important;margin-bottom: 10px !important;}”][vc_column_text]This article by Sophia Miller was originally published on http://www.tni.org under a Creative Commons Licence https://www.tni.org/en/article/delhi-diaries

A pseudonym was used in this article; the author’s identity is protected at her request due to the sensitive nature of the article.

Opinions expressed in Bliss posts reflect solely the views of the author of the post in question.

About the author:

Sophia Miller a project officer with The Transnational Institute’s War and Pacification programme.

 

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Disasters as ‘tipping points’? How the deadly Bhola Cyclone influenced East Pakistan’s 1970 electoral outcomes and what this means for disaster politics

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The Bhola cyclone swept through the Bengal region in November 1970, displacing millions of people and leaving more than 300,000 dead. While such natural disasters cause widespread destruction that are felt for many years afterward, they can also be seen an opportunity for political change, writes Muhammad Basar, who contends that the cyclone influenced the 1970 election that ultimately led to the separation of united Pakistan. But although such calamities can act as catalysts for political restructuring, it is important not to become complacent in managing disaster risks, he writes.

 

The emergence of Bangladesh as an independent nation in 1971 is a significant event in modern history: its birth is not only the result of a prolonged struggle for freedom but also the consequence of an unexpected natural hazard leading to a man-made disaster that contributed to the rise of Bengali nationalism and their secession from Pakistan.

In November 1970, a severe cyclone made landfall on the East Pakistan coast, resulting in the tragic loss of nearly 300,000 lives in a single night of devastation. According to the Economic Times , the cyclone is ranked the fourth most devastating hazard in the past century. But what made the cyclone so destructive was not the force of nature but the force of circumstances: the Bhola cyclone struck at the worst possible place at the worst possible time.

The cyclone is particularly significant in the field of disaster studies not only due to its immense destructive impact but also because of the detrimental policies pursued by West Pakistan in its aftermath. This we explored in detail in our recent scholarly article titled ‘The final straw: Bhola cyclone, 1970 election, disaster politics, and the making of Bangladesh’. Our article offers valuable information for researchers and practitioners in the fields of disaster management and humanitarian assistance, shedding light on how ineffective disaster governance policies can contribute to political division in the wake of a disaster.

We refer to this event as a “critical juncture“, as it was one of the first instances of a compound disaster where a natural event contributed to the start of a civil war, an external military intervention, and, ultimately, the dissolution of a nation-state.We studied this phenomenon using qualitative research methods, which included six months of archival research, the analysis of media contents, and interviews with aid activists, political leaders, and survivors of the cyclone.

The pre-cyclone political configuration

The Bengalis, comprising 54% of Pakistan’s population, had limited influence over the economic and political affairs of the country. As a result, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the President of the Awami League (AL), a regional political party of East Pakistan, advocated for provincial autonomy and democracy through the famous ‘Six-Point Plan’ in the late 1960s. In response to increasing demands for democracy and equality, the Pakistani military government set a date for the nation’s first national election. The election was planned for December 7, 1970 and would take place simultaneously across all provinces.

However, on November 12 — just three weeks before the election — a powerful cyclone with winds reaching up to 200 km/h accompanied by 30-foot tidal waves hit the East Pakistan coast at midnight. The cyclone caused widespread destruction, resulting in a significant loss of life and displacing millions of individuals. Regrettably, the people of East Pakistan were not adequately warned about the cyclone, as the warning system failed to operate promptly.

The cyclone’s impact on East Pakistan’s political dynamics

The fallout of responses to the cyclone was found to be more severe than the cyclone itself. It took almost ten days for the government to officially announce a state of emergency and mobilize the military to aid in relief and recovery operations.President Yahya Khan received substantial criticism for his mismanagement of the crisis, with many viewing his lack of concern as a form of criminal neglect. This delayed reaction significantly influenced the attitudes of the Bengali population and fueled their desire to break away from the rest of Pakistan. Moreover, the cyclone had struck the poorest area of East Pakistan, where infrastructure, livelihoods, and economic prospects were severely lacking. And this disaster served as a wake-up call, revealing the critical importance of economic equality and political freedom for the survival of the Bengalis.

The leadership emphasized this point strongly. Maulana Abdul Hamid Bhashani, at the time a prominent figure within the National Awami Party in East Pakistan, voiced strong disapproval of how the government handled the cyclone’s aftermath. He criticized the Pakistani government for its perceived lack of empathy towards the affected individuals. On November 23, 1970, he made the significant declaration of East Pakistan’s independence and advocated for a boycott of the impending election. In response to his stance, two additional leftist parties also opted to abstain from participating in the election.

AL leader Sheikh Mujibur Rahman (popularly known as Mujib in both Pakistan and Bangladesh) conversely took advantage of the situation to unite the Bengali population against the ruling authorities of West Pakistan. Rahman highlighted the inadequate response of the central government to the crisis and stressed the need for increased autonomy to better protect the people of East Pakistan from future natural disasters. Through public gatherings, marches, and promotional materials, Rahman drew attention to the grievances of the East Pakistanis and emphasized the disparities between the two regions. A notable poster with the slogan “Why is Golden Bengal a Crematorium?” became a significant symbol of the AL’s electoral campaign.

A ‘Tipping Point’?

Political analysts had anticipated that the AL would emerge as the dominant political force in East Pakistan, but few had foreseen its landslide victory; it secured 160 out of 162 seats for East Pakistan in the election. The electoral outcome was surprising not only to political factions but also to the Pakistani military, which had underestimated the growing influence of Mujib’s AL in East Pakistan. Yahya and his administration were confident that no political party would be able to attain the critical threshold of 151 seats, resulting in a hung parliament that would be more susceptible to their manipulation in the future. Yet this is exactly what transpired.

This overwhelming victory provided Mujib with the authority to independently establish the government at the national level without requiring support from any other political party. He declared that his future government would draw up a new constitution for Pakistan based on the demands of his Six-Point Plan, which would give East Pakistan greater provincial autonomy and weaken the ties between the center and the provinces.

Despite the victory, a transfer of power did not occur. In an attempt to engage in dialogue, the central authority sought to persuade Mujib to abandon his plan and adhere to the principle of greater unity for Pakistan. However, Mujib and the Bengali nationalists saw no reason to deviate from their demands, as they had already received a mandate from the Bengali voters. Failing to resolve the issue with Mujib, the military instead of relinquishing power initiated a brutal military operation, known as Operation Searchlight, on March 25, 1971. This event sparked a civil war in East Pakistan, ultimately leading to the successful establishment of independent Bangladesh.

The complex interplay between natural disasters and politics

Our research suggests that the Bhola Cyclone of 1970 not only caused immense devastation but also had far-reaching political consequences in South Asian history. The post-disaster politics shaped the electoral landscape in East Pakistan, leading to a call for an election boycott and ultimately resulting in the AL gaining a significant majority. However, the military’s refusal to transfer power to Sheikh Mujibur Rahman sparked a civil war that lasted for nine months, leading to India’s intervention and the eventual emergence of Bangladesh as an independent country.

The aftermath of a cyclone created a distinctive situation in disaster politics, as it sparked a nationalist movement that ultimately resulted in the country’s fragmentation. This highlights the importance of effectively managing disaster crises during times of political instability to prevent further harm to a divided nation. The events following the Bhola Cyclone underscore the intricate relationship between natural disasters, politics, and the lasting impact of such occurrences. Despite the historical importance of these outcomes, they have been largely neglected in global historical narratives.

How can we further reduce the risk of disasters?

Disaster risk reduction in a situation where a state is politically, culturally, and economically divided and on the brink of fragmentation is one of the most challenging tasks in disaster governance. The Bhola Cyclone highlighted several key weaknesses in the disaster governance system.These included a deficient warning system, inadequate infrastructure and logistical support, reliance on foreign aid for recovery efforts, and a lack of political trust due to the presence of a non-democratic regime, leading to widespread public anger and political unrest.

This event demonstrated that a disaster can raise questions about legitimacy and underscore the importance of democratic freedoms and equal opportunities for all. Additionally, it revealed the significant impact of non-state actors, such as the media, civil society, political parties, and foreign donor agencies, in influencing government opposition.


To learn more about the cyclone and its relation to the independence of Bangladesh, our recent article published in the Contemporary South Asia can be consulted. The article is the outcome of our joint research funded by North South University, Bangladesh (CTRG-20-SHSS-05; NSU IRB/ERC: 2020/OR-NSU/IRB/1121).


About the author:

 

 

Muhammad Asiful Basar is a PhD candidate at the University of Antwerp, Belgium and Senior Lecturer at North South University, Bangladesh.