A Revolution in Bangladesh That Debunked Orientalist Clichés

16:405/08/2025, Salı
U: 5/08/2025, Salı
Yasin Aktay

From an orientalist lens, Bangladesh would seem like the farthest and quietest corner of the East—stoic, submissive, burdened by hardship, defined by sweat and toil, and cloaked in mystery. The land of rickshaws and resilience. Hardly the kind of place one expects a revolution. After all, aren't revolutions the domain of the West? In the East, power supposedly shifts only through palace intrigues and the machinations of despots or monarchs. But Bangladesh has defied that script—with intelligence,

From an orientalist lens, Bangladesh would seem like the farthest and quietest corner of the East—stoic, submissive, burdened by hardship, defined by sweat and toil, and cloaked in mystery. The land of rickshaws and resilience. Hardly the kind of place one expects a revolution. After all, aren't revolutions the domain of the West? In the East, power supposedly shifts only through palace intrigues and the machinations of despots or monarchs. But Bangladesh has defied that script—with intelligence, conviction, and style. What’s taken place here is nothing short of a genuine revolution, driven by a philosophy of freedom, dignity, and prosperity. And those who led it had much more to lose than just chains.

The people of Bangladesh showed that their decades of endurance in the face of humiliation, forced identities, revisionist histories, and hollow savior myths was not consent—it was patience. That patience has run out. The tired narratives—ones even children would laugh at—have finally been met with the only appropriate response: revolt. And this revolution, as its people insist time and again, wasn’t simply about replacing one dictator or myth with another—it was about demanding governance that treats them like human beings.


On July 27, we attended an international conference at Dhaka University titled “The Legacy of the July 2024 Revolution: Rebuilding Bangladesh,” hosted by the Institute for International Law and Justice.


A Revolution That Shattered Myths of Salvation and Saviors

From the earliest days of the uprising, the revolution has targeted the myth that Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, the father of the current authoritarian ruler Sheikh Hasina, was a national savior. What kind of salvation was it to break free from Pakistan, only to become a satellite of India? What did it mean to gain independence only to then abandon faith, embrace aggressive secularism, and rush to adopt the very values of their former colonizers?


The people made their feelings clear. They attacked the statues of Mujibur Rahman, his likenesses, even his once-iconic lakefront residence in the heart of Dhaka. The building was burned to the ground. Today, it stands in ruins—visited not as a site of memory, but as a cautionary tale. Young people take photos among the rubble. It’s the same end that awaits all Pharaohs, eventually.


Across the country, civil society groups and youth movements are holding brainstorming sessions about how to rebuild their country’s future. We were invited to several of these meetings and youth forums. The Institute that organized the Dhaka University conference was officially formed after the revolution by a group of bright, young postgraduates—but had existed informally before that, when organizing anything of the sort was simply not allowed. Already, it has produced serious work, including a massive, multi-volume documentation of human rights violations under the Hasina regime.


The July 27 conference brought together many such organizations. It was a gathering infused with hope, calling for the revolution to remain a living force that inspires continued commitment to democracy, justice, and freedom.


Guarding the Revolution

One of the most compelling speakers at the event was Nurul Izzah Anwar, daughter of Malaysian Prime Minister Anwar Ibrahim and vice-president of his party. Her reflections on the risks facing young democracies, drawn from Malaysia’s own struggles, were sharp and sobering.


Everywhere we went, people quickly gathered to hear “a guest from Türkiye” speak. These weren’t just friendly receptions. Each event was professionally organized, well-attended, and infused with a deep intellectual engagement. There’s immense admiration for Türkiye here—not a naive or distant admiration, but one grounded in real interest in Türkiye’s geopolitical trajectory. The conversations were stimulating, informed, and self-aware. Frankly, I enjoyed listening more than speaking.


Young people kept emphasizing their role in the revolution. Some even pointed to the very rooms we were sitting in as the places where key strategies were drawn up. Whether that’s true or not is beside the point—their real concern is that the revolution might be stolen from them. They’ve studied the Arab Spring. They know revolutions can be hijacked. Their questions weren’t about triumph—they were about survival. How can Bangladesh protect this fragile democracy it has only just discovered? They had their own answers, too.


Outside the homes of former leaders, you’ll now see graffiti scrawled on the walls: “Respect the revolution. Don’t lose hope.”


How Turkish Dramas Inspired a Generation

One young speaker said something that stayed with me: that Turkish historical dramas played a critical role in helping Bangladeshi youth resist the ideological stranglehold of the Hasina regime. That ideological apparatus had long crushed national self-confidence and reduced the population to passive followers of a pro-India agenda.


But these shows—Diriliş: Ertuğrul, Kuruluş Osman, Selçuklu—told a different story. They reminded viewers that Muslims once shaped history, and could do so again. The youth found in them a psychological anchor, a renewed sense of agency.


These weren’t state-broadcast productions. They spread via YouTube, consumed by millions. Ironically, Hasina’s government tried to counter the trend by airing Magnificent Century on state TV, hoping to paint a decadent picture of Ottoman rule. But it backfired. Instead, it fed into a renewed fascination with Ottoman grandeur and Islamic political memory. Even this twist says something profound.


Türkiye Isn’t Just a Distant Inspiration—It’s a Brother Nation

Of course, Türkiye’s appeal here goes beyond its pop culture. It’s about history and shared struggle. Bangladeshis still remember their forebears who supported the Turkish War of Independence with money and volunteers. They recall it as part of the Khilafat Movement—a sacrifice they never forgot.


Today, they see Türkiye not just as an inspiration but as a partner. “Whatever happens in Türkiye affects us directly,” they told me again and again. They call on Turkish businesspeople to invest, on institutions to open branches—as they would call on a brother.

#bangladesh
#turkiye
#july 2024 revolution